The remainder of the day is spent laying low, watching some TV and gorging myself with subway for each meal (the meatbol is good but will later come back to haunt me). We head out to the track about 2 hrs before our first event. I'm pretty nervous for the DMR – as some notable runners of Daniel Lincoln, Allistar Craig, Said Ahmed, etc are going to be running against me. Not a pleasant thought really. These guys are really fast. I wish I was that fast ha. Anyways we warm-up for the event lacking a Hendry due to problems with a guidance councilor who pretty much screwed him over and for the matter our DMR team as its pretty evident after today's run we probably would have provisionaled had we had him. On the line Jeff Fisher our 800 guy had to move up to take Hendry's spot – he tries his best to hang on with the leaders and does a pretty good job until the bear, strike that, a pack of bears jumps on his back at 600 meters in. He's quoted as saying he's nevere been so happy to hand off a baton in his life as he splits a 3:08 for 1200. As the baton is snatched away Austin Benton our very fast and very unorthodox sprinter with a very light complexion (he's white) goes to work trying to make up some of the gap. Despite not running inabout 2 weeks due to some foot problems he manages an impressive 47 through 400 meters. Up next Jamsion Carter who alos missed the previous track season due to some serious foot problems splits a 1:52 800 meter to slightly make up some of the gap. I get the baton and my adrenalin kicks in hard. The two teams in front of us Arkansas "B" and Abeline Christian are a good 7 seconds ahead of us. I don't want to lose any more ground and just keep my eyes fixed on them as I begin to run. I don't hear or pay attention to any of the splits as the race goes on – I just have my eyes set on the two teams who began to creep slowly back to me. At about 400 meters to go, I take off because I am pretty close and immediately catch them. Unfortunately in my head I'm satisfied at this point to be ahead of the Ark "B" and allow the Abiline Kenyan to just cruise away. I take it in and split a 4:06 low. Upon crossing the finish I can't stop sneezing or coughing as indoor track seriously get to me. I feel really sick from a combo of the cold, the poor ventilation of an indoor track, and just when I don't think things can get worse I am reintroduced to my lunch. It's too bad I enjoyed that lunch and I feel saddened to let it go.
The ride home from the meet we are entertained by Dr. Marvo the preacher (Marvin Stevenson) as he brings out the jams on the bus driver's microphone. It's pretty hilarious and I along with others can't help but laugh despite feeling like I swallowed a hive of bees. At the hotel we eat dinner and I get some decongestion medicine and go to bed pretty early – hoping to feel better in the morning.
The following morning we wake up to do our shakeout run and its below freezing with a very strong headwind. I feel like a sailboat with my windbreaker on. The wind does with me as it pleases, slaps me around a good deal, before allowing me to return hoem for drills, stretching etc. Breakfast on some cereal as I definitely don't want anything heavy again. Wait, sit, sleep, until it's time to go back to the meet.
The final race: After a very eventful and cold warm-up, Nick Accardo and I wait around in the "waiting around for heats to be called" room. The meet is a little behind so we get to feel our nerves for an extra prolonged time. Nick's pretty nervous, as am I. He questions what he will do in the race. I tell him to listen to his heart, that's what I always do (in reference to the greatest movie ever – Napoleon Dynamite). I'm called into the waiting area for the fast heat race ready. In the little waiting area when we are about to be brought onto the track, I can't help but to look around at my competitors. I feel fat. Can't say ive ever felt this way – but everyone around me is either an Arkansas All American ive read about or a very thin and very dark Kenyan. I'm pretty intimidated and negative thoughts run through my head that maybe I don't belong here. These thoughts carry out into the beginning of the race. As I sit in last place through a already very slow paced mile. I'm not going to lie I've never in my life been in a field like this one, everyone has run faster (a lot faster than me). As the race progresses I hear my Coach yelling t me to move up (he had originally wanted me to sit in third and to be in the race when the race began). Unfortunately the race begins by Hatch and the rabbit breaking off from the rest of us ad myself just sitting at the back of the pack of a slow mile. With about 500 to go I go. I pass everyone in the race giving Sandfort a little shove as he tries to jut out into the lane im passing in. I get up to third and stay there just pretty comfortably cruising in to run a 4:09. I'm not going to lie it's a pr, but I'm very disappointed in myself. I'm a lot faster than this right now – and I have a lot left. I didn't leave it all out on the trak today and that's a pretty crappy feeling when people beat you and you know you had more. I guess I have some hidden cards in me. People won't see me coming now. The mere 409 miler signing off.
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