Stories from your childhood Cross-Country or Track Days (Read 654 times)

He runs in his slippers and pajama pants and drinks beer as a recovery drink

this is how I imagine gallowalking, especially the beer part

I have some fond memories of high school track/cross-country. I was one of the 'nerds' (I actually had - and could use, to some extent, a slide-rule), but this was one place where I could be part of the 'jocks'. Of course I wasn't mainstream. I have never, for example, finished better than third in a race - and we had to sweep the event a couple of times for even that to happen. Some random memories: My best run ever, I'm convinced, was left out on the practice field. I was normally 7th man on the cross country team, but this day I was keeping up effortlessly with our #3. About a half mile from the end of the run he 'brushed me off' against a tree, and I lost contact. To this day I believe I could have kept up with him - for once - if he hadn't broken my stride. Training races against a nearby smaller school (different class/league, but they had a hilly course so that's one of the places we got our hill work in). Their xc course started on the side of hill in a little clearing, went down hill, around the baseball field at field lever, back the other way outside the field (on top of the hill the field was dug into), up an old logging road, back downhill through a grove of trees - with a 90 degree turn enforced by a 10 inch fir tree right in front you, past a graveyard - always a pleasant sight late in the race, and down to the track. Our track was triangular - it surrounded the baseball field, whose outfield formed the football field. I grew up thinking this was the normal shape. Of course, one of the other schools in our league had a track that was literally 'D' shaped. They ran the 100 high hurdles because they didn't have a long-enough straight-away for the full 110 - and if you didn't stop quickly enough you sailed out off a cliff over a bunch of blackberry brambles. Oh, and one of the highlights - the winter training "sheep bowl" flash football training sessions. The FFA kept a flock of sheep in our athletic complex early one winter, and after they took them out we did some of our late winter training out on the football field. We played flash football (anyone can pass at any time to anyone else, and you can pass as often as you like on each play) - with one eye on the ball and one on the evidence the sheep left behind. We'd often let the runner gain an extra yard just so we didn't tackle them "in the wrong spot" - but we still had plenty of reasons to appreciate the showers those days.

I mainly ran cross country during my high school days in England. Not because I was any good but I had the perseverance to gut it out and usually counted for the team. Because I 'ran' the assumption was that I would run track too. I can remember hating this because I never had any speed - the longest event was the 1500m and I would run the 800m and 1500m - the 'long distance' events !!! My fondest memories are filling in for other events when they needed someone, anyone, to pitch in for the team. I specifically remember doing the shot put once and actually got rather fond of the discus since there's a bit of a knack to that one. Even today, at the beach, I will still wind up and toss the odd discus sized rock for the fun of it. My only amusing story relates to some low key meet with maybe a couple of other local high schools taking part on some shabby grass track. I'm guessing I was somewhere between 12 and 14 and races were commonly under 14, under 16 etc. No bleachers and no spectators. I think it was the 1500m and there were probably about 6 or 8 boys in the race. We had just passed the bell and entered the penultimate curve. The two leaders were long gone, heck they were probably heading down the home stretch at this point. There were two groups of 2 or 3 boys ahead of me on the curve and as usual I was bringing up the rear. Then, and very suddenly, a dog, trailing a lead, darted across the grass track, taking out the first little group on the curve ahead of me. This would have been mildly amusing but the dog, probably a little freaked by the chaos he had created, then doubled back, just in time to take out the second small group in front of me. I don't really remember what actually happened after this. I know I finished without dog induced injury. I can't remember if I got to finish in the top 3, which would have been a rarity. I suspect the truth is that I was the only person who could be bothered actually finishing after the dog debacle.

I have been curious about what my old HS XC times were like ... so this forced me to dig up really old press clippings etc. I found a program from our XC awards dinner [Nov. 1986] and the coach wrote this: "The TIME, good or bad, of every individual in this book shows the best that the person could give on that day. Together they make a season which many would do well to emulate. Not because of the honors won, but because of the collective effort, respect and love they represent." [Coach Stevenson.] I was a middle packer on my best day. [Someplace between 4th and 6th for the team.] I did, however, achieve a "team runner of the week" for my PR of 17:57 and team 3rd finish on 10/11/86 at a dual meet that we won. [I don't even remember it.] I only started running XC to get in shape for basketball. I felt like I needed to be in better shape than anyone else to secure a starting spot [and I was in better shape and did get a starting spot.] I was always on the fence about running and several times wanted to quit. What's interesting though is this ... I don't play basketball any longer ... but here I am running. [And in HS I hated it, but today i ran in the rain.] My Dad never came to an XC meet but he never missed a basketball game. When I was closing up the awards dinner program there was a hand-written note on the cover from my DAD that says "11/18/86 -- Tim - Congratulations -- you worked your butt off. When the going gets rough in life, remember how you stuck with x-country. Love - DAD. [You will be 18 tommorrow -- WOW!]" Pretty great huh? What's really funny is that my birthday isn't the next day ... he didn't know my birthday then and still doesn't. The beauty is that birthday's are the little things -- a note like that from your Dad read 20 years later -- that's the big things.

Great story Slimbo.