State Part II

You know that feeling when you are about to knock on someone's door and you don't know quite how you are going to apologize, or when you you approach a microphone before a large crowd and can feel their ears magnetically connected to your mouth, or when you sit down to watch a movie about which you've heard nothing but the best reviews?

Some people call it anticipation.

That day I called it hunger.

We toed the lines as Spartans that had been eating up the competition all season, and today we were especially hungry for victory, for fulfillment of all the pressures our reputation placed on us, for a win to match the Gazette's front page pre-race story about our ever-more threatening team. And like it had countless times for the past three months, the gun went off and we burst out of our tiny box, nudging elbows with each other and the villians around us, struggling to claim a spot of grass where no one else was already stepping.

"Don't start out too fast, Kris." I echoed my father's words in my mind, remembering the primary downfall of so many runners. "Remember to be GREAT. Don't start out too fast, and focus on the task at hand. This is your race."

It was obvious before we reached the first turn 100 yards from the start line that many of the girls in the pack did not have a wise dad like me to remind them to control their hungry appetites and harness the anticipation for the 3 miles past the first .2. Aubrey was out of sight. I thought I could see her blue Brooks flats scampering around the lead pack to take the first place position, but I may have been confusing them with Lynnea's. I knew Lynnea could maintain that pace. Aubrey usually did, but I was nervous for her. She usually stuck around in 4th or 5th before taking the lead in the last mile.

It was a regular pre-heated oven, top-floor apartment and dusty Sahara desert on that course. Almost like a golf course turned dirt with its weaving turns visible to anyone standing anywhere along the 5k stretch. Nothing like beautiful Arapahoe where we won our first invitational earlier that season or rolling Air Academy where we conquered the hills for another first place. One path, one line of girls, and only one team would position all seven of their runners to score the lowest points.

I lunged down a small hill where a the Sjoerdsma boys were cheering like crazy on the side, waving their already gangling arms and almost sucking everyone nearby into their wide open mouths. It was weird how I didn't even hear the sounds they were making because I was so focused.

I passed a girl on a flat stretch along a dry riverbank. One spot down, I thought to myself. The usual gaps between girls I passed and the next fastest contender were gone becuase everyone here had earned their spot-it was one fast girl after another.

Amidst all my constant stream of the GREAT acronym and sweaty sentiments over my last 5k as a high school athlete, I lost sight for a moment. I still looked at the dry reeds lined up along the path and the pattering heels of the girl in front of me, but I could not see; my entire being focused for one moment on the sharp pounding of my feet on the trail. I could hear every stride, and each step spoke for miles of running, months of training, countless races developing a competitive fire.

First 5k, varsity gained. Left, right. Team contention, no progression. Left, right. Summer grouping, new recruiting. Left, right. Coach Schwartz gone, Coach Creech come. Left, right. Regional champs, State chance. Left, right. Left, right.

That moment I realized it didn't matter that I ran two minutes slower than our 3rd runner and 3 minutes slower than our 1st. The 15 girls I had let pass me through the season were behind me now and I was that much closer to Leah. This was State. This was the meet I thought of since I discovered what it meant to be part of a team and run for myself at the same time and I suddenly understood that doing that latter would bring success in the former. My sight returned, renewed and refocused.

Another girl down. My watch read 13:30 at mile 2.

"Please bless the Spartans right now." I shot the prayer up in my head, wondering how Aubrey and Lynnea were faring at the front. Then I looked up from the path, saw the swinging ponytails lined up like horses caravanning on the trail in front of me and licked my lips.

"Let's go, Kris. I'm hungry."