Introduction

I'm not going to lie to you. I like to run. Running, as in like physical activity. I've been a staple member of my school's cross country team since the seventh grade, and this year has been my second on the varsity team. It takes guts to do this sport. We get about 800% less recognition than the football team, and people either stare blankly or laugh when it's our "spirit day." I would like to say that we get all the girls, or benefits, or something, but the sad truth is that those who sign up for this sport are only hoping to die somewhere along the way.

If you somehow believed that I would develop a starcraft report from that intro, kill yourself. I asked on Warsmith if anyone wanted to read a report of one of my meets, and the response was anything but sensical. Taking that as a go ahead, I got to work.

How it all started...

"Get up."

I open an eye, fade back to sleep.

"Get up man, you're running late."

My dad rolls me out of bed, and politely removes me from my warm room as I glance back at my welcoming blankets. The time is 7:03 am. I finish up in the bathroom and stumble down my steps to plop in front of a bowl of Cheerios, already soggy from waiting for me for so long. What can you do. I eat the cereal then get upstairs to get dressed, uniform on first, followed by my "sweats", then my dad and I head out in the car. Our town hasn't really woken up yet, besides the occassional dog walking stay-at-home-mother who seems so insignificant on the side of the road. Five minutes later we arrive at my high school, and I see only a few other members of my team waiting there. My dad and I sit quietly in our warm car, listening to Led Zeppelin's Rock and Roll on the radio. Finally my coach, Mrs. Powers, pulls up in her tiny clown car and I jump out to go meet her. We talk for a few minutes about how many kids would be there (4,600), when my race was (9:27 am), and how much sleep I got (not nearly enough). The bus that would take us to the meet chose to pull up around this time, and myself and the rest of the team got on. Where are the seniors at? Oh, SAT day? Alright. We pulled away, and I whipped out my handy digital camera, ready to capture the rest of the events as they unfolded.

About ten minutes later we arrived at Van Cortlandt Park, roughly twenty minutes out of Manhattan.

Van Cortlandt Park

Van Cortlandt is a truly... odd place. It's a gigantic field of dirt and scrubby grass, with two paths leading towards the rolling hills behind it where people run. I call it odd because despite its somewhat ratty condition, Van Cortlandt is one of the most popular running destinations in the world. Why? No one really knows for certain, but the common consensus is because of its close proximity to New York City and its straightforward course. Every year the Van Cortlandt Invitational is held for high school runners, and teams head out from as far as California, Oregon, Quebec, Michigan, Florida, you name it; simply for a 2.5 mile course in the Bronx. Sounds crazy, but the top finishers at this race are considered the best, and are invited to further elite competitions. Think of it as an audition for the runners who will be competing in the rest of the year's events. This would be my second time attending the Invitational, and last year there were nearly 10,000 people in attendance. This year the number jumped up to just over 13,000.

Despite the park's size, it's understandably difficult to accomodate such a vast crowd, so every year "Runner Village" springs up. Think of Olympic Village, but instead of apartments the kids stay in team tents that spring up everywhere. Runner Village is essentially a free standing city. At any time during the day there are nearly three hundred New York City cops giving directions and generally maintaining the peace. It has about two hundred porta-potty units stationed diligently around the field, just hungry for your waste. It has its own electricity; I'd say roughly 95% of coaches bring generators to inflate and warm their tents, and then just leave them running to make noise. They open up a tractor trailer and usually stage a show, because the first race starts at 9:15 am and the last ends at about 8:00 pm. Vendors are everywhere. For that one day, Van Cortlandt Park is a swarm of activity.

Getting warmed up with Josh

When our bus pulled up to the park we all hopped off and attempted to find a dry place to set up base camp. A shady spot under a nearby tree looked decent enough and we unfurled the tarp we had brought with us. After setting things up I ran across the street with a friend to get some batteries at the store, and when we got back my friend Josh was ready to start warming up. The two of us would be running the second race of the day at 9:27 am, and we had about an hour's time to prepare, yet he still wanted to get up and get the blood moving. Knowing the course wouldn't be a problem, since we had both run here at least ten times over the years, but we wanted to see some of the teams before we started. And thus, I present to you the course.

I don't want to spend too much time desribing the course; chances are you can get through the rest without having any background knowledge of it. However, if you are interested this is an excellent link that goes through the entire course picture by picture. I won't be referring to them during my narration but you'll have a better understanding when I talk about the bridge, the steep uphill and downhill, the fenced area, etc. I'd advise checking it out just for the coolness factor.

It's time

Josh and I got back from warming up about ten minutes before our race was set to start. Getting back to the tarp, I picked up my number and pinned it on with four pins, as losing it would mean I wouldn't be running =]. We jogged lightly towards the porta-pottys, where I was unfortunate enough to open the door on some poor kid who forgot to turn the vacancy latch. A quick sorry followed, and I jumped into another before the kid came out. Five minutes later Josh and I were at the starting line, and you can see my apparent enthusiasm.

Every kid on the line was getting in some last minute stretches, with many teams screaming their names and striding off the line to get some air in their lungs. Josh and I exchanged some words of encouragement when the official raised the gun, and gave us the instructions for what would follow. One call of "on your mark," one of "set," then "bang!" Everyone knew what the hell was going to happen, but procedure is procedure. I looked to my right and left and saw just an endless line of kids in both directions; there had to be at least two hundred running with me! Since I had no chance of doing as well as Josh in the race I let him have more room than me on the starting line, and at the sound of the gun the stampede began.

Run run run. Josh and I (along with everyone else) knew that getting off the line quick in order to get in good position was essential, so we sprinted for our lives to avoid being swallowed by the mob of kids closing in around us. About fifteen seconds after the start Josh made a tight sprint to pass a huge kid in front of us, and I let him go, not wanting to tire out too early in the race. I lost sight of Josh a few seconds later when a huge stick of a kid ran in front of me, only to get tripped up by his teammate. He fell about as hard as you can, yet he was up immediately keeping pace with the rest of us. I guess if you're flying in all the way from California you're expected to run a damn good race.

More people passed me as we crossed the endless string of baseball fields that leads to the entrance of the woods. Again, this was alright. I knew the hills before us would tire them out, and I would much rather pass them in the end of the race than in the beginning. Josh was out of sight already when we hit the tree barrier.

Mrs. Powers says the main thing to watch out for at VCP is to have enough energy once you hit the woods. While sprinting in the start is necessary, being able to pass people on the uphills is just as important, and that's what I excel at. The opening trail goes down like warm cider and I manage to pass at least ten people who've already tired themselves out after less than the first mile. Make a left, hill. Another left, followed by a right. Inclines abound. The huge hill protecting the bridge is the sign that the ground is about to flatten out, and I charge it with everything I've got, managing to pass at least another four kids who thought running together in a line would stop those behind them. They're nothing.

I get on the bridge, and now I'm really feeling good. Breathing is alright, and my legs feel fine. What's more, a group of kids in front me from Rye (town next to mine) were slowing down, and I put on some more speed to pass them before the bridge's sharp turn brought us to another gigantic hill.

Ok, I'll admit it, this hill was tough. I manage to reach the summit without slowing, but my thighs are really starting to feel heavy. A leafy branch that got pushed forward by the guy in front of me snaps back now and catches me right in the face, and I use my shoulder to wipe off any crap while two huge guys who were keeping to my blind spot charge past me. The first downhill of the race greets me, and I again sprint down it, stretching my legs as far as they'll go to catch up to the three runners ahead of me. It works. I fly by the first two, almost slipping on some loose gravel, and the third kid gets passed similarly when I use my momentum to ascend a slight hill. Checking over my shoulder, I'm way ahead of nearly two dozen kids coming up from the rear. Based on what I saw before entering the woods, I'm probably somehwere around 90th-100th place. I don't know how far ahead Josh is, but upon reaching the next uphill I'm just hoping he's feeling better than me.

Pain. I havn't yet reached the steepest hill everyone knows signifys the second mile, and I'm already starting to slow to a jog. A kid in a yellow jersey passes me, and I concentrate on following him. At this point I'm not even looking up; my head is stuck at an angle where I'm looking at the kid's feet and the rocks he's kicking up. I use a downhill to my advantage, catching up to the kid's shoulder, and the two of us run side by side for about a hundred meters, passing almost ten more guys. Finally, there it is.

The hill.

It takes every ounce of strenth I've got to not walk up this thing, it's just so ridiculously steep. Kid in Yellow leaves me for dead and I'm taking baby steps up this behemoth, just straining to not walk and ruin my pace. When I finally reach the top my legs are so heavy I'm taking infant steps for almost fifteen feet. The noise of shoes beating the ground is catching up behind me, and I know the sharks are closing in. Time to step it up.

To take my mind off the pain I start humming a tune, not realizing it's Elton John's Love Lies Bleeding in my Hands. Not a great song for running, but I could do a lot worse. An older gentlemen calls for me to stay straight upon reaching an intersection, and I give a nod of appreciation since I honestly wasn't paying attention. It is at this moment that DEATH chooses to reveal himself to me in the form of a porky little fellow clad in green. I had been aware of his steady approach for a few minutes now, and upon seeing my poor performance on the previous hill he decided to make his move. I give my position to him on a silver platter, even moving to the side so he could get by. He grunts something to the effect of thanks (he's gasping over his words) but when he passes I felt like I was punched in the face.

This kid has some serious fucking B.O.

I'm not kidding when I say this kid smelled so bad I considered it offensive. I don't know if he had been wrestling swine prior to the race or simply hadn't showered for a few days, but it was just plain awful. I was now conflicted. My survival instincts told me to stay as far away from this moving compost heap as possible, but the part of me that wanted to beat him said that if I managed to pass him both sides would be satisfied. The steepest downhill of the course was about to come up, and I chose to make my move then. About ten feet before we reached the decline I sprinted for all I was humanly worth past him, and almost died going down the hill. Loose gravel was sliding everywhere beneath my feet and those funny looking wooden planks would trip and easily kill me if I took a wrong step. My breath was coming in very sharp gasps now, and I managed a smile at how stupidly I had run this event, letting others who were obviously above my skill level guide my pace. Still, my objective for the moment was complete, and DEATH lay many feet behind me as I flew down a straightaway, anxious to use the speed I had accumulated to let me coast as far as I could. Three girls who had been walking down the course jumped to the side as I passed, and I gained some more confidence at crys of "Go Pelham yeah!"

Things were getting really tough now. Kid in Yellow had been sighted far ahead of me, and wouldn't you guess it, Stick was running with him! A mild downhill running alongside the green fence I was so familiar with let me loosen my stride a bit, and I closed within ten feet of the two of them, as well as the group of seven they were chasing. About thirty seconds later Stick jumped a little, then began hobbling. I don't know whether a cramp snuck up on him or if he was finally feeling the effects of falling earlier, but I ran past him telling him "keep going, not much farther." He smiled but fell behind and was enveloped by DEATH. He didn't deserve it I tell myself, and I vow to finish strong for him. For Stick.

Kid in Yellow and I are now closing in on the party in front of us, which is surprisingly made up of seven kids from different schools who simply kept pace with each other. KiY makes a move to go left around them, but I see the turn up ahead of us and choose to go right, passing three of them, KiY managing only one pass. As we finally leave the fence trail and hit the open stretch of pavement that leads back to the bridge, I desperately try to put some distance between myself and the rest of the group- no good. These guys are pacing themselves well, too well at the moment for how I've been running, and they all pass me as we get back to the bridge. My feet hit the pavement of the bridge, and feeling good with some solid terrain underneath me I make a sharp turn down the hill that runs parallel to the Hudson River parkway. Eight guys in front of me. Eight guys I'm going to pick off.

The hill ends and we're all using it to coast as far as we possibly can; speed is key now that we've reached the straightaway. Only 600 meters remain, and two of the guys in our pack actually laugh when Runner Village comes into view. Hugging the tree line, the nine of us are still only jogging, which leads me to believe these guys are familiar with the course- the ending of the 2.5 mile race is extremely deceptive to runners who don't know it, because while you can see the finish line in plain sight, it's still over a lap's distance from you. People who start sprinting while coming off of the hill are caught and swallowed up in the feet preceding the finish line.

Kid in Yellow makes his move when two girls from his school start screaming his name. Andrew. So his name is Andrew. I'm gasping for breath in heavy rises and falls of my chest, playing the name over and over in my head so I don't realize how tired I am and throw the race to these other guys. Crap. The three boys leading us finally put the speed on and begin breaking away, and surprisingly I'm the only guy who bothers to try and keep up with them. Andrew and the other four are all staying behind, despite the fact we have such little distance left. I glance over my shoulder and, yes, DEATH is still following me.

The Finish Line (Go ender go!)

The crowd hugging the path to the finish line has to be made of at least a thousand people, and it's me and three other boys giving it all we're worth to finish up the last two hundred meters. I'm breathing so hard I'm sure my lungs are going to explode or my heart is going to collapse. The crowd is screaming now, and we've reached the final straightaway, no turns, no hills, no gravel, just solid pavement for our last efforts. Mrs. Powers, my parents, and the rest of my team are screaming fanatically for me to keep going, you can beat these guys, don't give up, etc., but I don't know if I can. I've never been running this fast in my life, and these guys are not only keeping up with me, they're still pulling away.

For Stick.

A kid in black begins stumbling the last hundred feet we have left to go, and I pass him before I even know he's in trouble. One and Two are still moving mind numbingly fast, and as I watch the line get bigger and bigger I start swinging my arms and stretching my legs to cover as much distance as they're able. There! I'm even with them! The boy formerly known as One is out of steam, and he's replaced by Two and myself. I'm One. I'm not even looking at the kid next to me; we're so close our shoulders are actually rubbing against each other, and as the lane narrows off to feed into the chute, I pull ahead and beat him.

Conclusion

I never saw the face of the kid I sprinted with at the end. We both fell into the chute at the same time, filing behind the dozens of kids before us while waiting to hand in our numbers, and I was too busy gasping for air to turn around and congratulate him on such a strong race/finish. After handing in my number to the official at the end of the line I turned around and waited for Andrew to file through before we slapped hands and gave each other a "great race man." My team ran up to meet me, except for Josh who was obviously exhausted, and as they congratulated me my parents rushed over with a can of coke. Damn it tasted good.

I completed the 2.5 mile race at Van Cortlandt Park in 16:53 and placed 115th out of 348. That's a body of runners for you. Josh finished in 20th place, receiving a medal and an invitation to some marathon whose name I didn't bother catching. At that time it wasn't important; our race was over, and we had both finished to the best of our respective potentials. My next race is this coming Tuesday.

Dialtone: hmm
Dialtone: red lines
Dialtone: "base camp"
Dialtone: "runner village"
Dialtone: Burger king!?
Dialtone: if your staging a military coup its alright, just tel me man

ZerG~LinG:

"Could be fun. Loads of pictures of you and your companions is always a laugh - even though it's not japanese hentai shops anymore."