Running: Part VII

(The saga continues. Preceded by parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6.)

Revenge or redemption, whatever you want to call it, has been a recurring theme throughout my running career. If a race doesn't go well (1990 State track, 2001 Pike's Peak Ascent) or if I feel wronged in some way (1991 KU Relays and SM North Relays), I do all I can to make it right. Redemption was on my mind as I entered the summer of 1990. The tripping during the 1600-meter state track race sufficiently fueled three months of miles.

The problem was I never really took a breather. After my breakout sophomore track season, which I attributed largely to Tom Dowling's winter tutoring, I was ready to do whatever he commanded during the summer. If there's one retrospective criticism I have of Tom's training plans for me, it's that he didn't budget enough rest. It might not have been a problem, if I wasn't working 10-12 hours every summer day for Ronan's Roofing. Most days, I'd rise at 5 a.m., work in the sun from 6 to 6, eat dinner, then run at 9 p.m.

I was cooked by the time mid-July rolled around. If I felt that way now, I'd take a day or a week off. The 16-year-old version of me forged ahead. The result was a poor summer of training and, while I did have a better cross country season as a junior than as a sophomore, I didn’t competed for wins like I thought I should. Seventeenth at our home meet, seventh at Maur Hill, tenth at Leavenworth and sixth at Metro. Again, far better than what I'd achieved before, but nothing like I’d done during track season.

Tom suggested I jog three or so miles each morning before school, to keep my mileage up until later in the season. I know this drove Coach Wilson crazy. And, now that I've coached high school kids myself, I understand why. I followed Tom's advice for the first few weeks of the season. Then, sensing my fatigue was not easing, I backed off.

In late September, at the Blue Valley Invitational, things finally started turning around. I kept pace with BV North's Dan Wnorowski (a runner I wanted desperately to beat) for most of the race before placing just behind him in fourth.



The next week, I led for two miles before finishing third at a home meet. My confidence surging, I was somewhat disappointed with fourth and fifth place finishes at Eastern Kansas League and the 5A Regional meets. But, despite being slightly annoyed with those individual placings, I was thrilled that our team finished second at that regional to qualify for our first state meet. A year earlier, I'd missed the regional with a stress fracture. Now, we were on our way to Manhattan.

As a fifth place regional finisher, I was probably expected to place fifteenth to twentieth at state. Something got into me that day, though, and I ran what was probably my best cross country race to date, taking tenth place and earning All-State honors. Among those behind me, my track nemesis (and reigning 1600 meter champion) Ryan Johnson.



So, my junior cross country season turned out okay. I partially erased the disappointment of not running at regionals as a sophomore. And our team competed at its first state meet. But, as would always be the case, track was my first priority. The 1600-meter, in particular.

My ensuing winter training often took me by way of a bridge that crossed Interstate 35. From that bridge, I could see a highway sign that read "Olathe 2, Wichita 174." I created a cheap replica and affixed it to the inside of my school locker. I was going to avenge the state mile tripping and no one was going to stop me.