Track meets and Superman slides

Saturday I drove to Gunnison to watch a couple kiddos from Adams State compete at the Rocky Mountain Athletic Conference indoor track and field championships.  The main kiddo of interest had only one event thanks to a recent injury.  He pointed out it was "a long drive for eight seconds" of watching the 60m hurdles go down.  But it was my first time getting to watch a collegiate athlete perform after I've helped them return to sport.  Totally worth it.  

It was also the first track meet I have attended since the state finals of my senior year in high school.  The memories flooded back.  The D2 athletes all had much more codified preparation and routines, but they are just as apt to go too hard too fast and then get reeled in and passed by the pack.  The no-long juvenile and yet still immature nerves!  It was also impressive to see those who truly have a good head on their shoulders along with the physical capacity to back it up. 

I wondered how many were there for the love of the sport versus as a way to fund their education. Sometimes a particular school has gaps in their training which are apparent, but the body language of runners can speak loudly.  They all end up wanting the win or wanting to PR on the right day when in the moment.  It's the daily/hourly commitment when off the track that speaks so greatly. 

I always wonder how my track trajectory would have differed if my high school is a true distance program.  The more I watch and learn, the more I wonder if I wasn't more suited for the mile.  The irony is that I hated the mile in high school.  I'm not sure if it was the distance itself or the fact that it was multiple laps and thus required many many multiple laps during practice. I didn't even really like the 800m, one of my main events, but my competitiveness made it meaningful anyways. There were hardly any others running the mile (particularly females aside from the occasional freshman who didn't stay the whole season) so that contributed to the lack of fun. That was what made the 4x400 so passionate for me - the team, the interactions, the strategy, knowing how you know your teammates, and the gut wrenching effort involved.  But I was burned out by the end of senior year.  I never once considered running for college as a remote possibility even though I likely could have.

Even so, my heart nearly pounded a hole through my sternum during those eight seconds and the minute beforehand thanks to someone's false start.  And while the 10,000m on an outdoor track is probably THE most beautiful of running events, it was sole soothing to watch the 3000m.  (I missed the 5000m, as it was Friday while I was at work.)  

The track meet certainly took the sting out my my morning run, where at 14.87 into a 15 mile run I slipped on an unseen flake of ice beneath the snow while turning into the ranch.  I belly-slid a la Superman but with a snow-filled face plant, hit both knees, and my right knee got cut up as the ice slashed my winter tights.  Then as I looked up for dogdog sympathy I saw Luna dashing off into a field a quarter mile away, chasing what she thought was a fox or coyote but probably was her imagination.  Bleeding, ego deflated, and with a dog that didn't care less.  Just the day before I laughed when a colleague said they fell in the parking lot when their three-inch heels hit ice.  My response: "Of course you did, idiot!"  She fell gracefully into a large and poofy pile of snow and had coworkers to help her get up.  I ended up with this:

Ain't karma a bitch.