3806

Well, I did it….I went to the USA Track & Field Indoor National Championships and competed with the best athletes in the country.  I surpassed my goal of scoring 3700 points in the pentathlon with room to spare.  In fact, 3806 is the second highest score recorded in the U.S. in the 50 year-old age group in the last 6 years!

Unfortunately the only guy with a higher score during that 6 year period did it this year at this same meet.  So despite achieving my point goal I ended up with the silver medal:

When I started training for this event last summer, I told everyone who asked that I wouldn’t go if I didn’t think I could win.  But by the end, my attitude had changed.  I knew that it was going to be a long-shot for me to beat the guy who ended up winning.  He had won several masters track national championships in previous years.  But I had invested so much time in my training I decided I had to go and give it my best shot.

I had looked up his previous results online and seen what he could do in the high jump, long jump, shot put, and1000 meter run.  I figured that if we both performed at or near our bests, the only chance I had of beating him was if he really stunk in the hurdles.  Since the hurdles is the first event contested, I wouldn’t have to wait long for my answer.

I think knowing that information in advance helped calm my nerves.  I knew where I stood, I felt like I was prepared, and I knew that I would be satisfied with my results if I performed well, no matter where I placed.  I was much more relaxed before this meet than I was before my first meet last month in Arizona.

There were 15 people entered in my division, but four of them scratched, leaving eleven of us to do battle.  We were divided into 4 flights for the hurdles, with me in the final group.  My nemesis was in the group before me, so I was going to have a pretty good idea of what my chances of winning were before I ever got into the blocks.

The gun went off.  He looked good but not great, and won his heat easily.  Then his time flashed up on the scoreboard…9.21!  The best hurdle specialists in our age group run around 9 flat, so he was obviously very, very good.  This guy showed why he is a champion sprinter…he made going fast look easy.   My chances of beating him now looked very bleak.

Then it was my turn.  My only previous race had been in Arizona, where I recorded a 10.3.  I had worked on my technique as much as my hamstring would allow since then, and I knew I could do better than that.  How much better I really didn’t know.  You need to run in under 10.2 in my age group to earn “All-American” status.  I was pretty sure I could do that.  I was really hoping to get it under 10 seconds, but had no idea if that was a reasonable dream.

I ran a clean race.  It felt a lot smoother than the one in Flagstaff, but not as good as some of my practices had been.  I won my heat easily, then turned my attention to the scoreboard.  It was there almost instantly….9.58!!!  As good as I possibly could have hoped for… the second fastest time of the day and a score of over 900 points.

Next up was long jump, and things didn’t go as well there.  I hadn’t actually taken any practice jumps since the meet at Diablo Valley College in January.  There I thought my form was fine, I just couldn’t get my run-up close to the take-off board.  So I practiced my runs a couple of different times, and it went well.  During these workouts I was hitting my take-off spot consistently and I felt good about it.

In warm-ups at the meet it all unraveled.  On my first trial run I was right on the take-off board, but with the wrong foot.  I got that corrected, but when the time came for my actual jumps it was a repeat of DiabloValley.  My takeoff would be a foot ot two short of the board, so I would adjust and move my starting point up.  By my 3rd attempt I had moved my starting point up 2.5 feet, but still took off about 18 inches behind the board.  That jump measured 17′ 1.5  inches, which was once again good for 2nd place, but moved me further behind the leader.

Shot put came next.  When you add in all the time I spent weight training specifically to help my throws, I spent more time on this event than any other.  Very little of that time was spent actually throwing a shot like you would in competition.  It was almost entirely all drills designed to add strength and or speed to my arms and legs.  I had read somewhere that technique only added about 5-7% to your throws, that most of your distance came from the power you generated.  So that’s where I focused my attention.  Then the last couple of weeks I played around with a glide step, but even that I did unconventionally.  I practiced the movement inside in a mirror, but I didn’t actually throw anything because I didn’t want to risk hurting my elbow.

Finally at the end of last week I threw a 10# shot a total of 3 times using the glide.  Those were the best throws I had ever made.  Two of them were over 40′, which I had never been able to do before.

I had to throw a 6 kilo (13.2#) shot in the competition.  In my practices I found that every extra pound thrown decreased distance by about a foot, so I figured I was looking at a best of maybe 37′, with the adrenalin of competition hopefully adding a foot or two to that.  My plan was to try and make one safe throw (36-37′) standing and then to try the next two with the glide and hope to get lucky.

I felt pretty good in warm-ups.  I did some standing throws that looked solid and then took a few practice glide steps without throwing anything.  Then I stepped into the ring and officially threw a shot put for the 1st time in my life.

I could see that it landed out reasonably close to the 40′ line.  It measured 11.5 meters, which I knew was close to 38 feet.  My standing throw was just about as good as I was hoping for using the glide step, so I was very relieved.  Anything better on my remaining two attempts with the glide was just going to be a bonus.

When the shot left my hand on my second throw I thought I had messed up.  The glide step itself seemed fast and smooth, but it felt like the shot had slid off the side of my palm.  So it was an unexpected surprise to see it land out past the 40′ line.  My arms were raised triumphantly and a big smile crossed my face.  Even my fellow competitors cheered….12.44 meters, 40′ 9.75″.  Unbelievable, I had won my 1st event of the day.

Next we moved onto high jump, and I was feeling pretty good.  I was solidly in 2nd place overall, and this figured to be a pretty good event for me.  I came in around 4′ 9″ and made that and my next couple of jump easily.  But then I missed at 5′ 2.5″.  I made it on my second attempt, but just barely.  I was dropping my butt too soon just like I had done in Arizona.  Obviously the two times I’d practiced since then hadn’t been enough.

The bar then moved to 5′ 4″, and there were just 3 of us still jumping.  They both cleared it, and now it was my turn.  Clearing this would give me another All-American mark, so I really wanted it.   But I missed my 1st attempt, and since I was the only one left jumping at this height, it was my turn again.  On my 2nd try I kept my butt up slightly longer, but it still just barely skimmed the bar.  I landed, looked up to see the bar still in place, and then it fell.  DAMN!  It was my turn again.

So I was down to my final attempt, and I did exactly what I coach my young jumpers not to do.  I tried really, really, extra hard to make it over the bar.  The back of my head clanged really, really, extra hard off of the right standard.  As I lay on the mat I kept feeling around on my scalp, expecting to find blood.  Fortunately I just got a nice bump and a long, red welt, plus a little sympathy from my fellow competitors.  No All-American mark today, but at least I wasn’t on my way to the hospital!

One guy had failed to clear a height in high jump, so he dropped out entirely.  So ten of us would be racing in the final event, the dreaded 1000 meter run.  Fortunately for the three of us vying for the medals, the outcome was not really in doubt.  Each man had in effect an almost insurmountable lead over his next closest rival.  As long as nobody did anything stupid, we could just run a comfortable race, hold our position, collect our medal, and go home.  Five laps around the 200 meter indoor track and it would all be over.

At the gun I held back.  No sense getting caught in traffic and risking a pile-up.  For most of the first lap I was 10th in a ten man race.  As we finished that lap I passed my first man.  It wouldn’t be my last.

I had trained enough to know that I could run 40 second laps.  The pace today was around 42 and I was gaining on the field.  I passed a couple of more people on the next few laps, and was feeling pretty comfortable.  All those intervals I’d run were paying off.

This was in stark contrast to the 800 meter race I had tested myself with at Diablo Valley.  There I was the oldest and the slowest man in the field, and I went out a little too fast for the first 400.  I was dying the entire last lap, and I had no kick whatsoever at the end of the race.  Today it was an entirely different experience.  I had something left and I wanted to use it.

With 200 meters to go I had 6 men in front of me.  The guys in 1st and 3rd overall were running together right in front of me, and then the three guys leading the race were spaced out evenly in front of them.  As we rounded the first turn on that final lap I blew by the first pair like they were standing still.  I picked the next guy off on the back stretch and I was still feeling good.  It was a pretty big gap to the next guy, but I figured if I passed him I would finish 3rd.  I hadn’t finished worse than 3rd in any of the other events, so this seemed worthwhile.  I caught and passed him at the top of the homestretch.

By now I was starting to tire.  The winner was crossing the finish line, and the guy in 2nd was about 15 yards ahead of me.  I quickly calculated in my head—can I make up that much ground with 50 yards to go?  My first thought was “no way” and that was followed quickly by “why bother”.  But then all of those torturous intervals I had run on the treadmill flashed into my mind.  “This is why you trained so hard.  Get him!”

I was at a full sprint now, legs aching, lungs burning.  It was going to be close.  So close, I don’t think he had time to react.  I pulled even with him with maybe 2 yards to go, and my momentum carried me home 18/100ths of a second in front of him.  Did it matter?  No, overall I finished over 800 points in front of that guy.  But it made the end of the race exciting for me and it felt great to have a finishing kick.

So that was it.  I collapsed on the track and took a bit to recover, then shook some hands, exchanged congratulations, took some pictures, and collected my medal.  I’ll add some reflections on the whole experience and talk about my future plans in a few days.  I wanted to get these details put down now while they were fresh in my mind.