Revenge is Sweet

When I was running in junior college I had a teammate, Darryl, that I did most of my track work-outs with. Now, Darryl had a flair for the dramatic. When he would finish a race, his arms would flail, his eyes would roll in his head, stumble a few steps and then collapse on the side of the track. Every race and work-out was a masterpiece production of suffering at its finest. For the most part I just accepted this as part of his quirky personality. However, our coach had a work-out that we had to do while preparing for our league finals and the Nor-Cal championships that called for us to run 2 X 1 1/2 miles with a 5 min rest jog and then 2 X 1 mile with a 3 min rest. Not a super hard work-out, but taxing none the less.

The plan was that Darryl would set the pace on the first lap and then we would take turns leading by alternating laps. Coach sent us on our way and Darryl took the lead. We passed the starting post and I took my turn at the helm. As we approached the 3rd lap, I noticed Darryl had not pulled up alongside me. Instead, I started to hear the sound of heavy breathing. This went on for laps 3, 4, and 5 as I lead going into the last lap. Finally, on the last lap, gasping for breath, slobber flying from his mouth, fortunately he missed my face with his foam, he blew by me over the last 200 and left me in the dust.

During the recovery I remember asking him, "are you alright?" In which he made some kind of incoherent reply, but toed the line for the next 1 1/2 mile repeat. Same game plan. Same result. Same out-kicking over the last 200. Recovery. Silence from me. One mile repeat number 1: Darryl leads first lap, I lead 2 and 3, out-kicked over the last 200. Mile repeat number 2. Same plan. Same result. Same silence from me.

Two weeks later we do the same work-out and the exact thing happens again! Lets just put it like this; I was pissed! Now, I must be fair, Darryl was a much more accomplished runner than I had been at the time. He had ran faster than me at all distances. He was our number 1 runner. But come on, pull your share of the work-out load dude! I was tired of being the mule being rode hard and put away wet at the 200 mark.

Two years later, we are both at the NCAA Cross Country West Regional meet. I was coming off the best season I had ever had. I was fit and ready to race. Our team, Sonoma State was looking to make its first appearance at the NCAA's. To say the least, I was pumped up for this one. Darryl was running for Bakersfield State now and was their number 1 runner and they were there as well. Darryl and I had not raced each other in nearly two years. I had been running faster all season, but not one head to head with Darryl.

Five miles into the 10K race I am starting to feel the fatigue of the long season. Running in the orange groves around UC Riverside was tough on my allergies and the dusty ground only added to my discomfort. I could feel another runner pulling up to my shoulder. Crap, it was Darryl! He passed me. Desperately I hung close behind. The whole time the memories of those two work-outs came rushing into my head. Not again. Why? This is supposed to by my day in the sun. Darryl pushed harder and harder to the finish. As we came into view of the finish shoot coming out of the orange groves a mere 200 meters away, I had one last thought; not today sucka!

With 200 to go I dug down with all I had. Every memory of Darryl kicking past me with 200 to go played in my head as I began to lift my knees and drive home. I pulled even and then it happened. I passed him. In a gray haze blur of 20 something seconds I reached the finish and looked to find Darryl, mouth foaming, eyes rolling, coming in behind me.

Yes my friends, revenge is sweet!

Until the next post, keep running and stay healthy.
SP