By Mark Walters
8As you may know, it has been three weeks since Hofstra Cross Country’s last race. That was the Iona Meet of Champions at Van Cortlandt Park. This week, we’re going back to the Bronx.
Considered by some as the cross country mecca of America, many may think of Van Cortlandt as a shell of its former self. It used to host the NCAA national championship meet. That was decades ago. Steve Prefontaine-the James Dean of track and cross country-once ran in the Bronx.
Runner’s Edge, a local specialty running store in Farmingdale, has a picture of Prefontaine leading a race, crossing the bridge of Van Cortlandt. It’s a picture that has always moved me. To think I’ve trod the same hallowed ground as legends of this great sport. Things like that give me chills, and lately I’ve been searching high and low for little things… anything to motivate me.
Articles, past results, pictures. Anything to light that spark that was lit back in the 10th grade. Back when I was a clueless child, unaware of the multi-headed monster that is cross country at the highest level.
When I ran in high school, running in college was my goal. I used to picture myself wearing different uniforms, on different campuses, imagining what it would be like to be a collegiate athlete.
Now, here I am. Or rather, here I’ve been.
In the years I’ve been grinding away, running has become so much a part of me. The ups and downs, the thrills and defeats; they have helped define the past six years of my life, and it wasn’t until now that I’ve finally taken time to look back and reflect.
Anticipation is something we live by. What’s the next high? When is the next party? Looking forward to the weekend, to a holiday, to something for which someone longs. Often times however, no one reaches the moment they’ve been waiting for and thinks back to when they were still yearning for it. They just take it and enjoy it, forgetting about how empty they felt without out it.
I remember as a kid going to basketball games as a member of the travel team, and my mom and I getting lost en route to some gym in a remote area of my home county in Pennsylvania. As an 11-year-old, I’d sit and become hot with anxiety, worrying that we’d be late or even miss the game completely.
I’d sit and tell myself that we’d find the gym, which we always did, and once the game started, I’d remember back to sitting in the car with my mom, scared sick that we wouldn’t find the place. Of course, once we arrived and the game began, I never thought back to the car ride, being lost, or worrying about making it on time.
I’m trying to do that right now with the past six years of my life.
As a high school runner, I fantasized about going away to college and being transformed into a machine of a runner. Becoming stronger, coming home and flattering people with what I had become. I had seen athletes before me go away to college and continue their sport, and it was something I had wanted more than anything for my insecure little self.
Again, here I am.
Is it all that I imagined? Yes and no. To be honest, it’s better than what I thought it would be. The relationships I’ve forged and the person I’ve become over the past three-plus years is something that couldn’t have happened anywhere else. I can’t say enough about the way everything has turned out.
Contrarily, there is always the “what-ifs” that linger. I don’t regret anything, but I still sit back and think. Of course, there is always fear and doubt. Going into this race though, the New York Metropolitan Championships, I’m feeling pretty good.
This week’s workout on Tuesday reminded me why I do this. We did three sets of four 400-meter loops followed by two continuous, all-out miles-simulating the dog-tiredness we’re going to feel at that point of a race. Each set of four 400-meters was to get faster, and they did.
We took turns leading each interval, and on the eighth or ninth one, I opted to take it.
“No,” Phil Giackette said. “You take the last one.”
Fitting, give the senior the last interval on a day where everyone is hurting. Finishing up that last 400, Phil was right in my ear, pushing me, telling me that I had more to give, and sure enough, I dug and found something.
As I finished, it made me realize that while I may be a senior and nearing the end of my collegiate career, I still have a lot to give. I need to keep pushing, keep running, searching for that next high, the next “party,” if you will. I need to anticipate with all my desire goals unimaginable, and set out for them.
Achieve the goals or not, let it be noted that I can’t lose. I can’t fail when I’ve given it my all. Cliché as it may be, losing isn’t running and coming up short, losing is running half-assed.
After all, the race isn’t always to the swift, but to he who keeps running.
Mark Walters is a senior staff writer for The Chronicle. He is the senior captain of the Hofstra men’s cross country team. This is his memoir of his final season wearing the blue, white and gold.