I’m not sure where to begin, as it was a weekend filled with such extreme emotions in such a short period of time. At one moment you’re trying to contain your excitement, confidence and fervor for what lies ahead and then just as suddenly it’s gone. You stagger away like you just finished 15 rounds of a prize fight, but the only thing broken is your heart.
I guess I should start from the weekend prior, when we began the final stretch of the season at Harkness Memorial Park for New England Regionals. Arriving at the course on Friday, it was a beautiful late fall afternoon as we criss-crossed the course and took in views of the Long Island Sound. Ending our run at the starting line, we milled around quietly as dusk rolled in and concluded the day with a few final strides. In those final minutes of that afternoon, I noticed a distinct sense of confidence, focus, as well as relaxation, among all the guys on the team. It’s not as if everyone was talking a lot about the race or that we had given some inspiring speech before departing for the hotel; it was just the feeling of being present which made it especially memorable.
Similar to every other Saturday in the previous weeks, we toed the line and despite the chilly and extremely windy day, we were able to execute our pre-race plan to near perfection. While certainly pleased with our overall effort and performance, I was perhaps more impressed with our demeanor post-race. We came up just one point shy of victory, yet everyone was cool, calm, and collected. All the guys were professional, treating the race as just another notch in the belt. I think this says a lot about the growth of our program, as just last year we were completely over the moon with our runner-up finish at regionals. With the penultimate race in the books, we hopped in the van home with big smiles and eagerness for the week ahead.
After a short tune-up workout, fresh haircuts and mustaches, bags were packed and we were on our way to OshKosh, Wisconsin. Getting out to America’s Dairyland by Wednesday night ensured us plenty of time to preview the course and rest up. For the first time all fall, we were treated to nasty weather as both Thursday and Friday hovered in the mid-twenties with strong winds throughout both days. Though they were calling for snow on race day, we were fortunately spared and instead woke up to a cold, gray day in the Mid-West.
There is very little you can do as a coach once you reach the final week of the season. The workouts are over, replaced with easy shakeouts, lots of downtime, and a final wrap-up of the team and individual goals for the race. I always try to add comedic relief in the build-up to race day. I think it’s equally important that we all stay loose, enjoy the moment, and not have our mind totally consumed by the looming challenge.
The van ride over to the course was mostly in silence, each of us dealing with the upcoming task in our own specific ways. Some with headphones in, others with eyes shut, and a few just staring off into the wide open farmland that passed us by. For myself, I visualized the best case scenario for the race and each of the guys running to their respective potential. Right before exiting the vans, we had a quick moment of affirmation amongst each other and then made our way to the tents one final time.
You’re standing there in a big open field, cold, windy, and with hundreds of runners whizzing by to get in their final strides before the gun. I try to make eye contact with each one of my runners before they toe the line. I admire them so much in these fleeting minutes. I give each one a big hug, wish them some form of good luck, and we form a huddle for the last time.
My heart is pounding out of my chest now. The gun goes off. The mass of bodies flies across the well-manicured golf course. I try my best to be in the most desolate spots. Try and shout above screaming mothers, obnoxious cow bells, and hordes of scantily clad teammates. Things are looking good, everyone is well positioned. More redlining, running, and screaming. It’s a bit dicey now…can we hang on? The running stops, I try to push up to the finish chute gates and scan the horizon for my guys, it’s over. Something you have looked forward to for a whole year and it lasts less than 30 minutes.
I had never felt more confused or lost as a coach than how I felt after that race. Of course we hadn’t been immune to poor races or sub-par efforts throughout the season, but that day’s result felt so much different. I would grade a majority of the race as a B+, where we sat in 4th or 5th for the first 7,000m. Then it all unraveled, some would say it was an epic implosion, but from the 7k-mark to the finish line, we went from sitting in 5th place all the way to 10th place.
As we packed our bags and departed the course, sat through the awards ceremony, wallowed in our hotel rooms and at dinner, I still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened or what to say to the seven guys who raced. People asked me if I was mad or disappointed in the effort by my team. I never once felt angry or thought there was a person or course of action to blame. At the end of the day, I just felt really heartbroken for every guy who raced and those back home. We were so close to a long sought after goal and were on such a positive trajectory for most of the fall, but at the end of the day it just didn’t come to fruition.
In the weeks that followed and the numerous conversations I had with the guys on my team, I still was unsure about what exactly happened on that Saturday afternoon in Wisconsin. I mostly just tried to listen and offer my best perspective of that day. Over time, I have also begun to realize how important that day was for the guys racing, the team, and myself as a coach. At first, we would see the overall success of the season as slightly blemished due to our failure of accomplishing our goals at NCAAs. Though I think our failure also enabled us to see how much we had accomplished this fall and how much the program has grown from top to bottom. As I look back now on those days leading up to the race and even Saturday itself, I can’t help but feel a sense of endearment, joy, and respect for those days. On such an unfortunate day, I felt myself develop an even deeper passion for this sport, team, and career.
“The one gift I can give you to every day no matter what, is my unconditional support” – Jim Valvano
Luke Maher 