Your greatest win ever?

Does winning my local 10k marathon count?

Nj pick 6 lottery 7.4 million cash

Granted it was just the consolation heat at the state meet, I led from start to finish. It was the only successful indoor track season I had because the parents had me swimming until I was 16...lame. Might not have been an underdog race necessarily, but it was a big PR from me after battling back from major injuries.

Also know that I was a pure distance runner who never broke 60 in the 400 haha. I could always laugh over running a hs 5k at 16 flat but could never break 60...also lame

kod3200 wrote:

Lets hear them, I'm curious. Who's got the best underdog, win from behind, win in the kick race story. All stories are welcome unless you're a 100 meter runner or something. GTFO.

Great thread, kod3200. Here's my best race story, and it's also an excerpt from a book I wrote titled Running: A Long Distance Love Affair (Did I mention you can find it on Amazon.com?):

The "White Moment"

As I’m walking to the starting line, Coach grabs me by the arm. "Shawn, listen, you can get the record today. We both know you can. Are you as tired of waiting for it as I am?"

I look Coach in the eyes and give him a nod. He pats me on the back, and I head for the line again.

"Hey,” he calls after me. “Remember what we talked about—you run your race, okay? Your race."

I turn my head and give him another nod. Then I take my position on the line as the number-three miler in the State. To my left are numbers one and two, seniors Pinto and Schultz. To my right are numbers four and five, my fellow juniors, Neumann and James.

At the side of the track, the starter signals the timers and raises his gun in the air. "Runners set!" he calls. There is a tense pause as we all lean forward, frozen on the line. Then the BOOM! of the gun, and we're off.

I start fast to keep from getting boxed-in. Rather than run tight on the curve, I run on the line between lanes one and two as Coach instructed. Rounding the first turn, I'm in second place behind Schultz, who always starts too fast. But as we reach the end of the turn and start down the back straight, I ease up a little, and runners pass me on the outside. Stifling the urge to go with them, I have to calm the adrenaline and run this first lap as smoothly as I can.

Coming to the end of the first lap, I hear the head timer: "Sixty-two . . . sixty-three!" A quick opening lap. The lead pack, now led by Schultz, Pinto, Neumann and James, is twenty yards ahead. If I ran a 63, Schultz must have hit the first lap in close to 60 seconds. Good thing I held back.

I run the second lap slower than the first. Several more runners pass me, but when I hear the time I know I'm on pace for the record. The lead pack is still twenty yards ahead, and I'm now in about tenth place. That's okay, I think—they went out too fast. Surely, they'll come back to me.

Coming down the back straight of the third lap, I speed up a bit and begin passing other runners. None of them responds to the challenge. Going into the turn, I pass Neumann. Several of his teammates on the infield cheer him on. One of them yells, "Come on, Neumann, go get him!"

Always a tough runner, Neumann tries to respond, but when I speed up again, he can't stay with me. I remember jogging by him and some of his friends during my warm-up. One of them said, in a voice I think was meant for me to hear, "No way that guy's gonna win today."

Rounding the final turn of the third lap, I pull up to a group of three runners, including Schultz and James. Ten yards ahead and not relinquishing an inch is Pinto.

Coming down the home straight of the third lap, I move out into the second lane and begin a long, sustained kick, 500 yards out. Quickly passing James and Schultz, I move into second place, surprised that neither of them offers a serious challenge. Up ahead, Pinto is gathering himself for a kick to the finish.

Because I'm almost sprinting, I quickly close the gap on Pinto and pull up beside him. Pinto's home crowd goes crazy. Accustomed to winning championships, they rise to their feet as one, cheering loudly for Pinto.

With the crack of the final-lap gun, we hit the penultimate turn. I reach deep inside and discover something I've never felt before. It is incredible. It is pure power. It is the "white moment" athletes talk about in reverent tones, the moment in sports when everything comes together perfectly at precisely the right time.

I blow by Pinto as if he's running slow motion in a bad dream. He tries to respond, but in vain. As I hit the final turn, the gap between us is twenty yards and growing. I sprint around the turn and blast down the home straight, breaking the tape, breaking our school record, and shattering Pinto's record by four seconds.

Pinto crosses the line in second, tying his previous record. James finishes third, and Neumann fourth. “Kamikaze” Schultz, the State mile record holder, finishes a very disappointing fifth.

Seeing Coach near the finish line, I walk to him. The record belongs to both of us. We shake hands, and then we give each other a big bear hug. Several of my teammates give me high-fives, and Julie gives me a little hug of her own and says, "That's the best race I've ever seen." Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turn around. There stands Pinto, his hand held out to me. "Good race, man," he says. “Good race.” We shake hands for the first time.

State Finals junior year 800. Won the 1600 (expected to) but was seeded 8th in the 800, barely qualified at regionals. Lead through 600, got passed and thought I was done. Found another gear and blew by the dude with about 70 to go. By far my favorite race I have ever run. Surprised myself.

Well so far I've got 3 wins.

win#1: 5k road race last year where I won over a minute and a half, 200m into the race I could no longer even hear anyone behind me.

win#2: that same 5k road race, this time I won by 74 seconds and set the course record by about 20 seconds.

win#3: won my hometown half marathon in August, went out with the leader and sat on his shoulder til 3.5 miles then I passed him and went on to win by nearly 3 minutes

senior year state 800 final. was the first time i ever had made it to state in track. with a pr of 2:00.17 my biggest goal was really to break 2 i could have cared less where i placed. so on race day it is pouring down rain and cold as &%^# but i just warmed up and kept telling myself its just rain its just rain. got out hard the first 200(around 25-6) to maintain some kind of contact with the leaders and came through 400 in 57 my fastest first lap of the year and i was in 6th. but then i was like well may as well make my last 800 hurt. so i passed three or four guys on the backstretch and pulled all the way up to second and just didn't quite have the kick to out sprint the guy that won but i got second in a race i should have gotten 6th in. saw the clock was at 1:58.92 and i have never been so relieved in my life hahahaha. definitely my favorite race memory

Not my race but I saw an amazing race. It was a state qualifying meet about 8 or so years back. There was a senior in the race who was pretty good in small meets, about an 18:00 5k runner. Anyway the gun went off and I saw this kid sprint out to the front of the race with the leaders who were all high 15/low 16 guys. I saw the kid again at the 1 mile mark and he was still with the leaders, looking like he was hanging on for dear life. Saw him again at ~1.5 mile and it was the same situation. You could tell this kid was hurting the most but he just wouldn't let go. Again at ~2.25 he was still there hovering around 5th place but in contact with the lead. Some people around me who knew all the top local guys were starting to wonder who the kid in 5th was. Went down to the finishing stretch to catch the end of the race. At this particular course there is a strip of woods about 300 meters long right before the finishing stretch where you can't see the runners. I'm at the finish waiting for the runner to emerge and to my surprise as well as the surprise of others, this kid bursts out of the woods like a bat out of hell, sprinting for dear life towards the finish. He ended up outkicking the top local guy, winning the race in 15:54 which was nearly a 2 min XC PR over his previous best of 17:48. One of the gutsiest things I've ever seen. It made me very proud to be that kid's father.

Unleashed a kick to win a t-shirt race. Finish was on a track, so felt like winning the olympics. About 400 meters before the finish I felt like I had no shot at him (had been chasing and not gaining for miles).

New Jersey Senior Olympics 50-54 AG 100m dash. Came 5th in the second heat beating the only other guy in my age group by 2/100s of a second.

To Author A coach and dad: Great story. My father has one much like yours (I was the runner). HS Junior year track 1,500m districts. I was seeded 14th based upon pr's. About twelve seconds behind the top guys. My coach didn't even want me to run because I was at that time better in the 3k. At any rate I ended up running because my father talked the coach into letting me. Dad had me super psyched because I was the underdog and I had nothing to loose. I executed the plan my father came up with perfectly, 3rd place through the 1st lap, lead the second lap (figured with my endurance I could keep the pace honest and make the others hurt), go back to 3rd on the 3rd lap and then see what happens on the last lap. Like I said, everything went to plan through 3 laps. On the bell lap the defending district champ took off with 300 to go and got about 20 meters away from me and another guy. Looked like the race was over and I would hobble in for 3rd to 8th place. But for some odd reason with 150 to go I had a massive surge of energy. I wasn't known as a kicker but this race was my "coming out party". I hit a dead sprint with 150 to go, passed the defending champ at 70 to go and won by 4 seconds. My first major victory in any race and a ten second pr in the 1,500m. I closed the last 400 in 58.x seconds when my pr in the open 400 was 57. My father was in tears at the finish line.

Newspaper interviewed me after and asked "who are you and where did you come from?"

Senior year we realized I wasn't a 3k guy but rather an 800/1,500 and had tons of success on the state level albeit not to the standards of LRC as my pr was only a bit under 4:00.

5k road race called the "mayor's cup" race and the fastest resident gets invited to a city council meeting to meet the mayor and presented with the "mayors cup" trophy and the title of fastest resident. Road races like these are silly but usually a lot of fun. No cash prizes, just bragging rights.

Me: 25, out of college, work full time, and had only been running 20-30mpw to stay in shape. A track time trial indicated I was in around 17:00 shape and the previous years' race results showed I needed to be in 16's/15's shape to win. So I dedicated myself to this race for the next 10 weeks and ramped up training.

It's a city of 75k population and about 1200 showed up to the race, mostly non-contenders in costumes, brand new shoes, ipods, etc but also included the HS teams and some college runners home for break, plus a few local guys like me. The last year's winner showed up to defend his title; I did my research on him and he was currently a top D1 miler.

A quick start and D1 was way out in the lead, followed by a chase group of 5, including me. There was a lot of wind so the pack formed tight. By mile 1 I could tell my breathing was much better than the others in the chase, and they started dropping like flies. Soon it was just me and D1 about 20 seconds ahead.

I felt good and continued gaining ground. At mile 2, I had caught him and attempted to surge past, but he matched my efforts and we ran neck and neck. Usually by this point in a race I'd be dying, accept my place in the standings, and enter cruise mode (especially with a hard 2nd mile effort), but I kept telling myself I trained for this, I wanted to win, and wouldn't accept losing. I wanted that damn Cup. It was the last mile of the race and I knew I was up against a very strong miler, who probably would have a great finishing kick. I needed to somehow create distance on him BEFORE the final 100m so he couldn't sit and outkick me. That was probably his strategy.

But I felt good, and came up with a strategy of my own. I started a series of accelerations to test him. I increased the pace, he matched, and we settled. I jumped again; he matched. Each time he came back and we continued running neck and neck. But with each matching acceleration he was breathing harder and he was struggling to match my third attack. At this point with 400m to go, his breathing was completely maxed and I could tell he was giving it his all and would be unable to match a final, all-out attack. I monitored his body language for the moment when he switched to recovery mode from the previous attack, and then blasted off in an all-out 100% final acceleration. The D1 miler couldn't match, and I maintained it through to the finish.

D1 broke and threw up at the finish line. I ended up breaking 16 and won by 20 seconds. 9 times out of 10 he would probably beat me, but it was the perfect strategy and execution, along with getting over the mental barrier of just accepting my place, that made it my most cherished victory ever. And it was only a silly road race.

Love these stories, guys. I have another one, from an older runner's perspective. First a quote, and then the story:

“I'm going to go out a winner if I have to find a high school race to win my last race.”

– Johnny Gray, U.S. record holder in the 800 meters.

Glory Days

Scanning the crowd, I evaluate the competition. I may not be young and fast anymore, but I still have the eye of a competitive runner. Like an experienced boxing trainer, once you've got that runner's eye, you never lose it. Today’s race is a 5K in Kaysville, Utah, home of Davis High School, long-ago Alma Mater of Pinto and Neumann, my old high school rivals. Near the starting line I see a group of young men wearing gold and brown Davis High School Cross Country shirts. It looks like maybe the whole team is here. Vivid memories of Pinto and Neumann immediately come to mind. Wouldn't it be something if they showed up today? Would they look older and run slower just like me? Would they be pudgy, middle-aged guys, or would they be the same lean, efficient running machines I remember? But no, they're not here today.

I know I'm not very fast, but I'm up to 40 miles a week now, and I'm in better shape than I've been in 16 years. Time flies, and like most people I've wasted so much of it.

I was surprised to find that the starter for this race is my old boss at an aerospace company. I haven't seen him in seven or eight years. I couldn't stand this guy when I worked for him, but a few minutes ago we smiled and shook hands like we were old friends. Time has a funny way of rounding off the rough edges.

My old boss calls everyone to the starting line. Because he has no starting gun, he simply calls out the commands with a megaphone: “Runners take your marks . . . get set . . . GO!”

I jump off the line and immediately set a good pace to avoid being passed and surrounded by over-eager but less fit “fun” runners, and soon it's just me and a few Davis High School runners in the lead group. As we run through the first mile, I listen to their breathing. Out of the corner of my eye I gauge each one's form and stride. In some I sense eager but wasted motion. In others, I sense smoother efficiency. I try to sense what they're feeling. I try to quiet my breathing and appear as though I'm taking it easy. I want to appear like I'm just floating along. I have to put on a good show, hoping to intimidate them. I want them to feel inferior, even if it isn't so. I may no longer be young, and I'm certainly less energetic than these high schoolers, but I intend to give it all I’ve got today. I remember the words of Steve Prefontaine: “Someone may beat me, but they'll to have to bleed to do it.” I want to be Steve Prefontaine today.

I settle into my own pace, letting a couple of these young runners get a five-yard gap on me. I don't want to push them too hard because the best might just take off and leave me in his dust. As Coach told me long ago, I now tell myself: “Remember, run your race.” In my heart, I'm not a man now circling the vortex of middle age, who just recently began running again after more than a decade off. I'm the young, speedy college freshman I was long ago. And while I'm no “spring chicken,” who says I can't be a wily rooster who's been around the barnyard a few times?

I settle into my own pace, and wait to see what happens.

Much to my surprise, after a mile and a half I'm still with the leaders. Even more surprising, after two miles, it's just me and the two best high school runners. And then, at two and a quarter miles it suddenly happens: I have the lead, and I'm opening a gap. My competition is beginning to strain. I revel in their discomfort. And the gap grows . . . and grows. With less than a half mile to go, I'm 30 yards ahead and still pulling away! I am elated. I begin an extended kick and feel surprisingly fresh. As every competitive runner knows, when you're losing it's always exhausting, but when you know you've got it won, everything is suddenly easy.

I cruise to the finish line, thoroughly enjoying the applause of the small crowd as I cross the tape. My old boss greets me with a big smile, shakes my hand, and says I “smashed the course record.” Sure, I know this course has only been run a few years and the competition is mediocre, but what the hell. Right now, it's good enough for me. Today I beat a high school cross country team, just like I did so many years ago. It's not the Olympics I once dreamed about, but it still feels great for an “old” guy. When my former boss hands me the first-place medal and the small crowd applauds, I feel like singing Bruce Springsteen's “Glory Days.” After all these years, I'm back where I belong: I feel like a real runner again.

Here's a "hobby jogger" story.

I started running in 2009 at age 35, after losing 110 pounds. In the fall of 2010, I set "PRs" in 5k (18:50), 10k (39:20), and half marathon (1:27). I was never in contention for a win during those races, so I have always just run for "PRs."

Over winter 2010 and into spring 2011, my training was better than it had ever been. More miles, faster over all pace.

So a week after my 37th birthday, I entered a 5k with high expectations to better my 18:50 pr. It was April in the midwest, and unsurprisingly it was quite chilly and very windy. There were about 500 people in the 5k.

The course was an out and back, north to south. The wind was from the south, so we'd be starting with a headwind. Oh, my son was running the race too, he was 13 at the time. Off we go, and immediately I find myself in the lead. It was an odd feeling as I'd never led a race. I kept expecting some of the thinner, fitter looking guys to blow past me at any moment.

At the one mile mark, I see I only ran 6:10, and that PRing would only be possible if I was able to "ride the wind" on the way back. The next 0.55 miles to the turn around proved to put a nail in that, as I was barely able to maintain 6:10 pace and I knew that there was no way I was going to speed up, wind or no.

I run around the cone at the turn around, and see that I have a substantial lead, at least 20 seconds on the second place guy, and then about 5 more seconds behind him is my son, in third.

I decided then I'd try to win the race instead of chasing an increasingly unlikely PR. I eased up a bit, trying to gather myself should the guy behind me catch up.

Approximately half a mile to go, the 2nd place guy catches up to me, and tries to run on by. I match his pace and stay on his shoulder, and I find that it is an easy pace. He speeds up a little more, I match him. Again he speeds up, and I match it.

Up ahead I can see a sewer cover, and then maybe 200 meters to the finish. I mentally make note and decide that when I get to the sewer cover, I'm going to kick as hard as I can and see what happens.

The point arrives, and I take off as if I'm in a 100 meter race. I really could not have mustered any more speed. I knew I couldn't maintain it all the way, but my hope was to at least get a good enough gap that the other guy "gives up a little." This is exactly what happened.

I opened a gap immediately, and I could hear give a gasp or a sigh, and I hold my form well enough to cross the line first, putting several seconds into the guy.

I finished in 19:59, surely one of the slowest times to ever win a 5k. My son was third. That was kind of neat.

The next week I ran a 5 mile trail race at a faster pace, and almost won that one. I lost in the last 200m there.

you won by 20s but were neck and neck with 400 to go? this whole story is obviously BS

Not BS. The 2nd place guy actually stopped to throw up.

crete wrote:

you won by 20s but were neck and neck with 400 to go? this whole story is obviously BS

My greatest victory was in the High Jump, not running !

1964 Duke-North Carolina dual meet. UNC's Tom Clark was the best in the ACC; he had not lost in ACC competition in 3 years. But this day, he had a bad day, and I had my best ever day. I won on fewer misses at 6'5 1/8". Don't laugh, this was in Straddle days off of dirt, and that was a Duke school record and a PR for me.

So senior year in high school, I was one of the two best milers on the team (we both ran 4:52, and yes I'm aware it's unimpressive), as well as the 2nd best 400 guy (but the first guy was constantly absent/injured, and we were both relatively terrible). I also generally anchored the 4x400 team (again, I cannot emphasize enough how terrible my team was). On the day, we were competing against a neighboring school that was even worse, and shockingly bad at distance.

So the other miler and I decided to try to break 4:50 by taking turns pacing. Considering it was hotter than usual, when I accidentally led us through the first lap in 66/67, our goose was cooked, but we valiantly fought our way to a 4:54.

Subsequently, the coach entered me in the 200, instead the 400, and I have no speed, plus I had that hard mile in my legs - end result, 4th place finish, 26.x (?!), and crucially for this story, no points.

Perhaps as the result of my amazing performance in the 200, we ended up being tied going into the relays.

I don't recall how big our lead going into my (anchor) leg was, but it was probably substantial. Anyway, I get the button, and a guy on my team I am now convinced has ADD starts screaming "he's right on you! he's right on you!" At this point, my adrenaline feels less like it's coming not from the will to win, than from some survival instinct. I gun it like my life is dependent on it, and on the final straightaway squeeze absolute everything out of my tiny legs. Meanwhile, the ADD guy keeps screaming "he's right on you! he's right on you!". Finally, I cross the finish line, and look around. The other team's anchor is just rounding the final bend.

I've only won one road race, a 5k where I beat a former olympic trials qualifier. My victory came from the fact that it was a dog jog, where you ran with your pet, and his basset hound was no match for my weimaraner. Also, too, his qualifier was 20 years previous and he was pushing 50.

I still wonder what made him think it was a good idea to drag the poor beast through that race.