It's hammer time. Tell me your stories.
It's hammer time. Tell me your stories.
I'm a construction worker and was doing a simple job (small, single-story farm house in a rural area). I asked my crew to bring back some lunch for me, as I was on a ladder working on the fenestration up front. They scoffed and said I'd have to get lunch for myself: so, I dropped a hammer on them from about 12 feet up. Sick stuff, man.
Fall 2007. It was my freshman year of college, and we were doing our first XC workout of the year - 5 (4 for me) x mile on the course. Being a cocky little prick, eager to make my mark on all the guys on the team, I took off in the first one. I finished in 4:43, 10 seconds ahead of our #1 guy. All the guys look at me and a couple called me an @sshole. Then, the coach announced that since we had a "workout hero" present, 4:43 would be the new standard for the workout. Those who didn't hit the mark would be punished severly the next day with 'football drills.' Exhausted from my initial effort, I only managed a 5:03, 5:17, and a 5:56 for the next 3. Most of the team ended up having to do painful football drills the next day because of me "dropping the hammer" on them in the first interval.
Everyone hated me for my entire freshman year. I ended up transferring.
Well, I wasn't counted out. In fact, based on what happened, I'd say my rivals counted on me being competitive:
High school, senior year, District championship 1600m race. Two guys from another school, one of my team mates, and I were really the favored four. The rest were also-rans. One of the two guys from the other school, against whom I had many good races, looked at me on the start line and said, "you know I will win this, right?"
The two guys from other school apparently had all their team mates in on the gig. They got out fast in the first 200, formed a bit of a wall/box and then slowed it up after 400. I stupidly got trapped behind it, but I wasn't going to go out like some fool. Well, the two real players from that school got on through the melee, while their three chump team mates boxed me in, threw elbows, and tried to push me inside the rail on the curve. Meanwhile, the two were gapping the rest of us.
I dealt with the BS from 400 to about 600m, then laid back from them on the curve. On the front straight, I moved out to about lane 4 to get around them. Most of them were already tying up by this point anyway, having gone out way too fast for themselves (but "too slow" for me). As mentioned, they were chumps. At 800, I could see the other two were a few meters apart, and the back one was 10 or so meters ahead of me. I reeled him in over the next 150 or so, passing him on the back straight. I rode right up behind the leader on the curve, then got just up on his right shoulder on the straight. He did not want me to pass so he surged. I knew I just had to be in front when we hit that curve with under 400 to go.
So, I DROPPED THE HAMMER! I won by almost 4 seconds.
[Yes, I know I just recounted a 20 year old story from ***high school***, but it was awesome]
My sophomore year of high school, in the conference championship 3200. I hadn't had a very good year, and several of the guys from our arch rival had run a good bit faster than me. The race went out sort of slow, with me in fourth or fifth place. At the top of the back straightaway on the third lap, impatient with the (in my mind) lackadaisical tempo, I stepped out and took the lead. The coach from the other team ran up right to the edge of the track and yelled to his number one guy, "Billy, don't let The MonBRO Doctrine steal it!!!" I looked at him, threw my hands up in the air in mock exasperation and yelled, "Steal it?!!"
It would be funnier if I lost after that, but I put a good 50-75 yards on the field and won easily.
Senior year of high school at the conference championships, there were 4 people in it really. Me, two guys from one school who were also seniors and an upstart freshman from a different school who was coming along nicely. The meet had been delayed after the mile for 2 hours so even though I was doubling I was fresh as could be.
The rain returned right before the race started but no lightning, by this time it was dark so the lights came on. Race goes off at a decent clip and I am sitting in 4th and we are just rolling off 75's for the first two laps.everybody is just looking at each other and on the backstretch of the 4th lap I jump outside and move to the lead.
Looking back it was to bold to be smart, A friend clocked me from when I made the move around the track and I ran a 64 but everybody followed and it turned into a death march. finially by 600 to go I dropped the last guy and won by 7-8 seconds.
One Thanksgiving Day 10K when I was training as a serious miler.
I wound up taking the lead a little before the one mile mark.
This one guy guy went directly behind me.
All the way to the 6 mile mark he followed right behind me and covered every surge.
I eased up right at the 6 mile mark to see what he had.
He bit and made a hard move, passed me and was driving for home.
I watched him for 5 seconds and then I DROPPED THE HAMMER on him and blasted the next 200m leaving him in my wake and then cruised to the finish line.
Picked up 300 bucks, too, for the win.
This was also ~20 years ago and in high school. Also keep in mind that I was an 11ish minute 2-miler, so this is definitely not all that glorious, but it's still one of my favorite racing memories.
Despite my slow times, they were still good enough for my area that I won a fair number of 2-milers at our dual meets my senior year. However, I did not hold out much hope of winning when we were matched up against the best team in our league.
I did luck out in that their best runners did not do track that year (I think they did tennis instead for some reason). Also, I was only running the 2-mile while the 2 guys I was running against had both run the mile earlier in the meet.
I pretty much ran my usual pace and the 2 guys just stuck to me the whole race, complaining to each other the whole time about how slow we were going.
Then, with 2 laps to go, I really started to pick up the pace. Pretty soon, the faster of the two, with a somewhat panicked look, turned to the other guy and said, "you're going to have to take him."
He really should not have said that... that was all I needed to hear and I was able to drop both of them on the last lap. It felt so good to shake their hands after the race, when they were clearly dejected that I had somehow been able to beat them.... ahh the glory days of a mediocre high school runner...
Every day I dropeth thine hammer.
The Stache wrote:
...
So, I DROPPED THE HAMMER! I won by almost 4 seconds...
toro wrote:
...
I watched him for 5 seconds and then I DROPPED THE HAMMER on him ....
Thanks, toro, for following suit.
Let's keep this meme going here, folks. We don't want to hear stories about how you pulled away from someone. We want to know about a time when you DROPPED THE HAMMER on 'em!!!!!
D'oh! Sorry to spoil the meme...
...and you better believe, I DROPPED THE HAMMER on those chumps!
It was my senior year of high school in the very first meet of the season. I was pretty stoked because I was getting to run against a local kid that had done real well in the biggest classification that past xc season.
Dude was a robot hitting 75's like clockwork, it was unreal. 75....2:30....etc....anyways, coach yells "one move, don't look back"...so eagerly I wait until I DROPPED THE HAMMER at the 250 mark. Not sure I've ever ran a quicker 200 hahaha.
If I remember right I ran 9:48...because I think I ran the last lap in 63...Not sure, my math sucks but regardless I had never bitch kicked anyone before. I was probably a 55-56 quarter guy AT BEST.
I ended up running the same kid down in a giant invite later on in the year. I think I ran 9:28 to his 9:29. He looked over just like "wtf".
To be fair the kid was younger than I and went on to be a much better high school and college runner than I ever was. But that one time I DROPPED THE HAMMER was the easiest and most fun race ever. Home track, at night, lights on...priceless I tell ya.
Ran into him on the trails during a college break once and we had a pretty good laugh about both races.
It was my sophomore year. At the time my fastest 800 was a 2:07. This usually being a slower meet we ran the 4x800 with only two of our 800 guys, a senior, me, and some JV guys who ran 2:25 or so. I was anchoring. My older brother who isn't a runner came to watch me, but thought I was terrible at the time because I'd been lucky enough to race terribly at all the meets he had come to previously.
After an awful 4x8 where I ran 2:15 for 3rd I figured that this was going to go like normal. I suck, brother tells me I'll get them next time, he thinks I'm a wimp.
Feeling like crap I go back to the bus to sleep before my open 8. Hoping for a miracle. I wake up feeling just as crappy and walk out to my coach on the infield to tell him I want to scratch, but before I get there he says "You should be warming up." I keep walking, "Like running, get going now!" "Am I really going to do this? You saw that 4x8, I haven't run that slow since I was a freshman, and even then that would be slow." He just looks me in the eye and says "It isn't an option. Now warm up or I'm going to be seriously pissed at you if you don't give this your best shot." I mumble some mean things and warm up.
At check in I look over the guy's shoulder and see 2:04, 2:06, and 2:02 seed times and go white with fear. "This is going to be a massacre!" I think to myself.
At the gun we go out slow, hitting the first 200 in 31 and I'm in second behind the 2:02 guy thinking, "Your damn right I'll give this my best shot!" I didn't want to give him a reason to be pissed off at me. at 300 I start to get past by 2 guys, probably the other two fast seed times. I figure I'll hang onto their tails at least till the first lap is over.
Just as we hit the bell one of these idiots cuts in front of me and I have to slow down and cut to the outside in order to not trip. I was pissed and just decided, "What the hell, if they are going to be as*holes then I'm going to go down swinging. I'm going to make this hurt." at 500 I creep up into third and let out a snot rocket before accelerating into the lead. I didn't realize it at the time but I gapped them quicker than you could say, "Kick!"
The last 150 was agony but I held on to the win in 2:02 after a late charge from the 2:02 guy. It was the happiest I felt about a race for a long while. They counted me out and it blew up in their faces!
Good, good. But did you DROP THE HAMMER!?
BOOMM, can you please address this?
first year of college, i got my ass handed to me day in and day out by everyone on our team in practice. i was good in high school, but didnt really train much, so i wasnt ready for college training at all. i finished last in every workout. then at our first two races, i finished 5th on the team. only people who beat me were juniors and seniors. boo yeah. i showed up and dropped the hammer when it counted.
I'm a construction worker and was doing a simple job (small, single-story farm house in a rural area). I asked my crew to bring back some lunch for me, as I was on a ladder working on the fenestration up front. They scoffed and said I'd have to get lunch for myself: so, I dropped a hammer on them from about 12 feet up. Sick stuff, man.
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Really, why even bother going further with this dumb*ss topic when you get a perfect response like this.
Gotta know when to fold 'em.
I'm liking this thread. Let's hear more of your DROPPED THE HAMMER stories. Extra points if in the "DTH" tag line you use the word "chump" (or "chumps" as the case may be).
fall sophomore year of college, two high school friends challenged me to an 800 throwdown. one was like a 2:03 guy, the other 2:10, i never ran the 8 so i was counted out. the 2:03 guy was out of shape, the 2:10 guy was struggling with some injuries, i was in like 17:30 5k shape trying to get faster for track but was just doing 'base.' (we all went to podunk d3 schools where our times were actually okay)
two weeks before i pulled a hamstring... it healed pretty quickly though. the day before i ran a 17:3x 5k, which was good for me at the time, but it was the day before and i was tired.
anyways we went to the track near my friends house, it was cold and snowing but the track was pretty clear, and we didn't really feel like warming up, just get right too it. we didn't spike up or anything. we took off and i was just not feeling it at all. i had never raced 800 before and it just felt way too fast. at the lap i was behind both of them in like 71. I wish I could say I was just 'sitting and kicking,' but I legitimately did not want to go any faster.
we got to the curve, 350 to go, and i pass the 2:03 out of shape kid. he might have still had speed but he couldn't carry through an 800 anymore and dropped hard. i slowly made up the gap between my other friend, where i thought "eh, second place, i'll take it i suppose."
i caught up and got right by him, then all of a sudden felt really good, so with 200 to go i DROPPED THE HAMMER!!!!, passed him, gapped him, crossed the finish line and dove into the snow and did snow angels like a touchdown celebration. it was a big negative split, like 3-4 seconds faster for the second lap. that's what happens when a distance runner runs an 800 in the cold without warming up i guess.
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