I got creamed in the AAU national marathon, finishing behind some women as well as a guy I'd run most of the way with, who beat me by a couple of seconds when he and I sprinted the final lap in the stadium.
Eight days later I ran a local seven-mile road race. Between the marathon and this race I'd taken a couple of college final exams, pulled an all-nighter or two to write a final paper, and generally recovered very poorly. Which showed.
So I'm running this seven-miler--two laps through the town--and, despite my usual conservative start, on the second lap everyone is going by me. I had to have had a mile in there that was over seven minutes. Pathetic.
With maybe a mile left, these three old guys come by me, one after the other. One or two of them were probably twice my age, at least! (I'd just finished my junior year, so I'd turned 20 the month before.) I'm sure they just thought that I was cooked--they were only looking ahead, trying to pass more guys. It was really embarrassing.
I struggled to keep within 50 yards of them, and remembered that we crossed a bridge about a quarter-mile from the town's main street, where the race started and ended. I made up my mind that, regardless of how I felt, I'd at least *try* to mount a finish when I got to that bridge--no matter what.
When I reached the bridge I still felt like death, but I DROPPED THE HAMMER anyway and instantly blew by one of the old farts, who was in survival mode. The second guy was tougher, but I got by him eventually and with about 150 yards to go I was pulling up on the last one.
This last guy was maybe the oldest of the bunch, but was sprinting like a demon and it was one of those "step by step, inch by inch" things--he just would not quit. I finally dragged myself past him and hit the finish line a half-step ahead.
It was a terrible race overall, but I learned that, even if you feel completely like sh!t, you can still DROP THE HAMMER--a lesson I applied in some future races.
I got creamed in the AAU national marathon, finishing behind some women as well as a guy I'd run most of the way with, who beat me by a couple of seconds when he and I sprinted the final lap in the stadium.
So a few weeks ago i begged coach to let me run a JV meet as a workout. I won the 200 easily in 23.1. ran the 3200 and sat n kicked to a 10:39. ran the 4x400 and split 52 but the reall hammer dropping came in the open 8. They put me as a NT seed so i was in the slow heat(of the JV meet) i chilled in 7th er so till the bell(68 sec first lap) then i popped into 1st between 400-500 with a 13 sec 200 then relaxed till 150 left and took off to win with a 2:07...2nd place wa a 2:19. I whooped thoses chumps candy a**es
Imagine if all varsity guys occasionally ran JV meets as workouts. No JV runners would ever get to win and the varsity runners would just soak up the glory on a short tempo run. It's a "JV" meet for a reason.
Say what you want, I'm damned impressed by this guy's "13 sec 200."
Senior year, dual meet. I was tired from running a 2:05 leadoff leg of the 4x8 25 min before and I wanted to run a fast 3200 time 45min after the 1600, so I wanted to take it easy(ish).
Gun goes off and I set the pace hitting about 68,72,70. Then on the last lap two guys who would normally be about 5-8 sec behind me are right with me. They pass me on the backstretch so i tuck in behind them. We hit 100m left, I swing out into lane 3 to go around both of them, AND I DROP THE [email protected][email protected][email protected] I tear through the last 100 so fast I beat the 2nd place guy by 3.8 seconds and finish with a 4:31, 9 seconds faster than I wanted to go. 62.high last lap, 27.high last 200.
Back in 96 I had just won the biggest 100m race of my life and was relaxing when I heard some fools mention the guy who won the 200 was talking smack about being the fastest man alive.I thought to myself whatever then I saw him pimping himself on talk shows as the fastest man in the world and got pissed so I challenged him to a race.Well he ducked me for almost a year and then finaly we raced.It was a 150m and I got stuck on the inside lane but it would not matter because when the race started I dropped the hammer and baily 20m into the race I made up the stager.After I past him like he was standing still i did not see or hear him.By he end of the race I was so far ahead I stopped at the finish line and waved to him as he was pretending he was injured.Then I pulled out my johnson and yelled gobble gobble mother falkers.
I was in a 5K, cruising along, until the last half-mile. I saw two guys running even about 50m ahead, and I knew they didn't know I was there, each too focused on the other to notice me. They probably thought they were all alone. So I worked my way forward, trying not to make any noise, and when we hit the incline 200m before the finish, I DROPPED THE HAMMER on them and blew past them like they were standing still. Ended up taking second overall.
Some scrubs thought they could drop me in this 10K today but I just hung with every move while toying with the other runners. It was down to 3 of us with 1100 to go when one started a long drive to the finish. I hung with him till 300 to go when he got passed by this kenyan. I sat on the kenyan until 200 to go when I passed him. I looked back to see how he was feeling, then straight blasted him over the last 120. They never stood a chance.
Cross-country season was a bust as I was in a district with arguably the top 2 long-distance teams in the state. Our district alone had at least 4-5 of the state's top 12 runners, and I was a notch behind those guys. My chances of getting past districts were pretty dim.
So for the track season I decided not to care - it was my senior year anyway - I'll just blow off the season. I skipped practices, didn't bother to hit my times during workouts. We even occasionally brought out a football on our morning run and played touch football instead of the daily 4 miler.
1st meet. Both powerhouse schools at the meet. 1600M. Gun goes off, and there I was behind a sea of Blue/White and Red/Green runners. I decided for fun to stick my nose in the lead pack - and for some reason, it felt slow. 65 second first lap - holy crap - that's not possible. The second and third laps - same easy, floating effort continued. All kinds of people fell off the lead pack, and we were down to a pack of 5. I was in 3rd position on the outside. Final lap starts, the freshman phenom from one of the teams takes off - me and the senior stud from the other team track him down on the back straight away and pass him before the final curve. All this time, I'm thinking - what the hell am I doing here? I am on the heels of the guy who placed 5th at the state cross-country meet. Anyway, we start our kicks on the curve, and we go toe-to-toe down the stretch. Everything turned into a blur and the people in the stands were screaming (for the stud). For a split second, I even thought, well maybe this is good enough...but then I thought F!ck it - F!ck him - F!ck the people in the stand - I'm going to F!cking win this. I finally DROP THE HAMMER and take him out the final few steps. My coach, the other team's coaches, and me included were totally shocked. As I was laid out on the infield, I could hear people murmuring, who is this guy? Yep, those were the glory days.
So I was running a 5000 the other day in front of my home crowd. I had the fastest time in the field coming in but the favorite was this guy that had beaten me the last 13 times we raced.
So the gun goes off and nobody wants to lead, some dbag kept on shoving me and clippin my heels and I finally had to turn around and yell at him to cut that crap out. On top of that the favorite's little kid somehow snuck onto the track and was yelling "go daddy go!!!" every lap as we came around. Finally, with a lap to go I took off and built a small lead, but the other runner was right on my shoulder. He took the lead as we entered the homestretch and everyone thought he had the race won, but then I DROPPED THE MF HAMMER and blew by him on the inside for the win!
Back in high school, I was a first year runner in track. There were two weasly types on our team that had been running since they were freshmen and thought they were the cat's meow of distance running. It was an early season meet, and we were all running the mile. Just after the start on the first curve, I was running mid pack when one of the weasels stepped on the back of my shoe causing it to come half way off. I had to stop, untie the laces, pull it on and retie it. When I stopped I heard one of the weasels give the "Nelson" laugh back at me.
Once I got the shoe back on, the pack was already 20 meters ahead of me. I started back up and ran hard to get back to the pack just to avoid the embarrassment of being in last place. As I caught back up I saw the weasels ahead of me and chased them down by the gun lap, and feeling still quite a bit peeved at them, I just started sprinting as hard as I could to rub it in. Ran like a 58 second last lap.
It ended up being a big confidence boost for me, as I suddenly went from being a middling nobody to one of the best runners in the state. Ended up getting the bronze in the 1600 at state that year.
I'm a 200/400 guy who got pulled into a 4x800 relay. I had no idea of pace, just knew that I had to stay within striking distance and then hopefully I could kick past everyone. I was 2nd leg. Our lead off guy gave us a 5 meter lead which I promptly lost as I had no idea how to lead the race, but I settled in about 10 meters off the first 3 runners (all bunched together). I was suffering like crazy but at about 150 meters to go I DROPPED THE FREAKIN' HAMMER on them by summoning up every last drop of gas I had in my tank. Don't forget, I can sprint. I handed off to our third runner with a 10m lead...I made up 20m in less than 150 meters. Damn near killed me. We ended up winning the relay. I was totally proud of my effort, but never ran that effin' race again.
Freshman year of high school. I had a solid freshman cross country season, improving from 20:30 to 18:30 over the course of the season. I trained hard over the winter and was in great shape at the beginning of track season.
Our very second dual meet I was put into the two mile. We were getting crushed so my coach had it set up to help me and my teammate PR. We had a faster teammate set to pace us to run 11:00. We go off and two guys from the other school bolt out to a huge lead. Like clockwork, 82/83 laps. We come through the mile all three of us together in 5:28. At that point the faster guy takes off to try and catch the other two runners, leaving me and my teammate to keep the pace. We were both feeling good so we picked it up. By 800 to go we had caught one of the runners and moved into 3rd / 4th place. Our guy had taken the lead and the other teams other runner was about 50m ahead. We get to 200 to go and the other guy still has 30 meters and I realize i feel GREAT. That's when i DROP THE HAMMER and sprint for my life. I come around the curve and have my eyes locked on the chump with the entire crowd going NUTS. I get on his shoulder with 10m to go and out lean him to win by .10 seconds. Ran a 10:46 and it was one of the greatest racing memories I have.
People were laughing at me. They laughed at me!
So, when the time was right, I waited. They approached. I crept out to the ledge above the door. I dropped a 2 lb. sledge right on the leader's shoulder.
Summer training in my college town while running for a good D1 school. It's in the midwest and it's a hot day. For some reason I didn't get my run in early and head to a local "rails to trails" trail for an out and back run. Actually you had to run a bit from where I parked to get to the trailhead. Anyway, I hit halfway on the run and turn around. I get within a couple of miles of the end of the run and it is hot (and I mean hot) and I'm ready to finish the run.
The trail actually goes through a short tunnel at this point as a road crosses overhead. As I approach the tunnel there is a guy running on the street above. I notice that he's looking down at me and I look up, thinking maybe it's one of the guys on the team. I have no idea who the guy is, but he appears to be giving me the stink eye. Weird. I think nothing of it.
Even on our easy runs on the trail the team never got passed by anyone not on the team. So after I go through the tunnel I'm surprised to hear the stink eye guy rolling up on me. Out of pride I pick up the pace a bit. I still hear the guy; he is purposely upping his pace. I ratchet things down further despite it being the end of an easy run. I begin to get tired and hot.
I can't hear the guy for a little while. I haven't looked back nor acknowledged this guy's existence the whole time and don't want him to know that I was extended in any way. After a while longer, though, it's so hot and the pace so uncomfortable that I decide to look back to see how far back the guy is as I haven't heard him for a bit. I look back and he's a couple hundred meters back on the side of the trail, bent over with hands on his thighs and sucking wind.
I ease off the pace and realize that I am starting to feel pretty crummy because of the heat. I make it back to the trailhead but have a bit of a run to get to my car and my water. There is a Taco Bell just next to the trailhead. I go in and ask if I can have some water. The staff was shocked at my appearance and it was one of those days when it looked like someone had dumped a bucket of water over me, my tshirt was completely sweated through, etc. The employees urged me to sit down and brought me water to the table and pretty much treated me like a king. I still don't know what the "stink eye" guy's agenda was.
My junior year of high school I had run some very good workouts but had only started to put together decent races at the end of the season. I surprised the head track coach by barely making it to the 3200 in the South State division meet. Now that I was facing four or five runners with better PRs, he fully expected me NOT to qualify. He advised me "remember, we're just trying to get 4th place. Just hang in at fourth." The volunteer distance coach knew that I was in good shape and could beat those guys, but also knew me well enough to know that sitting and kicking was a recipe for failure. He told me to break on lap 5 and run the rest of the race on my own.
My teammate led the entire race, and I followed close at the back of a chase pack of four guys (one of whom would be eliminated). Head coach is saying, "looking good, looking good" without much conviction, just impressed that I have kept up after 1600m. Then right when we turn the corner after 1600m and everyone is relaxed and slowing down, I move to the outside and DROP THE HAMMER!! I dropped it for that first lap, when those guys didn't even try to follow me, and I dropped it a little more the next lap.
Head coach was puzzled, and probably thought I had given the race away, but by the time we came to the last lap and I was still in 2nd, he got super excited. I definitely was slowing down in the last 300m, and when I checked behind me, I saw that another guy had DROPPED THE HAMMER too to get away from the chase pack, but I had been too far away. He closed fast, but still finished 2 seconds behind me.
Senior year of HS we were running in an XC meet. We were about 400m from the finish, and I was just barely in front of another runner in the middle of the field. This other guy's coach is nearby on the course and yells to his runner to 'Hurry up!' and 'catch this wimp!' Hey now, what did I do? Why was I a wimp, when in fact, I was beating his runner? I felt a strange feeling that I had never felt before inside of me. All I know know is it felt like my legs had unlimited power and I cruised the last 400m to the finish, easily DROPPING THE HAMMER on the other runner. I later found out that I was basically running the last 400m on pure rage/hate.
After I finished, I got out of the finish chute and immediately went back to where the other coach was standing. I wanted to find him and tell him he should coach up his runners better. I couldn't find him though, and our #1 runner was kind enough to 'hold me back' until all the rage/hate went away after the race.
Can think of two.
Sophomore year of HS running the 800 against a neighboring school whose coach was my middle school gym teacher. Always gave me Bs (deserved). Didn't run them freshman year. They also had a really nice all-weather track while we still had cinders. I was a 2:06 800 runner at that point, and the rival school's best was a 2:04 guy. I was all fired up for this race, just to show my old gym teacher what I could do. For once, I ran a smart race and just sat on the other kid. Typical high school race, went out in 60. Slowed way down the next 200, something like 35s. With 200 to go I DROPPED THE HAMMER and smoked their guy with a blazing 31 last 200. He ended up at like 2:09. After the race I got in the face of my old gym teacher and asked him if he was going to give me a B for my race. I was stupid, he should have punched me. Always destroyed their runners after that.
Next, a 10k road race post college. I was new in town and standing on the line. This guy is doing strides off the front, and I hear the people next me joking about how he was going to win the race. Gun goes off and the guy goes out hard. I let him go and caught him just after the mile when I DROPPED THE HAMMER and hit the next few miles really hard. I cruised in at like 31:00. It was great, nobody had any idea who I was. Dude wasn't a bad runner and is a nice guy but he never came close to beating me.
My first marathon a few years ago. I go out way too hard and go through the half in about 1:14 but my legs are already really tightening up. By mile 20 I'm barely moving any more and feel like my calves are about to rip in half, but I manage to keep going. At mile 26 the first woman passes me on the left, but I don't have much left to respond. Then all of a sudden I get pissed. I didn't run this hard only to be girled in the last .2 miles, so I DROP THE HAMMER and sprint it into the finish.
I put ten seconds into her in the last hundred meters, but they shove me to the side as soon as I cross the finish line to get the finish picture for the top woman. I couldn't walk for a week but damn it felt good to beat her.
I was running the 10k on the track for the first time at my conference meet. Most people wouldn't have considered me the favorite.
We jogged for 7-8k, and then the pace started picking up as people got impatient. I knew it was a tossup if the race came down to the last lap. Someone else made a small move just before 9k and a I was the only one who immediately covered. As we crossed 9k, I saw that he was leaving space for me to pass on the inside, so I decided to take advantage of the couple meters of separation we had already gotten. I DROPPED THE HAMMER on those fools.
We were probably somewhere around 5 min mile pace at that point. I ran my next 200 meters in 31 seconds. I glanced back to see that nobody else had even tried to cover. I put almost 50 meters on the field in that first 200. My next 2 400s were 63/67 (getting tired, but my coach also told me to ease up and save it for the 5k the next day), for a final 1k of 2:41.
A few years after college I started running 5k/10k road races in my small city, which are 99% jog fests but fun to win. Mid 16's were good enough to win most races. Sometimes the local HS XC team would show up and they had one 15 min guy, but we never seemed to run the same distances at the same event. Like, I would win the 10k while this chump won the 5k, or vice versa. I'm not sure if he was avoiding me or what. But one fateful day we lined up together.
I was doing a warm up jog on the course and crossed paths with this jerkstore, making eye contact for a brief moment. We didn't say anything but we knew it was ON.
Since I knew this scumbag was in better shape than me at the time, I wanted to test his approach and took it out comfortably at the start. I guess his strategy was to follow me, since I was leading through the first 1200. This worked to my advantage a bit as I could ease the pace until this hobgoblin decided to pass. I let out a deceitful sigh as if to let him think I was mentally defeated. Then I just trailed him the next 2 miles while he counted me out, like a dingleberry that wouldn't drop when you shake on the toilet in an attempt to pinch it off.
The last 400m I decide I want to beat this chodelord, so I lowered my shoulders and DROPPED THE HAMMER closing in 4:00 pace and finishing in 16:22 with him 3 seconds behind me. The next hobbyjogger came in 2 minutes later.
He offered to shake my hand during the awards ceremony, where I was given a trophy and a pie handcrafted by a local lady baker, but I rejected his offer since he was a little high school punk chump Gaylord Focker.