A few years ago, I was running in a big 10k and planned to run high 34s. I was a sub 30 guy in college (barely) but you know what happens as you get older... Anyway, as I am passing the 4-Mile mark, I notice these two young guys roll past me. Both are wearing jerseys: Club Team jerseys from the college where I used to run. This is in another state. Kind of weird. I think, "No fvcking way some club team guys are going to beat me today," totally forgetting that they are probably 19-20 and I am 32 at the time (and really just running as an excuse to drink beer at 10:30 am after the race). I pick up the pace and think, "just 2 more miles" and roll back past them, not stopping at all once I regained the lead. On the final 100 meter stretch, one of the guys passes me again and I fvcking turned it to eleven and almost had a heart attack but kicked by him to save my pride and run about a minute faster than I had planned. Instead of drinking beer I went and laid in the fetal position until my wife finished and then I told her I was going back to the room because I felt sick.
Fvcking Club Team guys ruined my fun morning.
Tell a story about how you dropped the hammer on a bunch of fools when they counted you out
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So, I was running this marathon-hoping to BQ. I was about 3 miles in-and just wasn't feeling it-clicking off 11 minute miles. I stopped in a porta john and dropped a deuce, and then threw up several times.. After about 15 minutes in the can, felt a little better, but not good enough to run. I started to walk to the next aid station-but it was still a couple miles away. After my long break, I was behind even the sag wagon-n spectators were left. I called a cab on my cell phone, and remembered my wife and kids would be at the finish line. I jumped in the cab, and 2 and half hours later, yada yada yada, I dropped the hammer and qualified for Boston. I miscalculated a little-I didn't realize how long I'd turned my watch off in the porta john.
Do I get 500 bucks for confessing my sins? -
Senior year of college and we were racing a low-key (D3) meet. I was in the 3k and based on the seed times I felt I should have a pretty good chance to win. The pace was fairly easy, I think around 4:45 for the first mile, and my teammate and I exchanged the lead for the first few laps until I took over and a guy from another school was the only one who followed. At the bell, I still had quite a bit in the tank and DROPPED THE HAMMER, covering the next 200m in about 27-28 seconds as I remember checking my watch and looking back with 200m to go to see the other guy about 30 meters back. Confident that I had the race in the bag, I let up a bit as I came around the final curve and confidently gave my teammates on the sidelines a fist pump as I entered the home stretch. Well, they were yelling at me and I figured it was just because I had gapped the other guy - turns out he he had been slowly making up ground and I didn't realize it until about 10m to go when I heard him right on my heels. He almost caught me at the line, I think I won by less than half a second and I definitely felt a bit dumb in retrospect for my stupid fist pump and not focusing completely on the race until it was over. But the way I took off with a lap to go was definitely the time I remember dropping the hammer.
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A little different perspective on dropping the hammer:
It's been quite a few years but I still remember the humiliation to this day... It was national championship 10 000m, I was young 22 year old, cocky as hell, but among the top runners in my country. I thought I will get at least B qualifier for Olympics, and if the best runners push the pace, who knows, I might end up qualifying... Even my parents bothered to show up, although my dad tried to calm me down and put me in place, "run your own race, don't get too excited, etc." The coach only nodded, knowing the top two guys had life time PRs a minute better than me. I thought to myself "yeah, yeah, but they are in their thirties and participated in previous Olympics, when they were my age and 4 years older".
Anyway, the weather was perfect, still, unusually cold for early July, and pace was steady and fast, but very comfortable for me. Those two Olympians even hired pacemaker from former Soviet Union country, who was enlisted as out of competition entrant. He pulled us to 4000m mark and dropped off. They were surprised I was still with them, and after another 4 laps of two of them sharing the lead every two laps, urged me to take the lead for my share. I reluctantly took the lead for about 150m, and heard my coach yelling: "Let them do the work, they are Olympians, not you!". So I obliged and went behind them. My dad was positioned at the finish line and yelled at me to not be a dick and help with the pacing that we were on A qualifier pace, and that we could all be going. I waved my hand and made some cocky gestures that I would get them, when my time comes. Then at around 8000m, the faster of two older and better runners started to throw surges - 28s-29s 200m, 38s 200m, and again. I felt awesome, so I even let out some chuckles during the trots, just to let them know that the miler is getting ready to drop the hammer on them. At 9200m, the other guy cracked and we gapped him. I made a decision to go 200m later, just to show them that I can make a 600m sustained finish. So I went, immediately dropping the surging guy and having a 4-5s lad at the bell. I had glanced at clock and seen that I just needed to run under 66s to qualify. Easy... or so I thought. My 200 from 9400 to 9600 was around 28s, and I planned to hold it. But the surging, and PR pace got to me just after I entered back stretch. At 200m to go, I was all tied up and almost fell when the surging guy (at that time also sub 2:10 marathoner) brushed my right shoulder as he passed me at seemingly twice my speed. 80m to go, the second Olympian passed me. I ended up running 43s last 200m, and missed qualifying by 7s. The first guy qualified, the second just barely missed it.
I ran a huge PR, and even though I tried many times, I had never improved it in the following decade.
I received all kinds of consolations after the race, but I knew I threw away my chances for my cockiness and idiocy. -
This one time, like there were these fools who thought they could beat me. And I like totally dropped the hammer on them!
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Holy Hell......I can't believe I read through 8 pages of a bunch of high school runners wet dreams about dropping the hammer while running an 11 minute 2 mile race.
That is 15 minutes wasted minutes of my life I will never get back. -
Holy Hell wrote:
Holy Hell......I can't believe I read through 8 pages of a bunch of high school runners wet dreams about dropping the hammer while running an 11 minute 2 mile race.
That is 15 minutes wasted minutes of my life I will never get back.
Don't blame others for your own stupidity. -
Holy Hell wrote:
Holy Hell......I can't believe I read through 8 pages of a bunch of high school runners wet dreams about dropping the hammer while running an 11 minute 2 mile race.
That is 15 minutes wasted minutes of my life I will never get back.
Ok. I'll come up with a good one for you. -
Not true, Holy Hell, this is about a sub-11 minute 2 mile high school race:
Sophomore year in HS, I had gotten down to 4:55 / 10:40 by April. Our district qualifying time was something like 10:30 or 10:35 so I was close. I knew that in one week I would be running just the 3200, no other races, so I could focus just on that. I had never before nor since prepared mentally for a race. I figured I could run mid 10:20s if everything went right.
We had a freshman on our team who had beaten me in every race we had ever run. He was a fool and a chump and that everyone from our team wanted to see him go down. He didn't help matters by matter-of-factly stating that he would win and "run 10:15" or something like that. I really didn't expect to beat him - I just wanted my qualifying time.
Race day couldn't have been better - mid 60's, no wind. In my last race I had tried to finesse it and run perfectly even splits, which, of course, resulted in total disaster. This time I was determined to just get out there and race and see what happened.
The gun goes off and I immediately DROP THE HAMMER and run a 68 opening lap. I was stunned when I heard the time and figured I had ruined my race, but I felt perfectly fine. The Foolish Freshman (henceforth known as FF) caught up by the 600 meter mark and I saw the look in his eye. He was obviously flummoxed by the start, his race plan had gone awry, and he wasn't really sure how he was supposed to react.
It was one of those days where everything clicks and you live for racing. I never once got tired during the race. Conversely FF was having the opposite day, the kind where the race doesn't go according to plan, you don't feel the way you expect to, and there's someone you think you're better than who's challenging you unexpectedly. I think we've all had both days. FF led most of the way, but the opening 68 turned into a bunch of 79s and 80s. With 400 to go, I DROP THE HAMMER a second time and close with another 68, beating him by 9 seconds on the last lap, 10:10 to 10:19. BOOM!!! A DOUBLE HAMMER DROP with a 30 SECOND PR and a DEFEAT of a FOOL and a CHUMP.
Who can match that?!?! -
My junior year at our first meet I was running the 800. My PR from the previous season was 2:02. One of our 400 guys was going to try out the 800 and the 400 coach told him to go out in about 54-55 and hang on (this guy had run ~50 flat the previous season), that same coach told me that he didn't think I would be able to beat his 400 guy. The race went out relatively slow other than the guy on my team going out in 54 which was pretty fast in high school where I lived, I was pretty far behind just relaxing thinking he'd die and I could rely on a good kick. I noticed with 250 left I was about ~50 meters down as best I could tell and thought to myself "I should start going" and I began kicking, ran 26 the last 200 for a 2:01, beat my teammate pretty handily by 3 or 4 seconds. I've seen 4 pictures from the race, at 150 left, I'm still 15-20 meters down, at 100 left I'm right behind my teammate, at 50 I'm well past him and at the finish it doesn't look like it was even close. Pretty mediocre but it felt like I was flying and everyone else was standing still.
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As a 49 year old father of a sixth grader, I entered the school fundraiser 5K. Running gentle 6 minute miles, about halfway through, I found myself in the lead pack with 3 hyperventilating 6th grade boys, another middle aged man, and a 40 year old MILF who lives down the street from me. Running strategically, I tried not to get boxed in by the kids. With a half mile to go, the other old man and two of the kids fell off the pace, and one of the kids went into the lead. I decided to make my move-I dropped the hammer on that boy, and broke his prebuscent heart. I entered the stadium-thinking I'd win my first race in 30 years. And I did--at least the men's division. The neighbor lady dropped the hammer on me and passed me with 100 yards to go on the track! Chicked the field.
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I'm in my mid-40s, back to serious running for almost 2 years, and the biggest local race is coming up. I'm in a 5K with 600 other people. I've got a recent 5K time of around 18:00, which I know from past results is good enough to win some years, because 1) the local running scene isn't very competitive; and 2) the fast people got suckered into the 10K.
I look around at the start. Anybody wearing racing flats? Anybody wearing a singlet who doesn't have a beer belly? No and no. The race starts, and one guy's form looks pretty smooth...but he's wearing the race t-shirt. The first mile drops 100 feet, so by a half mile I start leaving the field behind. I pass the first mile at 5:31. I have to slow down once the uphill starts after that, but at that point the rest of the field is nowhere to be seen.
Somewhere behind me, a smirking college student has a brilliant race strategy: hang back at the start, then move up to the front and sit on the leader, and then run by him for the win. Only by the time he executes that strategy, he can't see me anymore. The smirking college student sits on the 2nd place runner, cruises past him with 800 to go, and struts across the finish line - where no one notices him. I had already come in first, over a minute ahead of him. I DROPPED THE HAMMER on him in the first mile of the race, and he didn't even realize it for another two miles. -
I was racing against a stacked field: the reigning world champ, the previous OG gold medalist, and a couple of Kenyans who had dropped insane times earlier that year. The race went out slow and I stayed patient until the last 500 meters. Then I almost got passed by this scrub named Souleiman or something and I dropped the hammer on him, cruising to victory and to legend status.
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Kid from Maryland wrote:
I was racing against a stacked field: the reigning world champ, the previous OG gold medalist, and a couple of Kenyans who had dropped insane times earlier that year. The race went out slow and I stayed patient until the last 500 meters. Then I almost got passed by this scrub named Souleiman or something and I dropped the hammer on him, cruising to victory and to legend status.
if that was centro posting ill be good forever -
This thread is over
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I have drunk the bitter cup wrote:
This thread is over
That was brilliant. -
Smarter than I once was wrote:
Everyone hated me for my entire freshman year. I ended up transferring.
That’s terrible.
