My story begins at districts (the state qualifying meet) my sophomore year. I was ranked 5th coming into the 800, and top 4 got to state. I ran the race of my life, diving at the finish line in a desperate attempt to recapture the fourth place spot the I had surrendered in the final straight away. I PRed by 3 seconds, running a 2:02.7, missing out on going to state by .2 seconds. In that final 50 meters, I went from thinking I was going to state to utter and complete disappointment. I could not have run any faster, better, or smarter that day. I left it all on the track (or in the nearby trash can, wear I vomited three times after the race).
My junior year i matched my PR. Again I came into districts as the fifth seed. This time I ran one of the worst races of my life. There is no good way of putting this: I choked.
Finally, we come to my senior season. This year was different. I had been unbeaten at 800 meters. In fact, I had dominated every race I had entered, with the closest person finishing to me at least 2 seconds back. And he needed a massive kick to come that close to me at the finish. I ran 2:02.6 during the regular season, PRing by the slimmest of margins. But I still had a chip on my shoulder and something to prove.
It was the Monday before districts. One of the teachers at our school was having a discussion about which of our school records - the mile or the 800 - would last the longest. They asked my opinion, and I said, matter-of-factly, that I thought the 800 would be beaten first: I was going to get it at districts. The record was 1:56.8.
Finally, now that the back story has been set, the first time I broke 2 minutes:
It was potentially the last 800 meters of my high school career. The top 4 qualify for state, and I finally was seeded in that top group. Thanks, in no small part to graduation of a talented older class, the field was weaker this year and I was seeded second.
It was a perfect day. It was warm without being hot. The wind was blowing just enough that you had to really pay attention to even know what direction it came from. I was nervous as hell. The previous year's choke-fest, and the so-close-you-can-taste-it race from two years prior ate at the back of my mind. I tired to settle my thoughts by reminding myself that I was unbeaten on the year. I could do this!
We lined up. The race was run in alleys. As the second seed, I was placed in the third alley, inside position. The starter called us to the line: "One your marks." I wanted to die. Bang! We were off.
I've always hated the first 100 meters of a race. It just feels so unnatural. I'm a conservative starter, knowing that my strength lies in the middle of the race and that people will come back to me. But in the heat of the race, you have to continually remind yourself that they will, indeed come back. As the field moves to the cut line, I am positioned towards the back of the field. I hold my ground as people cut in, being aggressive enough not to let people cut me off, but smart enough to stay out of trouble. We reach the 200 mark. I don't hear my split, and I don't care. I look up the field. I know that in 100 meters, I will finally be comfortable, as people begin to settle in and I start to move. And this is what I do at 300 meters, I move wide, and in the next 100 meters, I pass the entire field.
"55, 56, 57." I cross the line, barely over 57 seconds, passing the top seed and leader of the field as I do. I try not to panic, not to go too hard at this point, but knowing that in the next 200 meters, I was going to secure my spot at state. We pass the 500 meter mark. To my shock, Aaron (the top seed) overtakes me once again, putting me in unfamiliar territory: for the first time this season, I was not leading after the 400 meter mark! Swiftly we move, passing the 600 meters, and again, missing the split (later I hear that it was 1:27-28).
We round the bend. Although I hadn't raced Aaron this year, he has been a 2 time state placer, and someone who I had never beaten in previous years. I come up on his shoulder, my apparent lack of intimidation as much a mask of bravado as it was sheer determination. As we round the final stretch, I go out into lane 2. And I let it rip.
Aaron and I match steps in the final straightaway. You could hear the crowd shout. They knew something special was happening. Finally, with about 40 meters to go, I get a step on Aaron. I do not relinquish. The memory of my defeat as a sophomore pushes me through the line. I know that i have Aaron beat at this point, but also know that if I let up the slightest, he will be able to come back.
We burst through the line. The pain is there, but for some reason, it doesn't hurt quite as much as it usually does. The joy of qualifying for state, of removing the monkey from my back and punching it in its sorry little face, abates what should have been total agony. I as the timer approaches me, I finally let the question of what my time is come to surface. Interestingly, my timer is none other than my old coach from my sophomore year, who moved and was actually now Aaron's coach. Though I hold no resentment toward at the time, I enjoyed the irony (I later found out that he was trash talking about me, saying that I couldn't beat Aaron, and that I wouldn't break 2). He tells me my time. "1:56...." my heart stops. Anything but a 9. Anything but a 9... "point 8." For a moment, I'm shocked. It sinks in. I had TIED the school record! Not quite what I was going for, but... I jumped in joy. I was a sub two 800 meter runner. I was going to state (I actually ended up with the fastest seed time in my class). I was the school record holder!
Epilogue: I also ended up winning the mile that day, in a tactical, medium-paced affair. At state, I end up tying up in the home stretch and coming home in third. A huge disappointment at the time, although now that it's put in perspective, something that I have come to live with. Still a little bothered knowing that I may have been able to take second place that day, but knowing that I did run well and accomplished many amazing feats that season. I went on to be a 7-time NAIA all-american, only able to knock down my 800 PR by a couple of seconds, but removing an amazing 30+ seconds off my mile (or equivalent) best.
I want to thank those of you who take the time to read this. My ego appreciates it. :)