BYU is good, Their** men are.. well... more men, than the rest

You are forgetting that NCAA rules don't apply to 90% of the BYU athletes that you are complaining about. The Mormon church changed the age you can serve a mission to 18 more than 5 years ago. Most of these runners are headed into the mission field prior to ever enrolling at BYU. Their 5 year eligibility clock start ticking once they enroll full-time when they are usually 20 years old and have already completed their missions. Every other coach in the NCAA can tell their kids to delay enrollment for any reason they want, yet they do not.

The reason BYU is doing so well now is because their head coach is playing a numbers game. He's developing more athletes than any other program in the country. There are also some cultural advantages to growing up a church member and lots of Mormon kids are talented distance runners. The State of Utah churns out more elite distance runner than just about any other state.

The mission itself can mature these kids way faster than any other life trajectory. I would contend the maturity and mental toughness isn't about being 2 years older, it's about the mission itself that requires these kids to grow up and make better life choices.

This argument keeps coming up; however, it just isn't a great argument though.

1. Ed Eyestone is an outstanding distance coach! Other schools that I assume would also attract runners that have served missions don't seem to perform as well as BYU does (Utah State, Weber State, Southern Utah University, Utah Valley University, University of Utah; assuming all of these schools have distance programs). And, there are runners that have served missions that ran at universities outside of Utah that simply aren't as good as BYU's runners. I credit coaching heavily.

More for this point: look at Jared Ward, one of the best marathon runners in the US. He has been coached by Eyestone for the marathon and doesn't benefit from an age advantage like one could argue he did as a college student. But, he's crushing the professional scene. I would give some credit to the coaching here.

2. If this is such a huge advantage that is so obvious, why don't other universities try to establish an age advantage? They could redshirt freshmen, for example, like Penn State often does with their wrestlers (and they have had several wrestlers win NCAA titles their senior years). They also can recruit athletes with plans to go on a mission. One might say that these athletes wouldn't have an interest in going somewhere besides BYU, but that isn't always true and there are good runners with mission plans that choose not to go to BYU. I have also heard of coaches not being interested in waiting for an athlete that expresses a desire to go on a mission. If it's such an obvious advantage, wouldn't it be worth waiting?

3. Two of BYU's top men's runners didn't go on missions. So, the only explanation for their advantage is that they're really good (probably have good coaching).

A few other answers to things I've been reading:

- Missionary service after college is an option, but the best time to go is within a couple of years after high school. It's a COMPLETE break from regular life, so going after college would significantly alter career paths. Every aspect of the missionary's life is dedicated to being a missionary (that means willingly not spending time on things that would advance a career). It's going to be tough to request that these athletes wait until after college to go on missions since there's more to their lives than running in college.

- From my own experience as a missionary, there really isn't time for training during the mission. This isn't just something people say. If someone chooses to go on a mission, he or she understands this beforehand and chooses to focus wholly on missionary service. Missionaries only set aside only 30 minutes for exercise each day, so anything more than jogging around the block a bit isn't feasible. Missionaries get back out of shape and probably with a few extra pounds. If they were training hard during those two years, I would say that missions are a clear advantage. If coaches want the advantage of having athletes train hard while getting older, they should redshirt them.

The Church does not fund LDS missions. In most cases, the missionary and his/her family pay for the living expenses and personal costs of a mission. If the missionary or his/her family cannot afford to pay for the mission, they can receive assistance from the local congregation, whose "mission fund" rely on contributions from individual missions.

Also, LDS missions are almost always at a disadvantage by serving a mission. They completely walk away from their sport for up to 2 years, and must completely regain their form and conditioning when they return.

Your story is inaccurate, petty and offensive to the BYU athletes who put aside their sports careers to serve a mission, what many BYU athletes consider a highly calling.

Stories like this are only written when a 25-year-old BYU athlete accomplishes something! Pathetic.

I made my point...but my grammar is poor. Bad thing about that is I also put my college on hold to serve a mission, and then returned to get a Journalism and English degree from BYU. But, need to edit better!

I don't think one of those missions help you...look at BYU's football team-most served missions and their football team still sucks. Been watching the BYU runners from a distance. The runners from BYU seem like good, kind people and I am impressed. Fun to see such a gutsy race.

BYU scored 44 XC points in the 10k last night. Looking good for 2019 XC.

webby wrote:

Great passage. Did your end up regretting the mission and resenting your parents, or Mormonism? Did you become a true believer? Or something in between?

Ok, in response, this will be a longer post. Short answers first, though: Regretting a mission and my parents? No and Yes. The mission was the one time in my life where everything I did was dedicated not to myself, but to others. Dedicated to the belief that what I was teaching would help other people and was worth my sacrifices. Also, as another poster wrote, I came back from my mission much more mentally mature and responsible. Prior to my mission, my GPA was 1.8. Later, with a family to support, I went back to school, and my GPA throughout my Bachelor's and Master's degrees was 3.9. Maturity means the world. But yes, I regret losing the fire for running, wasting my talent, getting married very young and having a child just 15 months after that. I lost the fire for running, and I bogged down in all the responsibilities of raising a young family. Excuses, I know, and I do regret that. If I could go back and do it all again, would I? I honestly don't know. I had talent for running, but being realistic, I was never truly gifted. I could have been a very good also-ran, but that's about it. Sad, but true.

Did I become a true believer, or something in between? I would have to say it's still something in between. I wish I could say it's all true and I have no doubts. I'm a skeptic, though, and I need more than "good feelings" to make me believe in something. I believe there's not one returned Mormon missionary who can honestly say, without any doubts, that everything about the LDS Church is true. We all want to believe that, but it's entirely based on faith, or at least on believing that what other people we trust say is true. It's very comfortable to convince yourself that you have the truth and all the answers. It's extremely uncomfortable when you wake up and realize it's not that easy, and maybe you've been fooling yourself. There are plenty of true believers in all religions. They all have good feelings, and they all attribute those good feelings to a higher power. They all can't be right, and maybe all of them are wrong.

OK, so here are a couple of excerpts from my book that relate to this topic. The first is about my last NCAA cross country race. I started the season as the number one runner on my team, beating out all the senior people, as well as several of my teammates who had beaten me and been state champions just months earlier in high school. Injury ended that great start, and here are my feelings:

Crash and Burn

As I reach the four-mile mark, the leaders pass me going the other way. Today’s Western Athletic Conference (WAC) Cross Country Championship is on a large golf course in Idaho, and during the race we have to double back multiple times to cover the full 10,000 meters. The first runner I see go by in the opposite direction is 27-year-old Suleiman Nyambui of Tanzania, running for UTEP. Several months ago, Nyambui won a silver medal in the 5,000 meters at the 1980 Moscow Olympics, which were unfortunately boycotted by the United States. Not far behind Nyambui are several of his teammates, from Kenya. I think the second runner is 24-year-old Michael Musyoki, who recently finished second at the Commonwealth Games to the greatest of all Kenyan distance runners, multiple world record holder Henry Rono. Most of the other front runners in the race are also Africans.

As the lead Africans fly by in the opposite direction, I hear one of them say something to another in Swahili. The fact that they're talking during a fast race is intimidating. Before the race even started, I was in awe of the Africans. I couldn't help but stare at them on the starting line. They run as I only dream of running, their long, lean legs propelling them smoothly over rough ground, their ebony faces focused and tranquil during an all-out effort as if they were simply sitting and meditating under a blue African sky. I love watching them run. They are truly magnificent. But now, to be in a race with them, to even presume to be their competitor, suddenly seems ludicrous.

At the same time I admire the Africans, I resent them. Because of them and the American universities that recruit them, there are American runners sitting at home today without scholarships. While

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I certainly don't blame the African runners for jumping at their opportunities in America, I despise the universities that recruit them. Because of their participation, today's race is a farce. Not only are the Africans the most talented distance runners in the world, but they are often significantly older than the average American college runner. While the average American runner enters college at the age of 17 or 18, finishing four years of athletic eligibility by the age of 21 or 22, many of the African runners recruited by American universities begin their own collegiate running career in their early or even mid-twenties, prime years for a distance runner. The best example: in 1978, when he set all four of his world records, the great Henry Rono was 26 years old and on an athletic scholarship at Washington State University. Like Nyambui and Musyoki, he was literally a man among boys.

What makes me resent the Africans even more is that, while they are fed, sheltered, educated, and honed to a fine racing edge in American collegiate competition, when it comes time for the Olympic Games they will sweep the distance events and take their medals and glory home to Africa.

I actually ran with the Africans for the first mile. They were all around me when a timer called out “Four-thirty-nine, four-forty,” as I passed the one mile marker. But I was just a boy among men, because after that first mile I had to slow down, while they just kept going and pulled away. I don't know what got into me today. I know better than that.

I'm really dying now. And I'm so congested that I cough, hack and spit every hundred yards or so. Gradually, I'm passed by every one of my teammates. Glancing over my shoulder as I struggle through the last half mile, I see only a handful of runners behind me and realize I'll have to push even harder just to hold this pitiful position.

At last I stumble across the finish line, searching the crowd for Coach Jones and my teammates. I walk toward them through the fog of my fatigue. I am ashamed. I feel worthless. I'm on a four-year athletic scholarship, and today I finished last on my team. What's more, I ran a stupid race. If I were a dog, I'd be walking with my tail between my legs right now.

This is the last NCAA race I’ll ever run.

And here is an excerpt from my mission, when I still hoped that somehow I could maintain running fitness, but realized there was no way I could:

I follow Elder Riter's bicycle as he leads me through the quiet streets of Salinas, California, early on a gray sky morning. I rousted my “senior missionary companion” from his bed an hour before morning scripture study, and he was none too happy about it. I know this won't be a regular occurrence, what with all his yawning and complaining, but once is better than nothing.

“Come on, Elder! Run faster!” Elder Riter shouts. All of us missionaries go by the title “Elder” rather than our first names, and I'm still not used to it. He speeds up, trying to mentally tug me along with him. I respond, beginning my kick earlier than I had intended. He speeds up again.

“Come on, Elder, come on! Two-tenths of a mile to go!” Elder Riter shouts again, his eyes jumping from me to the odometer on his bicycle, and then back to the road ahead. I respond again, kicking as hard as I can.

“OK . . . get ready . . . get ready . . . STOP!” Elder Riter shouts.

I hit the stop button on my watch, easing down to a jog, and then

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to a walk.

“What's the time, Elder?” he asks, straddling his bicycle, curiosity written all over his face.

I look at my watch, disappointment written all over my face. “Four-twenty.”

“Four-twenty? Fetch, Elder!” he exclaims. (“Fetch,” I've recently discovered, is a common missionary substitute for the real “F-word”.) “You just ran a four-twenty mile, Elder! You said you were a runner, but I didn't know you were fast!”

“It's not . . . very fast . . . Elder,” I gasp, totally spent. “It's ten seconds . . . slower than my best. . . . I've been . . . a lot faster and . . . besides . . . this was on a straight road . . . at sea level. It's not terrible, though . . . after weeks . . . of almost no running.”

“Humble thyself, Elder,” he jokes.

I laugh weakly. “Yeah, right, Elder. Thanks for . . . coming with me today.”

We head back to our apartment for morning scripture study. This is the last real running I'll do for years.

Kvothe wrote:

But lets be honest, if you love running and you have free time, what are you going to do? .

For those unfamiliar with how this works, missionaries have a schedule - with only half an hour of exercise per day between 6:30 and 7:00 AM. During that time, they must remain within sight and sound of their 'companion', few of which run.

There is no "free time" during which you can go for a run besides that.

Most missionaries come back significantly heavier (30+ lbs). I have seen many 4:15-24 miler types come back unable to get back into shape. It happens every year.

Oldtimers...man you need to take a chill pill or you'll pop a vessel.

What you've done here is more than point out something you think matters. It's over-the-top obsessive.

Are you alright?

moist wrote:

Please identify the specific physiological changes that occur between 23 and 25 that confer said advantage.

If someone has to explain that to you, you are a moron.

Much of the discussion centers on the physiological advantages missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints may or may not (mostly) gain while serving their mission. Having run in college before serving a mission and then competing after it was my experience that any regular exercise was difficult to achieve for several reasons others have stated already (e.g. if your missionary companion is not in to exercising, tough luck).

For me 4 months after returning home I was in decent training shape. Yes, I gained a little weight, but not the 20-40lbs some have reported. The biggest advantage I feel I obtained while serving a mission was growth and maturity that helped me balance life priorities - and I do believe this is a distinct advantage for any athlete, any sport, female or male - that chooses some type of service experience for a period of time.

I believe the biggest point people are missing about BYU distance success has much less to do whether their runners have or have not served a mission, and more about the #s game.

BYU carries a HUGE # of distance runners - men and women. I would guess that nearly (I'm sure exceptions exist) every competitive D1 program that has a large (20+?) # of runners do well on a consistent basis. Some coaches know that with large #s they can push training volume and that enough runners will "survive" the training and runners will improve.

BYU has a HUGE recruiting advantage with members of the church - where a great majority of young women and young men already want to attend. They are willing to walk-on with little to no scholarship - and financially that is usually not a problem given the EXCEPTIONALLY low cost of attendance.

BYU coaches know this and so they are able to easily recruit a large number of runners. Once they have the quantity they can use their good coaching to develop runners into achieving high marks.

As others have stated there are no rules against other schools doing likewise; although, as it has been pointed out no other schools have an organization set-up to support service experiences to the extent BYU has. That said, the biggest advantage they have are the huge #s, particularly in the MD/Distance events. It's not like they have to limit their roster to 15 runners like some other xc/track programs at other schools do. They can hoard as many runners away from other schools. Other schools outside of BYU do the same thing - they hoard #s in the MD/Distance areas, but use other hoarding strategies and are able to have consistent success.

If we really want to talk about what is and is not fair, roster size differences would likely be at or near the top of the list, but that is a discussion for another thread.

IMHO BYU success is more about their ability to have large #s of quality MD/Distance runners and the ability of the coaches to develop them than it is about any real (albeit small imho) or perceived benefits derived from serving a mission.

This is a pretty good post about why BYU is so successful. As was stated, it's a numbers game. Every good Mormon kid wants to go to BYU whether they are good in sports or not. Thus, getting into BYU isn't so easy. You need good grades, high SAT's and ACT's. Not exceptionally high but they need to be pretty good. If you are a Mormon athlete then you really want to go to the "Y". This gives BYU an already large athlete pool to draw from regardless where the future student athlete is from. They have their top recruits but then there are also the other 20 or so walk on's that are working out as well. I'm sure that BYU's 8-14 XC runners could easily beat a number of big schools because of their depth. Also keep in mind that the University of Utah doesn't have a Men's XC or T&F program. Utah State, Utah Valley, Weber, and Southern Utah University are the only other schools in the state of Utah that compete for athletes. A large number of athletes also come from the western US states that have high concentrations of Mormons. Ed's a great coach as well so that definitely helps and they have a very successful history. What Mormon kid wouldn't want to be a part of that?

.

1) A 25 year old runner is advantaged over a 23 year old runner

Frank Shorter won Olympic Gold at about age 25 which he could not have done at 23

Steve Prefontaine got 4th in Games as a 21 year old........would have seriously medaled at age 25. (Gold, maybe silver.)

25 year old athlete has HUGE advantage over his 23 year old self. All sports.

Yes and BYU had the best distance squad on the track of all time.

age of college wrote:

There is nothing stopping other runners from taking 1-2 gap years before starting college. They could also train full time instead of going on a mission.

Bull. Watch your scholarship go bye-bye.