The race of the meet!

Little noticed by the media was perhaps the most dramatic and enthralling race of the Trials, in my humble opinion. The Oregon TC put on a joggers mile, and--because I had made the silly promise to you and my daughters--I ran. This only two days after my back went out on me on an hour run in Alton Baker Park. This would be my first track race since I was outkicked by a heavyset French woman in the media 800 at the World Champs in 2001. She smoked a cigarette afterwards. Sometimes my foolishness knows no bounds--I try not to let pride limit me.

At Hayward Field, an amazing 300 runners showed up for the mile race. The 5-6 heats were grouped by projected times, so I went with the 8-minutes and up crowd. The earlier races were nothing to sneeze at. The fast heat went in 4:24, with Pinckney grad David Emery running 4:26 in training flats, after a seven mile morning run. In another heat, Paul McMullen dusted off his legs and ran 4:52.

Then the gun went off for my race: I had resolved to start slow, so my back wouldn't spasm on me. I went through the 400 in 2:02.6--right on target. I eased into a faster pace, and his 3:52.8 at 800. Then I got into the fun of passing people (to give you an idea of how slowly I started, I had to pass a race walker). Lap three was my fastest yet at 1:45.6. Then I looked up and saw the green grandstands towering over me. Hayward Field--the track where so many legends have run. I almost got a little misty-eyed. I unleashed my devastating kick--so called because it looks especially devastating when used in an 8-minute mile heat. My last circuit of the track took 1:37.1, and my final time was 7:15.5 (keep in mind this was no namby-pamby 1600m. This was a full mile--1609.34 glorious meters).

My back cramped so badly I felt like Quasimodo. But I had raced at Hayward Field in the footsteps of ghosts and legends. And most importantly, I beat my 12-year-old's best time. I've still got it. Not much of it, but I've still got it.