Camillus NY - Cross country is upon us. With official practices starting up last week, most teams have been solidified, meets been scheduled, and captains been named. One team in Northern Syracuse is preparing much like every other. Located in one of the state's toughest sections, the West Genesee Wildcats is looking for another breakout season. Head coach Jim Vermeulen has offered MileSplit NY readers a glimpse into the process of preparation and execution in the art of cross country. Last names have been omitted, but first names retained to maintain authenticity. You can check back every week for another entry into the XC Journal entitled A Harrier Season.
Week 11 – Finish Lines?
Monday
We are hoping to steal a workout. The weather maps and forecasts indicate we will have just enough time before the first touches of Hurricane Sandy. Ours too, is to be a hybrid, combining elements of interval, hill and speed workouts under restless but safe skies. With that workout in the back pocket, I reason, Tuesday and Wednesday can play out as it must and our sectional competitors would still be fine.
That is the plan, but the plan begins to unravel in early afternoon when school evening activities are cancelled. I’m hoping against a domino effect of over-caution but am surprised when an athlete texts me about 2:15 that high school students are being sent home. I call the A.D. No answer. I call the high school main office. No answer. My school will be open with activities until 6:00pm, so I’m perplexed. Where are my runners?
The answer arrives with another text. An car accident has damaged a sub-station and knocked out electricity to the high school. They are home, and my stolen practice is over before it begins, so I in turn head home to e-mail suggested workouts to the runners and plan for the remainder of the week. By 5:30, when winds had begun slanting the trees and delivering heavy rains, disappointment over a lost workout is moot.
Tuesday
We don’t dodge a bullet. Judging from the news reports, central New York dodges more of an artillery shell. We wake to sporadic rain and moderate winds. That’s it. The schools and businesses that peremptorily closed last night are wiping egg from their faces. The rest of us go to work.
Our practice has been shifted to the high school in case of the heavy rain and wind still possible. We can complete a track workout and get into the weight room to lift. Down to twenty runners for the sectional race, the team does indeed feel small. A lot of the team’s personality is now enjoying a short transition before resuming training for winter sports. For those who remain, it’s time to do the work.
The main task for the day is power running in the form of step-up 400’s. Another straightforward workout session, it involves three cones from the start line backward in ten meter intervals. Runners start at the first fly-zone area, run the 400 at the prescribed pace, ‘step up’ to the next cone with a few gulps of air and do it again twice for a set of three 400’s. A one lap recovery jog separates sets. “Just three sets at 5k or faster pace,” I instruct them. Will, a baseball guy, has never run them before and looks pensive. Ethan remembers the track day they completed five sets. “That was tough,” he admits. Laura pairs with Lindsay and the rest put together their wagons. It’s windy and wet, but all in all we’re a lot better than many other places in the Empire State. They toe the start line and set off.
With each group on their own watch and aiming for negative splits across sets, Coach Delsole and I can watch and analyze—and bark out the occasional form instruction. Even with the team slimmed down to its best performers, I can almost a guarantee there will be variety of reactions to the work, as precise and regimented as it is. And sure enough, someone’s had a really bad day at school, an anchor she now drags around the track. Another is feeling punkish. Lack of sleep? Illness coming on? I hope neither. Still, most of them motor with purpose, their repeats passing with metronomic compression. They finish tired but not exhausted—what we were aiming for.
Following a recovery run out in the neighborhoods, we share the weight room with baseball players logging some off-season strength training. It’s a dedicated bunch but also a reminder of how specialized many high school sports have become. Runners, of course, have the opportunity to compete year-round in our run sports--but at least they don’t subtract themselves from other sports to do so. There’s the rub. The final stop for the day is the school cafeteria, where we assemble for some paperwork. I distribute race plans for the athletes to complete. We want to know what they hope to accomplish at sectionals. More importantly, we want them to know what they want to accomplish. It’s a simple question format: what are your time, place or other goal and what strategies will you employ to reach them? Heads bend to the task and the athletes, for the first time all afternoon, are quiet.
Wednesday
For the rest of the week, we are following the medical credo: do no harm. How to pull that off is not always so clear. Drop the volume but keep the intensity some insist. Back off the intensity, others claim, and maintain volume lest you signal the body to begin shutting down. If you look hard enough, you can find conflicting advice from the ‘experts’ about how to prepare for major races. Those conflicts speak to the still-imperfect science of running. Elite teams typically settle the question by training through sectionals. This year again, we don’t enjoy that luxury.
It’s a raw day—cool, damp, overcast. But the wind’s down and the rain’s relented—so we’ll take it. The runners wander in from the shuttle bus, drop their packs and begin to assemble just as ‘Batman’ arrives. Leave it to Nick. The car’s a nice touch, but I’m wondering what workout advantage he will enjoy in costume.
“Increasing intensities,” I explain to them. They’ll run first at general conditioning pace, then some at tempo pace and finally finish fast with short hill sprints. It’s no surprise when Lindsay walks over with hand up in question mode to ask if we can run the tempo first. “Well, what’s your reasoning for that?” I ask her. “I don’t know,” she admits after a short pause, so I explain at length the reasoning behind progressing slow to fast following Tuesday’s hard work. “O.K., O.K,” she finally interrupts me, smiling. “You win.” Smiling right back, I tell her, “Lindsay, I didn’t know this was a contest.” The runners gather into their groups and set off into the back field to do their work.
“I was hoping for one of those clear, crisp mid-autumn days,” I complain to Coach Delsole as we monitor the comings and goings of runners from our Three Corners base. He merely shakes his head. Batman handles the runs pretty well, but he doesn’t appear particularly faster or stronger to me. Guess that idea’s out for Saturday.
Thursday
The boys have had enough. All season, Alex has cruised out in front of the group, always ‘winning the warm-up,’ looking for all the world like our #1. I’ve already got him pegged as a college 10,000 meter guy who will eventually run marathons. Over the course of the season, Alex has been unable to break into our top seven, but he owns the warm-ups—until today.
I’m bundled up with waterproof layers and in a desultory mood as they begin a preparatory mile run on the track. Right away, however, it’s clear something’s different. Around turn one, Logan is shooting out in front of Alex, followed closely by Kal, Jack and Nate. It doesn’t take long to figure this out, and by the time they’ve cruised around the half mile, surging in front, I’ve decided to join in. “Two to go!” I yell at the trio, fingers waving, “You can do this!” Others passing at more appropriate speeds smile and laugh. Alex plugs by, poker-faced.
Into the gun lap, they surge, and issue is settled. Alex is going down. Four hundred meters later, Logan bursts across the warm-up finish line, arms skyward. His conspirators follow and all exchange high fives. As Alex cruises in, pace unbroken, Logan walks over and offers a sportsman-like handshake and hug.
Alex good-naturedly shrugs his shoulders and smiles. I’m guessing he’s already planning a new streak come indoor.
Friday
Another day of damp and drizzle. Sandy has been persistent as well as destructive. Nothing about the early day—a relentlessly thick blanket of clouds and intermittent rain--suggests the afternoon will be any different. And it isn’t. When the athletes arrive, we take time in the large group room of CMS. I return their Race Plans for review, then discuss the nuts-and-bolts of what’s likely to be a muddy slugfest at VVS on Saturday. Todd Bauer and his crew prepare a course as well as anyone in the state, but there are limits. The important points given the athletes are these: forget the September VVS invitational; this will be an entirely different course for its altered physical/mental demands; bring extra everything—layers, socks, hats, gloves. With a projected map, we talk our way through the course, remembering features, suggesting new strategies for the expected conditions. “That’s where you have to fight the negative thoughts,” Laura cautions about the back field loops leading to the two mile mark. She should know, having run a muddy VVS at the 2011 state championship. I flip up the latest state polls and suggest the possibilities of going after our state-ranked sectional competitors. “If the conditions are a challenge you gladly accept,” I tell them, “then those conditions become your advantage.”
They head out for a short run just as the cold rain returns--and then intensifies.
Saturday
“It’s a long way from June,” I mention to Coach Delsole as the bus barrels through a cold rain shower along the Thruway. We have our full complement of boys/girls sectional squads as well as other runners who, their seasons’ finished, will serve as support staff. Additional runners, as well as a host of parent supporters and well-wishers, will make the trek to V-V-V-S High School for our sectional championship races.
The sun breaks out when we arrive—and then as quickly disappears behind an ominous bank of clouds. That becomes the pattern for the day. We caution the runners on layers—better to run a little warm with top and tights than a little cold. But with conditions constantly changing, it’s tricky. The course itself, though, has been well managed, and in spite of the week’s weather is in reasonable shape. Time to lace up the spikes and race.
Following check-in and warm-ups, I leave the girls on the line with Coach Delsole and head out into the course, joining other coaches and spectators at strategic junctions. At least three dramas will unfold for the girls. This is Laura’s first race since early October, and the goal is simple: make states. No time goals, no position goals, just control the first mile, move as able the second, gut out the third. Lindsay also wants states and will have to run the perfect tactical race—and then some. And the girls’ team wants their best effort of the season to set the stage for 2013. Simple.
From my distant point, I see the runners shoot off the start line. Shortly, they arrive, with F-M packing the front ranks and Laura comfortable among those following. Lindsay, though, is too far back and will have work to do. Same for other team members. Once they pass, I join a race of spectators to the mile mark where Laura and Lindsay have both moved up, but one of our top runners is visibly struggling. I pick them up again at a mile and a half and then near the two mile mark. Laura has by then advanced into the top-7 and is racing for all she’s worth. Lindsay has overcome much of her early deficit but needs more if she’s to finish as a top-5 individual qualifier. “You’re #8!” I yell as she passes. “You have time!” She does, but not much.
I hustle to the final rise overlooking the track’s finish area and wait. Laura passes in 6th and bound for another week of work and states. But Lindsay, despite an all-out effort and a personal record on the course, will fall two places short of qualification and wait another year. And the team, with it’s top-5 runner slowed by a sore knee, finishes 5th but a credible 9th in the 55 team sectional field.
There’s little time for conversation with the girls at the finish area. The boys are on the start line, prepping. Theirs is the final race of the day and the weather, if anything, has chilled, with clouds and blustery winds once again locking up the sky. If the boys want to remain in the Federations conversation, they need a strong showing today against three state top-15 teams. I don’t have to tell them that. Instead, I simply remind them of how far they’ve come, what they can do, and wish them well. Then I head into out onto the course.
The months compress into minutes. The guys appreciate that this could be their last race of the season. For seniors, there’s an additional layer of finality. But in the end, it’s their race. Coach Delsole and I can want it for them, but only they can deliver. Kal and Nate take it out hard, perhaps a bit too hard, but this is the championship race. At the mile mark, our top-5 are close enough and far enough up. It’s just a matter of letting their individual races unfold as a team effort.
At the two mile mark, they are pushing through strong winds and snow pellets. The team is still running strong, but not in a position to challenge Baldwinsville or Liverpool. F-M powers in front of everyone. Will, who started more conservatively, has moved into our lead runner slot and has suddenly placed himself in contention for an individual states qualification. I hoof over to the rise to wait on his arrival from the final woods loop. He crests the rise ten meters and two places out of the fifth individual spot with five hundred meters left. Fast finishes are usually his strong suit, but his middle mile effort has taken its toll and he cannot mount the surge to track those two runners down. He crosses the line in 10th but, like Lindsay, as the 7th individual finisher. Only a sophomore, he will get more chances. The team makes a run at it, but takes 4th. They are, however, also 4th overall in the 63 team merge. Does that build their Federations case? No one knows. It’s out of their hands now. Others will have to make their case.
In the raw cool air, Friends of Wildcats XC has set up an apre-race food spread which includes hot chili and soup. We linger, not feeling a rush to depart. Except for the V-V-S and Section III crews, the place has emptied. When I finally call the bus around, the athletes and supporters are ready to call it a day. After we clear our site and board the bus, and I ask the athletes to listen up as I offer results and congratulations. “Folks,” I tell them as we pull out, “except for our seniors and Laura, Wildcats Cross-Country 2013 starts tomorrow.”
Sunday
They are out on their own runs today. Laura has fought hard enough to earn another week of training and competing—our survive-and-move-on strategy. The boys’ top-7 have decided to stick with it and play the odds of a Federation Championship bid. For all of them, the practices continue and uncertainty becomes a primary motivator—the blessing and the burden of all runners. They will keep the work going into the chill of autumn, hoping for one more chance at that perfect effort, that perfect race…..
Week 10 – The Hard-won Lessons
Monday
Jobs need to be completed before the day’s work can begin. Kal, Ethan, Laura, Lindsay and Meg line up before the modified teams in the middle school’s large group instruction room. We’ve interrupted their uniform returns, and stacks of pizza are cooling in boxes, so my runners speak only briefly but positively about making the transition from modified to varsity next fall. Then it’s outside for team pictures on the terrace section of our course--smiling faces lined against a backdrop of golden leaves.
Tempo’s on the docket, this day a cut-down version of 9, then 8 to 7 minutes segments of slightly increased paces with a short recovery between. With the warm-up and drills complete, Coach Delsole and I head into the backfields to monitor the runners and mull over the week ahead. The work goes well for the athlete, and with a stride session to finish up, I expect this to end in the ‘ordinary’ category until a parent arrives to register a complaint about something we’ve told her runner. It takes a lot of effort to explain that what her runner hears about being picked up on time from meets and what we actually said are two different things. Just another reminder of how anything can be interpreted in multiple ways.
Tuesday
The weather is lousy with driven rain, so I schedule some indoor time to take care of team business. With the aid of distributed maps, Nick volunteers to talk through the league championship course that we hope will remain firm and does a fine job. Then I pass out this year’s team evaluations and instruct that they leave names off, write what’s on their mind but provide useful information. Unlike year’s past, this one has been simplified and based on our Race Analysis form. Three questions: 1)What did you like about the season; 2) What didn’t you like about the season; 3) What changes would drive improvements to the program? They bend to the task as Lou arrives and are finished in 10-15 minutes. We re-assemble outside where I distribute several college recruitment letters to junior and senior runners. Then, as the rain intensified, they are sent on their warm-up. This is the weather we’ve been fortunate to dodge most of the fall.
Wednesday
Meet Day. If you know your runners, you may have the results of the meet before the start gun sounds. Perceived attitude, body posture or sometimes messages from the home-front(“his dog died last night”) is all the information you need to predict a sub-par performance. Then you hope that #6 is ready to step up. Sometimes, however, the ‘read of the runner’ or the team has to wait a half mile—but seldom longer.
Our league championship course makes the in-race determination easier. By the time they charge around the opening loop of school fields and navigate the up/down rise just beyond the start line, the boys varsity runners are at the half mile. By then, the F-M competitors have done what they can do well and what I told our boys they would: taking it out hard enough to make a statement. Several of the lead Wildcats who grind by Coach Delsole and I are grimacing and refusing to look at us. They know they are not where they should be in the opening pack, and this looks to be a long day for both them and the team.
And it is. Despite the fact that four of our top-5 average fifty-two second improvements over previous PR’s on the course, they cannot recover from that gun-shy start and finish second, far behind the state’s #1 squad. My thoughts are mixed, but the biggest disappointment is in not properly preparing them for the mental demands of this race. You can take a loss to a better team. Putting a mentally tentative squad on the line is both frustrating and inexcusable.
The girls’ varsity pushes hard against the wave of Hornets, and their finish pack earns them second place. Lead runner Laura had asked about racing, but her training is more important, and she remains on the sidelines preparing for sectionals. One of the most satisfying moments of the day comes in the boys JV race. Following a difficult summer of interrupted training and subsequent up/down performances this fall, Matt finally comes into his own with his new spikes on. Not waiting for anyone, he charges out from the start and takes control of the race, leading an enthusiast group of Wildcats as determined as we’d hoped for the varsity. Coach Aris and I are standing near a wooded section of the course just beyond the two mile mark. Matt comes barreling through, misses the leaf-covered turn and, headed off over an embankment, gets shouted back on course by me. Wheeling, he takes several steps through the underbrush to regain the trail, loses his footing and comes crashing down in front of both of us. Rolling over, he pops up with mud on his leg and an embarrassed grin. “Well, at least he’s smiling,” I tell a smiling Coach Aris as Matt flies off down the trail. That’s the only mishap as the JV’ers roll to a 24 point victory and several huge final-meet efforts by squad members. An F-M assistant good-naturedly ribs me after about “sand-bagging” the race, but team times fall pretty much in order. That’s just racing, I’m thinking. That is what’s fun to watch.
A gloomy, cloud-covered dusk has clamped down on the course by the time we finish our après-race snacks, courtesy of our ‘Friends’ supporters, and board the buses for the dark ride home.
Thursday
It’s always a strange day—the day after leagues. We shrink to ten runners per team, the allowable number for sectionals. The majority of the team members arrive for their ‘exit practice’ with an admixture of melancholy, satisfaction and, for some, relief. They’ve been at it, I remind them, since June, and I count the five months for dramatic effect. They began in the dwindling days of spring, traversed all the moods of summer and advanced far into fall. It’s a long time for a scholastic runner, but if they’ve done it correctly and to the best of their ability, they have a right to any—or all—of those emotions.
We stick to the routine. This time, however, I do not analyze the league championship team results but instead pass out copies of the meet results that contain my addendum: last year’s performances for those that raced and a computation of the average improvements in times of girls and boys teams. Over ninety percent of the runners have individually demonstrated improvements, some dramatic. But there is a marked disparity between teams. The boys’ average improvement is significantly greater than the girls. I give them my simple reaction to that: why?
“I don’t have the answer,” I tell them, “but I want you to think about it, and I plan on finding out.” Warm-up complete, they group for a light run—the last for many—that’s followed by weights, drills and strides on the football field grass. The day has been unseasonably warm, almost summer-like. Some of those finished runners linger after, some hurry off. For a few moments, Coach Delsole and I meet with the remaining sectional squads to remind and re-focus.
Friday
Coach Delsole’s cell call reaches me in Chapel Hill, N.C. I’m down there making wedding arrangements for my son, and Del is running a favorite interval workout of both athletes and coaches: Manhattan miles. One reason for that is because our vantage point for the workout puts us atop a small hill starring out over colorful autumnal fields and forests. So I’m feeling a little gyped. The runners have done just fine, though, Del reports. The times sound solid, and I’m glad we completed the workout in front of the expected miserable weather next week. Productive practices may be hard to come by once the ‘Frankenstorm’ hits. We may even have to get creative with indoor work. They will take a rest day tomorrow and come back with a solid long run on Sunday while the weather holds. The disappointments have been shed; the determination is renewed; the next race lies ahead.
I’ve missed an e-mail analysis that came in Wednesday from Aakash, whose season has concluded:
Strengths: I stayed conservative and really pushed the middle and last mile! I had run with a pack today and pushed myself with them to stay on the wagon! I used the hills to my advantage and the back train-bed the second time to pick people off and get away and in front of the guys that I was pushing with the whole race! I knew when and where to pick up, and didn't get mentally down on myself, and pushed till I finished the race.
Weaknesses: I may have gone out conservative for a bit too long in the race till I started pushing! And I really should have gone a bit faster the first mile, and not have conserved as much!
Comments: I will be coming to practice tomorrow and finishing up my season with one last practice. I will be taking the rest of the week off and start running again next Monday while going to the gym to stay strong and fit so that I'm ready for the indoor season! Thank you so much for the awesome season and helping me push to become better I've improved every race comparatively to last year by over a minute and 30 seconds, I really kicked some butt this year and I'm going to stay consistent during the off season and make something happen in indoor like it did this season of XC! You’re the best, Coach. Thanks for being there for me and supporting me so that I could reach my goals. I couldn't thank you enough!
That’s a good enough reason for coaching……
Week 9 – Digging a Hole
One Workout
The word can be confusing. On the one hand, coaches and trainers often explain “pain” to runners as the flashing red light which warns that you better stop or something really bad is going to happen. On the other, the T-shirt slogan declares that “pain” is temporary--mostly because it would just look weird as “Discomfort is temporary….” So we qualify. Pain that doesn’t go away quickly is that bad pain. The other pain is the price you pay many days to be a distance runner. Today I’m telling them about the latter. Today there will be that kind of pain.
Our school hill circuit is nothing fancy, but it runs well as a workout whether bone dry or a sloppy mess. Dry is better only because a wet workout day creates a beaten path that leaves evidence for days, sometimes weeks. Three of the four ‘hills’ in it are more rises than hills, but they add up. Two up/down loops on what we call School Hill behind the main building then stretch out into the first 200 meter ‘flat’ where the objective is momentum and biomechanics. Then a short steep ‘up’ to a turn-around and another 150 meter flat across the school grounds ends at the base of the final hill, the steepest and longest, the leg-burner. A .45 mile circuit, according to Mike’s GPS watch. Do that three times with an 80 meter walk/jog back to the start and you have a set. Put three of those sets together and you have the core of a hard training day—the kind of effort those T-shirts advertise.
We talk before the work begins. I mull over Manhattan for them. As Coach Delsole has reminded me more than once, teenagers get over a bad race a lot faster than coaches. That’s generally a good thing, but it’s our job is to decide when to let that happen and when not. Today, I hold the boys varsity squad back from the warm-up run to talk to them directly. I am direct about how two of them dropped the ball at Manhattan and let the team down. “You guys are in a hole now,” I tell the team that started the season with aspirations of qualifying for November’s Federation Championship. “Your only chance to make Feds is to run strong at Marathon this Saturday. If you don’t, Feds is gone. And then if you do that, your only chance is to run at F-M in leagues. If you don’t, Feds is gone. If you do well against F-M, then you have to run as a top team at Sectionals. If you don’t, Feds is gone.” The mantra makes the point, and not wanting to waste any more time, I send them off on their warm up.
When the opening run and drills are concluded, the runners congregate at the base of School Hill. The boys front-runners have created a large group or, as we call it, a big wagon. Fine by us. They understand our expectation that everyone stays ‘on the wagon’ with consistent efforts. This is a team without an established sectional or state-level front-runner, so pack-running and compression of times both in racing and in practices is critical. Mutual responsibility is what makes it work. Success requires everyone. They get that.
But the boys’ big wagon soon develops problems. They gun and gut the first set together, but in the second, two runners fall off the pace. And it’s not for lack of trying. The top runners are just pushing that hard. Of course, Coach Delsole and I aren’t making it any easier either. Several runners who either lose focus or aren’t practicing at their race positions hear it from us. It’s that kind of day. “Don’t let yourself be gapped on the flats!” Del bellows at runners several times as they hit the first reach. I command others to push harder to stay with their groups. We aren’t the kindliest of coaches on this day, but the moment—and the work—demands focus and effort. Up, down, up, down, across the flats, then pounding the last hill—they do it again and again and again, gasping and grimacing. The boy’s top runners hang tight.
All in all, it’s probably the hardest they’ve worked this season. By the final interval, Kal has decided to go. He leaves the others behind in the first flat and, legs churning, drives the final hill with his face taught and determined. Wobbly, he stands atop the hill as his teammates finish closely behind. The girls’ front runners have been more separated. No wagon for them today. And Abby, too, has left her group behind in the final circuits. The reason? “I didn’t want to wait that long between intervals,” she explains.
Once the last groups power their final hill, they all set off on a long cool-down. Relaxed stretches replace core drills, and all I have to say to them is “good job today.” But it’s unnecessary. They already know that.
The Lead Up
Mid-week slips by, autumn days of color and calm weather. The runners re-coup from Monday’s hard training with Tuesday general conditioning runs and light strides. Wednesday the intensity increases with tempo training, the back fields and woods loops providing a tapestry of trail-side attractions. It wouldn’t be hard to ‘sell’ the sport to non-runners with those visuals, but I’m not sure scenery is high on the list for our athletes exacting out paces on their prescribed routes. Several who missed the Monday training complete an alternate hill workout. Laura runs soft loops, testing the hip muscle. Thursday at the high school for neighborhood runs and weights, with all its manicured stadium grass, seems drab by comparison but leads into a pre-race day with the fingers crossed about weather. It rains hard much of Friday, so I seize the opportunity and herd the team into the middle school to discuss our Marathon Invitational course and have them complete voting for team awards. We emerge to clearing skies. They head off on a relaxed run followed by strides and stretches and final instructions for Saturday. For this one, the hay’s in the barn.
The Meet
There are multiple reasons we prefer to close our invitational season at Marathon. It is, of course, an opportunity for us to compete against Southern Tier teams outside our section. It’s also one of the grandest cross-country settings we encounter all year, and we also appreciate the tremendous organization and efficiency of the meet organized by Coach Todd James. Our athletes’ and teams’ efforts there have been mostly positive over the years, with opportunities to enter both the seeded and unseeded contests as well as the JV races. In that way, more of our athletes are thrust into scoring positions. They don’t seem to mind; some even profess an affinity for this tough, tilted strength course that can be downright brutal if wet and muddy.
The downside for me is that with multiple races, I am glued to the start line while Coach Delsole handles mid-race sites and the finish. Because of the course loops, however, I do see the runners in one race several times even as I am conducing line drills with the next squad.
With the team tent erected and sidelined runners completing bib preparations, Del and I head out to our positions, leaving squad captains to deliver their groups to the start line on time. First up is the boy’s unseeded race, and I remind them following their team cheer that they are definitely in the hunt. Off quickly with the gun but cautious with the first mile that has suckered many a runner, they measure out strong races and place 2nd behind Corning’s strong second squad.
While they are battling their way around the course, the seeded varsity crew arrives at the start line to begin final drills. They know what is on the line: a shot at #6 state-ranked Corning. More importantly, Marathon offers a chance to begin climbing out of the hole they dug with a mediocre team performance at Manhattan. Longer spikes are in to control the mushiness at several points on the course. As the start official shouts out the count-down minutes, I caution them one last time about controlling the first mile, remind them how good they can be and leave it at that. “Guns up,” I radio to Del, who wants an unofficial watch on the runners. With the crack of the starter’s pistol, they are off.
Most coaches can count on one hand the important races when a plan perfectly concocted is then executed perfectly. The sport effectively seals off runners from coaching during the duration. We can’t pull them over mid-race to reinforce race strategy or mental attitude. Aside from some shouted instructions that many runners swear they never hear, we become spectators. As my former AD observed, “Once the gun goes off, they’re on their own.”
On their own, however, the squad reacts well to the up-front power of the Corning team. When they circle back to the start line following an opening loop, everyone has positioned well, with the top-5 all inside the first fifteen runners. Will has gone out a little soft, but it’s certain he will work himself up in the middle mile--which he does. Mike and Jack are right there in the top group—a good sign. They disappear down the tilted topography. I won’t see them again until the final 1000 meters of the course, when much of the race will have been determined and only guts ‘n go remains….
The perfect scenario would have presented all our runners elevating and the team scoring a surprising upset. More realistically, I was hoping they would challenge the course and register that team race which makes them believe: we’re on our way. That they accomplish. All five scorers place in the top-20 with a 1-5 thirty-second compression. Corning takes the prize but our second-place squad walks away with mounting confidence. All our squads except girls seeded varsity place first or second. For boys varsity, the rest of the season remains a tall order--and the clock is ticking--but this is what they’ve sacrificed for since June: a chance to be in the hunt.
Week 8 – Critical Mass
Preparations
It will all boil down to how well you perform in the big meets—how many times have our runners heard some variation of that? The answer is many, with the important distinction being that such a message passes through a variety of filters, each with his or her own name. Racer A understands the intent, puts the heart into the work and keys for the result. Runner B hears the words, which for one reason or another on race-day drown in a sea of qualifiers—my ankle, my head cold, my warm-up, my sick dog, my whatever. Runner C knows what you’re saying and just doesn’t buy it. Running is what he/she wants to make it on any given day—and that’s that. Runner D is simply mystified by how incredibly hard it is to be a full-potential runner compared to other sports that offer half-times, time outs and sidelines. We love our majority ‘A’ runners, but we coach them all.
Monday brings a variety of news, some of it unpleasant. Laura has a muscle strain in the hip that will sideline her—time undetermined. Wednesday’s dual meet is definitely out. Manhattan is in jeopardy, but we have to wait and see. Two team members e-mail they will not be able to attend the Columbus Day practice due to ‘conflicts’ in plans. I e-mail back that their alternate plans will also conflict with their ability to race on Wednesday. One shows up.
Prior to the workout, we talk about the week ahead, which should be an easy one for both teams. After all, it’s only defending state champs Fayetteville-Manlius on Wednesday and then relaxed Manhattan races on Saturday—right? Once they visualize their full plates, I offer the realization that they also walk the fitness tightrope from here on out: high fitness but high vulnerability. “Yes, you’re in great shape, but it’s also easier to get sick, so take extra precautions with sleep, nutrition, hydrations.”
Segmented tempo runs on the back trails go well. The boys’ front group is tight. The girls front runners are more strung out, but each effective. Eva, returning from knee issues, runs comfortably and confidently. Mary is also running stronger, though she wanders off after the second interval and bends over, looking like she might lose her lunch. “You O.K.?” I ask when she returns. She shakes her head yes and answers, “I feel bad. When I get on the back loop, I feel like I’m going to throw up.” I simply shake my head, and then she smiles wryly. “But other than that I’m good,” she says and walks back to her group.
We finish with strides and core drills. The meets are a day closer.
Dual Meet
What do you do with a dual meet against F-M? Well, the first thing you do is adjust goals and expectations. Tuesday, we ran a good practice of low-intensity volume and the boys were uniformly intrigued by the opportunity to measure up against F-M. Since none were being held out, they wanted to race rather than try to dial back. So race, I told them; we’ll use Thursday and Friday as necessary to prep for.
Fayetteville-Manlius High School sits on a hill, and it welcomes all the weather that happens to pass through. What was passing through when we arrived was wind-driven rain. The modified racers caught some of it, but by the time our boys’ varsity toed the start line things had improved a tad. With the whistle, I watched them disappear down into the back reaches of the course, knowing we’d see little of the race but the final thousand meters. I chatted with Laura while waiting and wondering. When they returned, our boys had made a race of it, taking four of the top eight positions. And with two of our top guys running fifth and eleventh for us—off days each--it was cause for optimism. The girls were not so lucky. A long line of green Hornets was broken only by Lindsay in 7th. Still, the solid efforts had been apparent, and on the dark ride home, thoughts ran forward.
Manhattan
My cell phone dies just before the Lincoln Tunnel, but we arrive midtown ahead of schedule for our ‘walk’ up 5th Avenue. “Stay together,” Coach Delsole reminds the runners as they gather on the sidewalk off the bus. “If we lose you, there’s too much paperwork involved.” 5th Avenue via Rockefeller Center takes us up to 57th and Niketown for a short stop and some overpriced gear purchases. By 2:00pm, we’re headed north to Van Cortlandt and the course preview that is especially important to the new runners.
The relaxed Friday atmosphere at the course site always stands in stark contrast to what follows on Saturday. Our runners pile off the bus, soak up the atmosphere and head out onto the course. Laura stays behind, tests the sore muscle with a short jog on the flats and reports back. “Do you want to decide now or tomorrow?” I ask her. Tomorrow, she tells me—but we both suspect what the decision will be.
The runners return. After strides, they gather for the traditional group photo, then load up. The ride to the hotel is a short one, and Coach Delsole and I are impressed with the ease of our day so far. That’s a karmic mistake. We arrive to find rooms and room keys arranged for only a third of the team. They mill around the lobby while the desk clerk scrambles and I do a slow burn, reminding myself that it is not the fault of the clerk. I arrange a meeting with the manager later, and after an hour everyone’s in a room. Following a low-key and enjoyable team dinner at the hotel, the day ends without further incident. The room check comes at 10:00pm. Everyone is in.
The first thing coaches do in the morning of a Manhattan race is look out the window. In almost two decades of Manhattans, I have been greeted some mornings by cold, driving rain but others by uncomfortable, energy-sapping heat. This one’s perfect: clear and cool, with almost no breeze. The weather variable has been removed from the Manhattan equation.
We arrive at the site to the usual fanfare of buses, athletes and crowds. Once the bags are down and the team tent set in our usual area, the veterans bolt to the T-shirt concession where lines already rival the Porta-Jo
hns. Several team members get started on equipping runner bibs with safety pins. One tacks up the day’s race roster while the first squad heads out on their warm-up. This moment, when special trip becomes familiar meet, offers my first sense of relief. Now it’s racing, why we’re here. The excitement of the contests ahead is dampened only by the inevitable decision not to race Laura. It’s not a hard decision really; weighing the pro’s and con’s creates a lop-sided consideration, with far more to lose than gain. She’ll be a cheerleader today.
“Once we start the races,” I’ve told them. “You’re only going to see Coach Delsole and I at certain places.” Each squad has its captain whose responsibility is to get runners to the line in time for final preparations with Del. And they know where to meet me when they wobble out of the finish chute. Other than that, they are mostly on their own.
Race by race, our team members charge off. One group strains to the finish even as another is charging from the start across the flats. Van Cortlandt is historic, but not necessarily for its spectator visuals. While mass starts with a city silhouetted in the background is stunning, once runners disappear onto the graveled cow path, only the quick glimpse of them over the bridge into the back loop—if you can hoof up there in time--breaks the long wait. The greatest struggles of the runners, the most intense personal battles with fatigue, self-doubt and competitors provide drama in that solitary back loop for only birds and squirrels. But that---and the intensity of pace--is exactly why Vandy is such a trial by fire.
Many step up, running personal Vandy bests; a few falter. Unfortunately for us, several of those who falter are in the boys’ varsity race. The result is a poor team performance based on their potential. I’m not happy because I know how well the training has gone and I know the health of those runners--which leaves only the mental component. Someone once said, in effect, that fitness is 95% and the mental aspect only 5%, but since the 5% controls the other 95% mental is everything. Watching bad races also brings up coaching choices. Either wait and talk later or strike while the iron is hot and the experience alive in the mind of the runner. I speak frankly with the boys’ team while parents watch and later privately with one runner who underperformed. He has no immediate answer, so I’m hoping a later race analysis will provide one. And to the group at large after we board the bus for the long ride home, I say “from this point in the season, you will be racing mostly above the shoulders.” It’s another way of saying the same thing: make the 5% control your races, not sabotage them. We need everyone not only physically but mentally on the same page. We need that critical mass.
The value of a lost opportunity may still be realized. Other meets, now more critical, lie ahead…..
Week 7 – Always The Work
Monday
“What do you think about front-loading the week?” Coach Delsole asks. With no Saturday invitational and a non-Divisional dual meet on Wednesday, it was, I thought, already loaded with training intended to build into the pumpkin month. “They could do an L.A.T. after the hill circuits, maybe eight minutes instead of ten.” That’s Dell’s way of suggesting. Hill circuits made tougher with L.A.T. for dessert—that’ll be a rough Monday for the runners to digest. But they’ve improved steadily in their ability to absorb the work, and for some of them, Wednesday will not entail racing. “Sure,” I agree.
On the drive to work, the roadside foliage had presented a metaphor. The trees this fall are offering little dramatics, with no sudden bursts of broad-swatch colors that jolt the visual senses. Instead, just a slow, steady transformation to full color. Following solid but non-spectacular performances at McQuaid, both teams seem to be charting a similar trajectory. An improvement here, a step up there, additions out-numbering subtractions--building a season steadily week by week, experience by experience. It’s supposed to work that way, and the question is always the same—will it? We’ll know in November.
“None of the secrets of success will work unless you do,” goes the saying. So they work. The thousand meter hill circuit, a muscular figure-8 marker workout route over alternating easy and tough terrain, also allows honing proper downhill technique, which we remind them to practice. Right off, we spot some runners whose hearts don’t seem into the work--a Monday slump perhaps. One of the top runners is falling off the wagon—and I don’t consider it an option. “That’s not where you belong,” I quietly bark at him after the second interval. “That’s not where you can train. I want you up with the group.” He responds and ties for 3rd fastest average of the day.
There are other good moments. Following a low-grade but persistent illness, Abby is strengthening, clipping off the intervals thirty seconds faster than the previous month and running the third fastest average for the girls. Race-readiness will develop next. And it’s easy to lose track of runners further back in the pack, but this day Andy stands out. He’s jogging between intervals to recover, shepherding his group to the line in time and lopping 14 seconds off his previous average on the workout. Impressive stuff. The proof is in the pudding; the boys’ average 19 seconds faster on the circuits that they did in early September; the girls come in 21 seconds faster. Only three team members run slower averages. I have to hustle off early to serve on an educational panel discussion at LeMoyne College. Del has the L.A.T all to himself.
Tuesday
They’re in cross-country class today. Off the shuttle bus from the high school, I direct them into the large-group instruction room at the middle school and distribute results of Monday’s hill circuit workout. “Every workout tells a story,” I say, guiding them toward ‘the numbers’ for several runners. “Not to pick on anyone, but we’re family. It’s O.K. to critique each other’s performance in search of improvements.”
We look first at Lindsay’s good example of a ‘bookend effort.’ What I don’t mention is that she nearly threw up following the second interval, then doubled-down her efforts for the remaining three.
| First | Last | Watch | Ave. | Range | T. Time | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 9/5 Ave |
| Lindsay | 3:55 | 0:07 | 19:36 | 3:53 | 3:55 | 4:00 | 3:55 | 3:53 | 4:12 |
We briefly discuss Annie’s disciplined even-paced workout—though the question is whether she can push herself evenly at a faster pace.
| Annie | 4:14 | 0:04 | 21:14 | 4:13 | 4:16 | 4:17 | 4:13 | 4:15 | 4:47 |
Katie presents an interesting question:
| Katherine | 4:57 | 0:17 | 0:47 | 5:03 | 5:03 | 5:05 | 4:48 | 4:48 | 5:02 |
I draw my own conclusion, allowing Katie to set the record straight if she’s misinterpreted. “I’m going to guess that Katie was moving along under good control those first three intervals and then realized she had a lot more in the tank that she thought she would. So she stepped on it those last two.”
| Matthew | 3:37 | 0:31 | 18:05 | 3:22 | 3:26 | 3:35 | 3:53 | 3:49 | 3:43 |
And Matt’s work offer’s a special instance, one where I surmise that once you ‘fall off the wagon,’ running alone is tough—which happened to Matt. “There’s no one there to keep you psychologically sharp, so the negative messages can seep in,” I suggest. “You need teammates around you. Did I get that right Matt?” He merely nods.
Class dismissed, they separate into teams to discuss team goals, then head outside for warm-ups and drills, segmented general conditioning runs, strides and plans for the Wednesday dual meet. For me, tonight is another late evening, this time a meeting in Dewitt for Indoor Track representatives. Time flies.
Wednesday
Dual-meet race day. This one will not count in the divisional standings and simply adds another race to an already over-scheduled season. We could have kept runners in the meet and ‘assigned’ them paces, but as Nate correctly points out later, “It would have been hard not to race.” So our other runners will get an opportunity to carry the scoring and make the morning announcements at school; front-runners stick to the training schedule. The decision works.
There are a few exceptions. Laura needs the race to achieve the 6-meet rule for sectionals. Senior Day has also brought their expected requests to race that last home meet. This year’s twelve seniors have contributed a total of 44 varsity seasons, and there’s no way I’m going to deny those requests. Before the varsity races, they will also be honored for their commitment and traverse a symbolic final chute comprised of high-fiving, cheering teammates.
Most of our boys and girls front-runners have completed a hard, speed-tinged fartlek workout by the time the Baldwinsville teams arrive. The modified boys and girls teams both win their contests, with the boys modies still undefeated on the season for duals. Coach Wojtaszek has done some research at my request. Their impressive invitational winning streak dates back to 2008.
As expected, the boys get handled by the strong Baldwinsville squad, but our competing guys deliver a lot of excellent times and efforts. We’ll take the ugly newspaper box score in exchange for rewards down the road. The girls losing score is closer, but the rationale—and the result--is the same. Both will have their chances against B-ville later in the season.
Friends of Wildcats Cross-Country has erected multiple tents and put out a big post-race spread in honor of the seniors and the teams. Darkness descends amid the aroma of chilly and other goodies. The gas lamps come out. No one wants to go home.
Thursday
If it’s Thursday, we are at the high school. There is a regeneration run to be completed, weights to be lifted, drills to be conducted. But I arrive to note that the JV soccer players are setting up on the grass infield. I should have checked the sports schedule--game today. That changes things. While they complete warm-up laps, I mentally re-adjust the afternoon. The 1500m pace drill will come first, though I’d rather it follow the neighborhood run. That will get us off the track. We can substitute our leg drills for those we normally do in the stands and finish the track drills on the grass up by the weight-room door. We’ll make it work.
Friday
The fallen leaves crunch underfoot as we walk the training trails. Today, it’s into the Back Field for Bingham 800’s. This workout comes from the Bingham High School cross-country team in Utah and is simple and straightforward: 5-6 x 800 meters at a chosen pace(typically 5k goal pace) with a 1:1 recovery. We’ve used it for MVO2 enhancement, pace sense and as an effective marker workout to monitor progress. The fact that the Inner Loop of our course is 847 meters and with proximate enter/exit points makes for easier logistics. Throw in calm winds and rain-less skies, and you have the ingredients for a solid training day—assuming the athletes bring the mental mind-set for performing repeat 800’s over tough terrain.
And they do. Their mission—if they chose to accept it—is to find their 5k target on the pace chart, slide over to the 800 column and run that pace effectively through six 800’s. After the second interval, however, it becomes apparent that most aren’t interested in training that slow. The front group is rolling in 10-12 seconds faster. I’d shown Laura her average for Bingham’s at October’s end the year before—and she is about 13 seconds under those. But it isn’t just the front runners; some of the most impressive efforts are coming from our middle pack team members. Del and I station ourselves on the trail where we can monitor both the finishes and starts. The spirit of the work is contagious. We shout athletes up; they shout up each other. The boys’ front group is stuck like glue, separating out only on the last interval when Nate decides to finish harder. Their only regret is missing Jack, who’s home sick. Laura barrels across the finish on #6 and then, bent and gasping, declares it the best hard workout she’s had in a long time and expresses pride in her five second compression. Another runner, Hannah, had requested a move up in training groups before the workout, and she finishes eleven runners higher than her depth chart number would have predicted. With the last runners off the course, they mill around my car, taking water and changing to trainers for the remainder of the workout. When Del offers a group congratulations, they spontaneously applaud themselves.
Days like these are invaluable, not just for the training effect, but for the forged sense of common struggle and common purpose. You can see the effect in the relaxed smiles, the casual gestures and the hand slaps. Where all this good work takes us is yet to be determined. But with both a dual meet against F-M and the Manhattan Invitational on the plate next week, the set-up is just about perfect.
Saturday
E-mail to Jack:
Jack,
You're down one very good workout that you needed. If you are well enough today, you should get in repeat 800's, either on the track or trails. If not, rest and get in a quality long run tomorrow. If you do run intervals today, tomorrow would be a good shake-out GC.
Coach V.
Immediate e-mail reply from mother:
Hi Coach,
Jack is out doing the workout at CMS right now.
Have a good weekend
Week 6 – Test-taking
Monday, Monday. We are at the track because, as I remind the troops, it’s been a month since their last controlled tempo run and because the week presents no other feasible opportunity. Plus, the weather’s cooperative: seasonable temperatures with little wind--a good day for a tempo run. But after finishing our meeting for goal-setting, warming them up and starting their twenty minute test, I’m thinking I’ve made a mistake. I’ve asked them to run without watches, to sense pace and effort levels internally, but even the better runners are pattering along with their suspect interpretations of tempo pace. Coach Delsole and I, standing on opposite sides of the track, simultaneously start barking out our displeasure. It’s a lethargic looking bunch, I conclude, until we check the watch and make some mental calculations. Almost all have improved significantly since their prior track tempo. Still, for many high school runners(or at least ours), Mondays don’t seem the day for tempo precision.
Tuesday on the home course is a day of relaxed running and falling leaves, but by Wednesday the place is a three-ringed circus. The parking lot is stuffed with cars and buses for our dual-meet races against Central Square, a modified football game and soccer practice pick-ups. I’ve already coordinated with the football coach about our opening loop, which runs dangerously close to his playing field. For the soccer traffic, I took care of that problem years ago. I re-routed a section of the course circling those playing fields. That eliminated athletes meandering across our trail and, on game days, soccer parents annoyed at being told their lawn chairs sat right in middle of our 5k course.
At three, I race out of school and motor the Forester around the back trails, setting cones to direct runner traffic, scaring deer from the woods trail. The modified coaches erect the chute, I organize the score-table workers and we’re set to go. On schedule at four-thirty, Lou’s horn sends off the boys modified runners, followed twenty minutes later by their girls. I’m in the back field on my bike monitoring turns and runners, and it’s a good thing because a West Genesee girls pulls out near me in tears with knee problems. Immediately after, a Central Square girl halts, gasping with an asthma attack. After radioing in, I calm her enough to walk slowly back to the school area, where we meet her coach. By then, the varsity boys are completing their start-line drills, so I pedal over and offer a few words. Nothing much to tell them except to have their race plan firmly in mind and then execute. “And if Plan A doesn’t work, have a Plan B,” I say. “Let’s go.” With McQuaid only days away, we could attempt to dictate strategies and paces, but those complications could cost them more than the supposed benefits. Race smart, race controlled, I’ve said. Coach Delsole and I have not penciled in the Thursday/Friday workouts. We’ll do what the teams tell us they need tomorrow. I leave them to Del on the start line. Front-runner Kal is out with Pink Eye, so there’s opportunity for others to step up.
“There are no dress rehearsals,” my brother-in-law used to say. By the time they thunder past me at the mile mark, the boys are boring ahead like there’s no tomorrow, with two in front of the Central Square front-runner and two in hot pursuit. A following string of Wildcats surround several of their opponents as they charge up the back field hill. What strikes me as they wrap around and enter the inner loop of the field is their composure. Almost all our top runners are under control and moving confidently. The only exception is Ethan, who’s bothered by a sore calf muscle but still battling. As they exit the field, I bike to the base of Dirt Hill, a blandly named feature of the course which typically elicits more emotion that its name. Eight hundred meters out from the finish, Dirt Hill is too late in the race for strategic recovery, too early for a final push. It’s not long, just in a demanding place for runners. Ours have learned to love it.
“They’re at the hill,” I radio Lou as Nate and Mike, the day’s big surprise, approach. Jack and Will have closed on the Central Square #1, so I turn and bike up the connector trail, determined for once in my life to see a finish. I crest the hill just in time to watch those two push ahead into the third and fourth slots near the chute. A 1-4 finish without our lead runner is a good day’s work, and the athletes are rightfully excited with their times, two of which are course top-25 marks.
The girls’ performance is similar. Lindsay leads a lonely charge out front, and they take the first five places with a now familiar shake-up in the finish order. Today it’s Elise with a strong second place effort which lends additional evidence that their overall team strength continues to grow. Alycia, our senior leader, powers home in the fifth position and teeters down the finish chute. “Where are my girls?” she gasps, giving hugs all around. Still, there’s always something. Allie sits on the grass astride the chute, discouraged. “Both my feet went numb,” she explains woefully. We talk through several possibilities—posture, foot-strike patterns. Coach Delsole wanders over and listens to me for a moment before asking the question: “Are your spikes tied too tight?” It always pays to think of the obvious.
Saturday. Show time. I can say this: I seldom board a team bus following a major meet fully satisfied. Understanding what happens is one thing—like how an athlete can, for no good reason, eat grapes before a race and suffer stomach cramps that ruin an effort; or how athletes can fritter away the preparation minutes removing from their race flats the spikes they were instructed to take out the night before; or how others, not believing what the coaches have told you multiple times about big-meet realities, instead run with a dual-meet strategy that leaves them bogged down far back in the pack. Hang around long enough and there’s not much we coaches encounter from young runners that we have not seen or heard before. Understanding and appreciating, however, are two different matters.
Following some bus adventures, we arrive later than expected, which forces the girls JV runners into sped-up preparations. The others enjoy more time to investigate the course and soak up the atmosphere: masses of runners and spectators that some of the neophytes have yet to experience. It’s good preparation for those competing at Manhattan in two weeks.
The girls’ JV racers manage to make their start and negotiate the various loops and turns and shoulder-to-shoulder crowds that is McQuaid. The venerable Bob Bradley, former McQuaid varsity coach, race director and now announcer, stands on a platform mid-field like an orchestra conductor. Right on time, the girl’s varsity takes the gun for their large-school seeded race. By the time the front runners loop back around past the mile mark, I’m happy with at least one development. For her first major race since January--and in a field of exceptionally strong front-runners--we’ve given Laura no instructions other than to run a smart, hard effort. And that’s exactly what she does, racing as hard as her training allows and finishing top-10. Others can be disappointed if they want; I’m not. She’s still ahead of schedule. We’ve lost one of our top-5, sitting out with knee soreness, but the others also run strong. Our story-of-the-day is Lindsay, who finishes 18th for seeded schools with a monster PR. Later, she files her Race Analysis:
Race Strengths: I think I got a good start by getting out fast and holding a good pace the first mile, which helped me through the rest of the race. And even though you couldn’t see, I mentally tried to push myself harder in the second mile.
Race Weaknesses: I dropped back a little in the middle if the race.
Changes That Will Drive Improvements: Strides and hill sprints/rises for speed and turnover. Longer intervals for more race pace workouts.
I want to congratulate the girls for good efforts, but even as they are finishing the boys varsity runners have taken their start line positions and begun final preparations. I monitor them while Del is gathering up the girls competitors. Because of our split duties, I’ll see few—if any--finishes today. The boys’ line swells with late arrivals and by the gun, our runners are crammed shoulder to shoulder. The gun empties the gates, and they charged across the middle field. As they will report later, a few get swallowed up in the masses but work their way back throughout the race. Others take the risk and move out hard enough to find their proper positions. We don’t score the top-5 I was hoping for, but the clock provides smiles. Kal and Nate break 16:00 and all top-5 runners work their way into our WG McQuaid top-20 list. For good measure, the boys, like the girls, run the second fastest Wildcat team time ever, and Kal clocks the fastest 9th grade race of the entire meet.
By late afternoon, the final boys JV runners power home and another McQuaid is in the books. We all gather at the team tent for snacks and are joined by a large contingent of alumni who’ve traveled here in support. It’s a fine statement of what the program has worked to become, and they have a lot of fun exchanging memories. After we’ve struck the tent and made the early evening trudge back to the buses, any disappointments begin to ebb. The might-have-been’s have had their time; now it’s just the work ahead—and that’s what’s satisfying about this sport. We always have goals to be modified, objectives and strategies to be reworked. No matter what, the runners can analyze, plan and move on. There are first steps to be taken, no matter you’re starting point. Our athletes know this. We do too. Outsiders who see mostly results and not process sometimes fail to appreciate the resurgent opportunities offered athletes to either build on what’s good, or improve on what’s not. The door’s always open….
Week 5 – The Work
Practice
Over the weekend, I play a mental game. I imagine the season is over, team and individual goals accomplished, the glass full. Then I analyze backwards for what we did to get there—how competition was managed, which athletes were brought along as planned, which athletes pleasantly surprised us, and then how we fought against lackluster seasons and talked our best talks to divert disappointment or complacency. I conclude how important it was this season to pare down the element of chance but that chance, especially with young runners, is inevitable and makes its own demands. 
The rules must be fluid for working with young runners. Some need to be endlessly motivated, some need merely to be educated and directed. And a few, sometimes, finally need only to be left to the consequences of their determined choices. The stage erected for all that subtle drama is, of course, the training, the work. It’s all about the work then, isn’t it, I ask at the end of my mental game. Yup, I answer myself.
So Monday they are working. Coach Delsole and I had set up a training itinerary for the week, but on further review it appeared that Friday was overloaded, so I’ve shifted a short drill to today and made it the centerpiece around which other work will be wrapped. Following warm-ups, drills and a fartlek run, they perform our ‘shoes off’ strengthening drills on the school field, then group for the L.A.T.
“Ten minutes,” I tell them when asked. This could probably be called the short-and-sweet drill, only it’s not so sweet. It does, however, deliver a lot of bang for the buck, though we use it judiciously because of the anaerobic fatigue and byproducts that result. It’s a Skaneateles favorite, according to Del who previously coached there with Jack Reed. Thirty seconds ‘up’ at 1500/1600 meter-plus pace, then thirty seconds down as comfortable as possible. For some, this means an oxygen-gasping jog; for others, like previous state champion Bill Gabriel and his sidekick John Delallo, this meant little more than coming slightly off the gas pedal. The downs reveal as much of running character and resolve as the ups.
“The first thirty seconds is a down!” booms Del, holding his watch and whistle. Predictably, someone who is either over-enthusiastic or inattentive bolts on the first whistle and gets laughed back into place by the others. But then it’s all business. Up and down they go to Del’s whistle as I wander side to side, watching, cajoling and taking form shots to analyze later. This is the drill where a cold(we’ve had plenty of those) or an off-day is shoved into high relief and usually results in someone falling ‘off the wagon’ while silently praying down the number of ups. It’s also the drill where runners display hidden talents or determination. Lauren, today, stands out in that regard, leading her group and prompting anticipation of the added team depth when she parlays training efforts into race. Little do we know…
With the final whistle, they pull up, some slumping over, others with arms up for maximum oxygen retrieval. They dutifully grab the nearest cone used to mark out their L.A.T. oval and walk back to their team spot. The boys’ front wagon has stretched today but not broken. The front-runners for the girls had been spaced into several groups, but have run well. We’ll take this. Some put trainers back on while others sip water, then all set out on a general condition/restoration run. Day 1—a good one--is just about in the books.
A Meet
The team members board their respective buses, and we get off on time for an away dual meet against Auburn. With their home course under renovations, they’ve temporarily moved out of town to rural Everest Park, so we wend the upstate back roads to that site. In the mottle of fields and forests along the way, leaves are turning and birds are flocking in anticipation. The last color is draining from the field corn, and aside from hitting traffic through Skaneateles, it’s a relaxing fall preview.
The race site is equally scenic: open fields and woods framed against the tilted topography of the Fingerlakes. A reeded pond reflects blue sky. Even the athletes are impressed. As we exit the bus, I tell them: “Hey, this is why they call it cross-country.”
But the work is at hand and a tight schedule leaves little time for idle admiring. We hustle the boys out onto a course inspection and warm up while Coach Delsole and I check with the Auburn coaches to ensure our order of races.
The boys line up for an earlier 4:45 start. They’ve completed their final sprint-outs and wait, impatient. With an eventual whistle, they’re off, shooting across an open field and quickly disappearing around a block of trees. Emerging momentarily from an initial back and forth section, they plunge out of sight down toward the lake while I walk to the pond with spectators and parents. I’ve already found the girls team and warned them their start time has been moved up. Nothing to do but wait for the boys’ front runners to charge back into sight and hope that sight includes plenty of Wildcat blue.
Kal and Nate emerge up the hill first. Jack and Auburn’s lead runner are battling, followed by that string of blue I’d hoped for. A steady stream of runners passes the pond to the cheers of the crowd and then disappears into the upper loop. Not long after the final competitors pass the pond, the front runners circle back and take aim on the finish. Kal surges past with Nate close behind. Jack and his Auburn rival are still locked in a close contest, and as they aim up the tilted finish, Jack nervously checks over his shoulder until deciding to just put down the hammer and go. He claims third. It’s an automatic win, but the rest of the runners don’t care about that and charge up into the finish chute exhausted, legs wobbling from the burn on that final rise.
The girls are already on the start line and scream their teammates home. Then it’s their turn. With the start whistle, Laura shoots off, not interested in any challenges, leaving those to teammates. She commands a sizable lead over the Auburn front-runner on returning from the lower loop, with Lindsay and Sara racing the third and fourth positions. Five more Wildcats follow. Little changes around the upper loop except the distance to the finish. Laura circles the pond a final time and powers up the rise to claim an important victory on a tough new course. After all the trials of her injury and rehab, I’m thinking just two words: welcome back. The progression is ahead of schedule; she will be heard from this fall. And the youth movement continues, with freshman Sara running a strong final loop for third place and only two seniors in the team top-10. But one of them is our fifth runner Lauren. The girls mill around the finish area with family and friends, then group for their post-run and strides so they can get to the Friends of Wildcats XC tent for snacks and drinks. It’s been a productive day.
Our ‘Invitational’
On Friday, they arrive with their spikes, as instructed. They sit in a semi-circle under cloudy skies as I explain how the day’s training session will unfold: the warm-up, the tempo preparation, the interval route they will cover. It’s what we call Manhattan Miles because of the way the course approximates, in miniature, the historic Vandy circuit—flats to hills to flats. They appear relaxed, confident and ready for what is—since we have no Saturday meet scheduled--the real challenge of the week. “This is your invitational,” I tell them. “Bring your best.” It’s show-time.
Both Coach Delsole and I consider Manhattan Miles one of our favorites. From the start point atop the back field hill, we can watch them charge around the Outer Loop’s autumnal colors, then plunge up Dirt Hill, not to reappear 
before circling a figure eight of hills and descending the connector trail to complete the loop as we bark out times. This one’s on the clock, and the goals are both time and compression.
They jog into the back field and, preparations complete, arrange themselves into training groups. Del and I make some ‘adjustments’ to the groups and so issue unspoken challenges to several runners. The boys’ front runners signal a team member who’s been steadily improving in a lower group: “You’re with us today,” they tell him. The message is clear. With everyone in place, I send them off in thirty second intervals, each group instructed what to subtract from their final watch time. In my back pocket are results from the same workout run in previous seasons. I’m hoping they can approximate some of those times laid down by Federation Championship qualifiers but have set no targets other than to “run hard.”
And they do. The boys are all business. A ten second compression for the first mile shrinks to seven seconds on the second, then six for the third effort. Will, ‘invited’ up front for the workout, logs the 6th fastest average and is followed by Matt and Logan, both who have decided to make their presence felt in the team top-10. Everyone has been busting butt.
In workouts, I always enjoy upward surprises, and today those come in the form of a small squad of girls who leap-frog their averages above the training group ahead of them. 
Bridgett, Allison, Megan and Madeline feed off a group synergy that leaves Del starring at the stopwatch and smiling. Lindsay walks over after her miles to make sure we know she’s gone fifteen seconds negative from first to last interval. “I’m just letting you know,” she says with a smug smile. Up front, Laura had lopped almost fifteen seconds off her second mile. “Too fast,” she complained. “No it’s not,” I countered, knowing the times in my back pocket. She hammered the third, looking more and more like last November’s version. The big work done, they all load water bottles and extra shoes in the back of my car and head out for an easy run. We’ll crunch the numbers and sort the averages later, but it’s obviously been a good day. And they’re not finished. We meet them at the base of School Hill for sprints, short 8 second bursts for neuromuscular development. The sky clears while they churn up the hill and walk back down, jabbering and joking, already content with the day. Another short cool-down afterward brings them back into a full circle for leisurely stretches as a rainbow spreads its full arc to the east. A sign for the big competitive week ahead? We’re hoping….
Week 4 – Glass Half Full
The Beginning:
Monday, and the weath
er has turned cooler, offering hints of what’s coming. Let it happen, I say. Summer’s had its due; this is XC season.
Practice today is a medley of units. I talk from the tailgate during attendance, providing the outline for the week, explaining the differences between racing dual meets and invitationals. The vets have it down, but the newbies need reminding that not all races are created equal. Dual meets and league standings, I tell them, build race experience and tactics, please program supporters and, in the eyes of many, justify the sport. Invitationals are where individuals demonstrate big-meet excellence and where teams make their mark on a sectional or state level. Both will determine successful seasons.
What’s on the plate for the day? Well, there are uniforms to issue; there is planning to make the Wednesday dual meet run smoothly for both schools; there is the emergence of ‘foot blister issues’ with several runners; there is busing that has to be changed for this Saturday’s invitational meet. At some point, actual coaching may occur.
“Folks,” I tell them, “today you are going to do some interrupted running.” Blank stares. “That’s another way of saying segmented tempo runs.” I then explain the simple concept: 25 minutes of tempo-pace running over trails with short recoveries between 5 minute bouts. The stronger/faster runners are given 8, 8 and 9 minutes bouts. It’s just another way of getting at the same thing, and we don’t need the precision of the track for this work. They need, in fact, to feel controlled over trails because we may be asking some of them to do exactly that during Wednesday’s dual meet.
Del and I monitor the runners while we walk the Woods Loop, looking for overhanging branches to clip and inspecting the trail. The dry summer has eliminated a number of typically questionable sections. Albeit a little too compact under foot, the course is in the best shape we’ve seen for years. Times should be fast this season, something the athletes certainly won’t mind. The groups stride by as we walk and groom, offering opportunities for quick pointers about form or to merely inquire what percent of the work they’ve completed. We finish and return to the basketball court as the training groups pace in.
‘Shoes-Off’ foot-strengthening exercises follow on the playing field nearby. Team members drill and watch the modified runners cut a large circle around them on their whistle drill. This is a planned interlude between their tempo work and what’s next: hill rises. Several runners had been asking for them this past week. They get their wish. Del lines them up below the 120 meter rise while I wait on the upper end. I pull out my cheap Casio 30 fps camera and make quick movie modes of runners to check the form development we are working on. The theory is that hill sprints will enhance knee drive and transfer that into muscle memory. There’s the other side, however, where the inclines illuminate mechanical weaknesses. As they power up and jog down, the camera records both.
The Middle
No crisp autumnal weather for our dual meet opener. Summer has reasserted itself, and we order the runners into shade between their warm-up routines.
The boys toe the start line with a large crowd on hand by cross-country dual meet standards. As Del sends them off with the horn, I bike into the Back Field and watch the front group measure out the tempo pace prescribed for the day, hitting their marks at the one and two mile marks and running tightly grouped. I periodically radio the race progress back to Del and watch for any problems with the following runners. None, fortunately, develops, but I miss the finish which apparently provides an unofficial Wildcat record with a two second 1-5 runner compression.
With all the boys in, Del issues final instructions on the line for the girls’ runners, signals the backup timer, and raises the horn. The loud blast propels them off as I jump back on my bike and head into the field to monitor and report. They’ve circled the opening loop and gained the terrace above the softball field by the time I glance back. Exuberance has—at least initially—trumped the race plan; front-runner Laura is already ten to twenty meters ahead of the lead pack. She’ll settle down, I assure myself, and bounce down a back trail to set up in at Three Corners where I can watch the runners arc into the Woods Loop. Laura approaches, followed by a group of Wildcats. As she passes the next four check points, my question to her is the same —“How’re you doing?”—but her answer assumes an unsurprising trajectory. A comfortable “O.K.” at Three Corners becomes “Alright” at the mile mark, followed by a more informative “It’s hard” entering the Inner Loop of the Back Field. At the two mile mark she simply declares “I feel awful.” There is no answer to that. She’s running strongly at a consistent pace—although faster than planned. But after all the rehab of the spring and summer and then the set-backs, she’s earned at least awful while proving once again that nothing of any value in distance running comes cheap. Nothing.
The End
We arrive, finally, at Saturday. Along the way, and amid all the preparations for our first invitational, I’ve dealt with a personality conflict of dangerous potential and then quietly questioned another runner’s intent for what appears to be, day after day, ‘just showing up.’ In the back of my mind during that private conversation is the distinction Coach Aris draws between participating and contributing. Asked correctly, it’s always a fair question: why are you here? Sometimes young runners are not so sure and the dual loyalties of the coach—one to the athlete, one to the sport—are put to the test. This test, I sense, is going to end well.
Dawn finds us heading east to Vernon-Verona-Sherrill High School, needing extra time to wake and jog out the reconfigured course before mid-morning races. Off the bus at the site, we pick a team tent site, and athletes pull on extra layers. The cool weather has returned, and teams in the early races sport mid-season clothing. The girls team groups up and heads out for their warm-up and inspection of the course.
By 8:50am, they are in spikes and on the line for final preparations. Del directs the strides and sprint-outs. I leave with the five minute warning to take up position on the course. The new configuration allows multiple sightings of the runners and reflects the forward thinking of the VVS staff. For us, it’s a typical first-invitational effort. The new runners don’t quite know what to expect, and the vets are wondering how they’ll compare to other opening races. Twenty to twenty-five minutes later they know. As they gather outside the finish paddock, most are satisfied, some are not, and all are relieved. Baldwinsville runs an excellent team race to win handily. We finish second and several assumptions are validated. Of our top 8, four are freshman and two sophomores. Serendipity strikes as Cathryn, who ran 21st for the team against Oswego, leaps up to the 7th spot. Young and evolving—this team is going to be fun.
The poet John Ashbery once warned that “…seconds will call upon you…” The boys charge off in their Varsity II race at 10:10am, and by the time they pass me at the mile mark, their fate for the day has been largely determined. The seconds are piling up against them. Running against a strong and veteran Baldwinsville team, I had warned them at the line, “they will try to punch you in the face that first mile; they are going to take it out hard to see if you can stick with them.” After B-ville had placed their top 4 ahead of our #1, and while we grouped post-race and Del and I talked with various runners about their efforts, one offered the comment, “Coach, B-ville went out really hard in the first mile.” I sighed and told him he ran well.
And they had. With one of the top-5 racing sick and another off-form, others had stepped up and made efforts to compensate. They’d placed 4th in the 58 team merge. The race had provided a good baseline from which the season can build. The girls, too, had taken measure of themselves and found reasons for optimism. We told them later that they had a lot of work to do, but they both had a lot to work with. The glass is half full.
Week 3 – ‘Moments of Doubt’
It’s Labor Day—so they will labor. Circling back from weekend holiday events, all but a few converge on our summer Erie Canal practice site for perhaps the final time this season. To my thinking, they’re lucky. With the swirl of adjustments they’ll make to start school—new daily schedules, altered sleep patterns, the reintroduction of academic pressures—we decline to add a weekend invitational to the mix. This will be a training week. Racing can wait.
With the group gathered at tables under the covered pavilion that’s home-base when at the canal, Del and I lay out the week ahead, and then briefly reflect back to Friday’s time trial. Amid the considerable positives, a few things are bothering us. Several of the Race Analysis responses indicated runners disappointed with not responding well at key junctures of the time trial. We all know the situations: a competitor overtakes and passes you; a competitor uses a strategic surge and pulls away; your competitor simply holds a pace longer into a race than you think you can. These are the potential moments of doubt all runners sooner or later face, some more frequently than others. What do you do? How are you going to respond? More often as not, the response leads more to the character or attitude of the runner than to his or her physical abilities. We can train race responses. The will to respond comes from the runner. So it’s a good thing to have a runners irritated that they did not respond, that they allowed themselves to be passed or left behind. I talk to one of those after we complete core drills and prepare for the night’s tempo run. “Practice it in training,” I tell him. “When the moment comes to either push or fall back, make the decision to go. You can.” Thinking of that runner and others, Del warns the entire group about the dangers of allowing negative thinking to creep into races, creating foregone conclusions. His solution is simply: “Don’t do that.” They then churn off down the canal tow path on their three or four mile assignments.
Freed from the expectations of a Saturday race day, we slip into a comfortable hard-easy practice pattern. Tuesday, the mileage stays up, but the intensity drops with a variety of aerobic training. We end faster, though, with our ‘sticks’ drill where runners accelerate over a series of wooden sticks placed at increasing distances. Sticks are both prescriptive and diagnostic. Besides speed/turn-over development, it tends to bring form issues into high relief. For our freshman surprise, Sara, that means heel-striking. She tries to pendulum her feet down the increasingly spaced sticks and winds up looking like a majorette prancing out onto the football field for the half-time show. We all have a laugh about it, and I give her tips on changing form which she immediately adopts for a visible improvement—she’s a quick study. Following the drill, they’re off on a short cool-down as the Modified runners arrive for a late practice and bring the rain with them. We’ve timed it just right. The modies are not so lucky.
“You can only do what you can do,” Garrison Keillor once insisted, “but you’re responsible for that much.” In a way, that’s the tone of the week—get at it and do what you can do, do what you’re responsible for. They nail a hill repeat workout on Wednesday, with some comparing a similar summer workout almost a month prior. Lindsay pushes herself relentlessly, lopping almost 15 seconds off her previous 1000 meter interval average and over a minute on her accumulated time. For Bridgett and Alycia, it’s a ridiculous 20 second improvement on intervals. On the boys’ side, all of our top runners have dropped 10 or more seconds. Del doesn’t have to ask while I’m smiling to myself and offering up low-fives to the tired runners.
Following a Thursday at the high school for easy running, weights, drills and strides, we are back on the Camillus Middle School trails Friday for an advance to the mile distance in interval work. Following Wednesday/Thursday half school days, this is their first full dose of school, and that means waiting to see if the Sports Shuttle Buses will deliver all my runners on time and together. Glitches prevent that, but the two disparate groups are soon synchronized, warmed up and ready to go on our interval loop. The assignment is simple and relatively conservative: three miles, or approximately 5000 meters of work at 5k race pace in mile intervals. As groups form, Lou and I are quietly approaching several runners and talking moments of doubt. Specifically—practice the hard decision to, when necessary, go.
The warmish, humid weather moderates when the sun disappears behind clouds. The groups sequentially step to the line and surge off, disappearing down-trail around a curve, racing toward the woods loop they will navigate before circling home along the ou
ter loop of the back field. With the interval distance increased and the total recovery time reduced, we wonder how the runners will react. The boys’ front group is, in fact, hauling and all business, but a freshman foursome of Hunter, A.J., Dominic and Tom have also banded to push and pull each other through strong miles. They’ve been warned they will ‘pay their dues’ this first year, but it certainly looks like they don’t mind. “Are you sure this is a mile?” Del asks after listening to some of the interval times. “It’s a mile,” I assure him.
And it is, after all, a matter of accumulations. They’ve heard me say that again and again. Accumulated miles of training, accumulated seasons. There’s no way to rush the process, and the ‘ah-ha’ moments of elevated distance running performance are few and far between. Bill Aris of F-M stated it succinctly when suggesting that, in his highly successful program, “the process is the goal.” So true. There is, in the end, the work. And if you expect to succeed at distance running, you’d better love the work.
We’re seeing evidence of that. We’re seeing less doubt and more confidence. Work ably accomplished, the tired runners mill around the car, sipping water and logging the interval times we will use for analysis and future reference—another marker workout. They still have easy running and they still have core, but we already know this week’s ending on a high note. Del is a race guy who derives great pleasure from watching the runners he’s trained pop the big competition performances. But he stops as team members pace away on their cool-down run. “You know,” he asks, “how you say a great workout is sometimes as exciting as a great race?”
“Yeah?” I answer, wondering where he’s going with this.
“Well you’re right,” he says, smiling.
Week 2 – Time Trial
The week seems to pick up speed; time accelerates toward school’s opening—much to the relief of most parents. Our early week practices are filled, simply, with the work to be done: the conditioning runs, the tempo paces, the hills, the spots of speed. No complaints from the athletes. Heads are bent to the tasks at hand, and we use up all our allotted practice time. A runner I thought lost to other pursuits this season suddenly reappears in week two, and one that ran every day of week one goes AWOL this week. Another one e-mails to apologize for her absence the past two weeks; this runner must change school districts due to family issues. Adding and sadly subtracting—nothing surprises me any more.
The troops muscle through a hill circuit workout on Tuesday and return to the high school Wednesday morning to continue weight lifting and strength drills. Thursday they run the course at a conditioning pace, followed by more drills and some fartlek. Friday’s coming, and I remind them not to overdo the fair.
One of the local objective hazards to safe training in upstate is the New York State Fair. Section III runners seeking walking-around-money get jobs there and stand on their feet for hours after—or prior to—practices, ensuring dead legs. Team members, of course, make annual fair pilgrimages in order to—among other things adolescent--test their gustatory toughness with the likes of blooming onions, fried dough and God knows what else can be rammed on a stick and deep fried(old trainers?). We can only counsel restraint and count the days till the curtain falls on the Great New York State Fair.
Soon enough, Friday does arrive and that means the Blue-Gold Championship, our team course time trial and a first glimpse of runners at race-pace. We use our annual 5k trial on the home course to check race-readiness and readjust training groups. More importantly, however, the trial provides a preview/review of meet procedures for team members. Of course, that doesn’t stop them from hyping up a rivalry with shirts and team cheers. One alumnus, an eventual two-time All-American relay member in track, told me his only running regret at WG was never racing on a winning Blue-Gold team.
Del and I arrive about 7:25am and begin set-up chores: haul out course equipment; set cones for the starting loop; put up tables and unload scoring equipment. It’s done by the time all the runners have assembled at 8:00am. We walk to the basketball court, and remind them of the essentials: manage your time so you arrive at the line on time for final preparations; warm up all your energy systems properly; have a good race plan and—most importantly--execute. As I instruct the non-racing ‘pit crew’ on their various timing and recording jobs, Del gathers the runners on the start-line for sprint-outs to get heart rates up. By 8:45am, they are ready to go, so with a small and enthusiastic crowd of parents gathered nearby, Del sounds the horn and they shoot out. The 2012 competitive season is under way.
I bike into the back field to exhort the runners and shout out one/two mile splits while Del manages the finish. Our field has already burst into its annual presentation of goldenrod, a feast for the eyes unless you suffer the wrong allergy. Exiting the woods loop near the mile mark, Kal and Nate have opened a slight gap on Jack, Ethan and 
Mike—which is not the race plan. The outer and inner loops of the back field do nothing to close that gap, but as they plunge back into the woods on the reverse loop, Will is advancing through the following pack, picking off teammates at a steady pace, racing a huge chunk of time faster than his previous year’s trial. A 2011 mid-JV runner until Manhattan, Will had then won his Big Apple JV race and finished in the team’s top-7 during subsequent championships. He is already ahead of that schedule this season—another good sign—but his teammates are conceding nothing, and Will sees only the backsides of Kal, Nate, Jack, Ethan and Mike across the finish. Our team depth has begun to emerge.
With Laura completing an alternate run and Lindsay on the precautionary sidelines with a sore hamstring, the newcomers and other girls’ veterans take center stage. They’ve run the summer miles; they’ve lifted weights, done the drills, then pushed hard in our pre-season team practices. Now is the first opportunity to bring all that together--and despite what we’ve seen and surmised, everything is yet to be proven and it’s still just possibilities and potential. “Hope had kept him going, but it was the doubt that gave him joy” Christopher Tilghman wrote of one of his short story characters. Watching the girls race unfold, I have to agree. Sometimes the not knowing is the most exciting part of coaching.
Five kilometers later, however, we know a lot more. We know that newcomer Sara is the real deal. Pacing with the girls front group through a conservative first mile, she moved in front on the back field’s outer loop and took honors for the girls at the finish line. We know that sophomore Elise, close behind Sara, has everything it takes to become a major team competitor--and top sectional runner. We know that Alycia, running a minute and a half faster than her 2011 time, is bringing the senior leadership the team needs. And we know that Eva, with a 5th place finish for the girls, is going to impress both teammates and competitors alike this fall. The girls’ team is clearly a work in progress, but progress is not in short supply.
Still, when they return from their twenty-minute post run and strides, there remains an admixture of relief, satisfaction and disappointment etched on various runner faces. “Spend time with the Race Analysis I will e-mail you,” I tell them when we assemble in the school cafeteria. “Make a plan for improvement, then put this race--whether good or bad--in the box, close that box and move on.” With all the aromas of brunch food wafting from the nearby tables(courtesy of our Friends of Wildcats parents), it’s not hard tell what really holds their attention. Time for food….
Photo credits: Coach Vermeulen/Fred Leff
Week 1 – Opening Week
Monday:
8:00am. While Coach Delsole(“Del”) and I chatted about the season’s inaugural team practice, the runners meandered up in adolescent clumps to take seats on the grassy slope abutting the Camillus Middle School gym. What Del and I recognized immediately was that neither of us had uttered a single “who’s that” to any approaching team members. A good sign. The success of our well-attended voluntary summer team runs was again validated. With the group assembled, we moved inside to the cafeteria for paperwork and introductions via attendance. Team member Nicole sharpened pencils for their summer training questionnaires while I launched into some comments. “You will be judged,” was one of them. “Coach Delsole and I will judge you. Teammates will judge you, competitors too. It’s the nature of the sport. It’s life. Coach and I will know—if we don’t already--what you are capable of accomplishing as runners. That is what will be judged—how well you fulfill your potential.”
I then asked who knew what a meritocracy was. Blank stares met the question until Nick bailed me out with a spot-on definition. We covered the respect-for-talent territory, with its attendant danger of ruffled feathers should freshmen eclipse seniors. Our teams have seldom dealt with that problem, but the potential always exists. As I passed out papers and the troops penciled their summer training achievements, Del openly admired the talent on both squads but added a warning that, depending on how we all worked together, both teams could be either really good or merely average.
We had laid our cards on the table and talked long enough. Del’s famous(or infamous) repertoire of jokes, puns and double entendres would be parceled out later at the appropriate moments. Paperwork submitted, the runners emptied out onto the back school grounds to do what they had come to do: train.
Tuesday – Thursday:
How easily these groups--who had already practiced 3-4 days a week together all summer--dispatched the jobs at hand.
There was a 3000 meter time trial on Tuesday to check fitness levels and allow us to more effectively group runners for training. During that, a suspicion was confirmed. With Laura following her alternate training schedule--one that did not include a hard 3000 meter effort--Lindsay took over the lead chores. The next three runners across after Lindsay, however, were freshman: Bridget, Annie and Sara. Del’s nod in my direction as each crossed the line said it all. The same held true for the boys when freshman Kal finished first. Youth will likely be served this season for the West Genesee Wildcats.
There was a Wednesday of solid aerobic work, a mixture of general conditioning run and fartlek that reacquainted team members with our trails and led to the discovery of a hornets’ nest the size of a basketball astride the inner loop of our back field trails. Certainly, that’s going to end badly—for the hornets.
And there was a tempo run Thursday on the track. We wanted precision; we wanted the runners to hit dictated targets and for the newcomers to acquaint themselves with this most difficult of dances along the aerobic cliff. Tempo conducted properly is an acquired taste, maybe the most difficult training form for high schoolers to master--which is why some coaches don’t even bother trying until those younger runners mature to upperclassmen. Someone, however, forgot to deliver that suggestion to freshman Kal, who teamed with Ethan and clicked off laps with metronomic pace. Standing midfield, Del and I scanned it all—who was capable of staying ‘on the wagon’ of their group, who threw in the towel and fell back. Who ran with an asymmetrical arm-swing, who evidenced, even to the naked eye, pronounced heel-striking. All important information. So many runners believe they practice in anonymity, unaware of how much ‘data’ they present to any coach willing to observe and note. We note a lot.
Friday:
The indomitable Maime Trotter once told Gilly Hopkins: “Nothing to make you happy like doing good on a tough job.” Great team races are, indeed, the grand goal of the season, but it’s the great team practices that make those days possible, and doing good on a tough job is what makes great practice days among the best moments of any season. Del and I didn’t have to tell them they were doing well on their 5x1000 intervals. It was early morning, but they were feeling it, pushing their intervals, staying strict on recovery times, pumping each other up on the start line of our picturesque back field loop.
We didn’t need the watch numbers to know. Catie elected to move to a faster group; Lindsay moved up also toward the end of her workout because she wanted the challenge of a chase. The boys’ front group started out hammering and never stopped. As planned, they pulled on racing flats for the last two intervals and churned off the line, intent on compression. It was impressive stuff for early season, and though the ‘data’ later would reveal a tight four second #1-5 spread on their interval averages, we didn’t need the numbers to know it was a very good day. Gathering themselves up after going negative in their final interval, they exchanged hi-fives. Del and I just smiled. We didn’t need to tell them anything.
Coach Jim Vermeulen, West Genesee Varsity Cross-Country