Chapter 11: You Are Only As Good As Your Next Race

During the Monday meeting, Mr. Newton went over the race and complimented those of us who deserved it. As usual, he was serious on some of those things, but then a joke would come out of nowhere.  “----, You’re as useless as ---- on a bull.” That was one of his favorite sayings. It would be a way of saying that you were not pulling your weight, but he would always say it with a smile on his face. Whoever was getting the zinger knew it was coming if they looked at their performance from the last race.

Newton was also true to his word. “It does not matter what you ran on Saturday,” he told us. “The race on Thursday at Downers Grove will decide who will run at Peoria this Saturday.” We were hoping that he would have forgotten that. He didn't.

We did not need incentive to get up for the next race. The rankings that came out on Tuesday had us moved up to #4, but Glenbard West was still ranked ahead of us at #3. We could not figure it out, nor did we want to. We scored 49, they were in third with 87. Jeff Hill finished 16th at county. We all knew that he usually ran with his teammate, Steve Pugsley, who finished second on Saturday. They were going to be ready for us.

The one thing that pissed us off was a quote from the Willowbrook coach, Jim Tyree. He told the papers that he thought that his team should have beaten us. He thought that Glenbard West was the one to beat in that race. But he ended the quote by stating: “You always have to take York seriously.”

We took everyone seriously. We knew it would take only one bad race to knock us back down. We felt that we could run with any team in the state, but it was not going to be easy.

Getting out-kicked at the end of the race Saturday still weighed on me. I know after all of our workouts we would run 20 x 110s in pairs. Henry and I would always run together. I know he had better finishing speed than me so trying to stay with him in those 110s was something that I had to do better with. At the end of the mile intervals on Monday, those 110s were the hardest things that I had ever run. It just was not our pair, but everyone else had the same intensity.

We loved running together which made every success that much better. We did not have the talent that other teams had, but our work ethic, we believed, was the best in the state.

It was overcast when I woke up on Thursday morning. The triangular would be at Fairfield Park in Downers Grove. None of us had run on the course so we did not know what to expect when we got off the bus. The one thing that we knew was that the temperature had dropped during the day. When I went home for lunch, I dug out my gloves, hat, anything to keep me warm.  When we got off the bus, it was drizzling. Terrible conditions, but conditions that we lived for. We trained in everything so getting wet did not bother us.

I think it is always a good thing to have a little fear in your heart before you race. It keeps you honest when the gun goes off knowing that anything can happen. We knew Glenbard was a tough team. They would have been tougher if they had Morgan Dempsey. He had been one of their top sophomores. When he got to track, he was running mid-4:20s in the mile and times in the 1:56-1:57 range in the half.  He also had a beard. A full beard. It was not a patchwork beard. We kind of questioned if he we was our age. He got the nickname “The Bearded Wonder.” How could someone so young have a beard that good? At the end of the summer, his family moved to Arizona. He would have made Glenbard a tougher team.

The weather was flip-flopping between drizzle and mist as we got to the starting line. All I know is I wanted to race and get back into my sweats. It was bitter when the rain and cold hit my legs. When the race started, it did not matter.

The course was a one-mile loop. They told us it totaled 3.5 miles … the times that we had looked more like 3.3 miles. Glenbard got out to a great start. We could tell Hill was not happy with his County race as he stormed to the lead. Next was Pugsley and his teammate Jay Lehman. Then came our pack. I saw those three Glenbard uniforms ahead of me and knew that if they took the first three places, they'd win. I felt good and decided to go after them. Hill had a big lead as we got to the mile.

I had passed Lehman and was with Pugsley. As we approached the mile, there stood Glenbard West Coach Jim Arnold on the side. He would always wear this fishing cap flopping all over his head. We thought at times that the hat was wearing him. There was no love lost between Glenbard and York. There was no love lost between Newton and Arnold.

As we passed him, he yelled out at Pugsley: “Don’t let that York turkey pass you!”

That did it.

Under my breath, I said, “F--- you, Arnold.” If he wanted to get me mad, he succeeded. There was an energy that I found that I did not know I had. I wanted to catch Hill so bad. I know I was not in the same class as him, but I wanted to show Arnold that I was not a turkey. There was a wooded section on the course where I did a pick-up. When I entered that area, I was with Pugsley. When I got out of there, I was with Hill. Race on.

I had never been in that situation before. One on one. For the next mile, I just stayed stride for stride with him. In my head, I knew he had a better kick than me. He ran 4:20 last spring in track. I was lucky to break 4:40. 

We went by the two-mile and passed Arnold again. He did not say anything. I was hoping he would have. In my mind, the thought came through. “Come on Arnold. Piss me off some more!” I honestly did not need that incentive. I was focused in the race.

We came out of the woods and there was Newton going crazy. The pack of Willie, Henry, Wags, and Heds had gotten closer to Pugsley. We had the team race won but there was some unfinished business.

I surged a little to see how Hill would respond. He stayed right with me. At every turn, I would make a little burst, but Jeff was experienced enough to know what I was doing and stuck with me. The final turn on the course led to a 500-yard straight to the finish. I made the turn and put my head down and just put it into another gear like I did at the end of workouts. Hill was staying with me, but we were both breathing hard.

I passed former York runner Gary Goss. He was a fixture at every York meet. He was a very quiet man. I passed him with 300 yards to go and he was jumping up and down and yelling. I had NEVER seen him react like that. This race must be important.

With about 100 yards to go, Hill made a move that I could not react to. I tried but his burst got me. He held up his finger signifying that he was #1. I was a second behind him. He turned around and shook my hand. We were both exhausted but smiling. “Great race Newms,” he said.  “Great race Jeff,” I replied.

The people that were running the finish line wanted us to move through the chute. I wanted to see my teammates finish. Pugsley came in. Then five seconds later, a sea of York green. Lehman was four seconds back. Then came Freegs and Rags. Seven in before their fourth. We won the meet 24-35 over Glenbard. We defeated Downers North 15-50. Newton exclaimed to us afterwards that it was the greatest dual meet victory in York history. We felt that. As we cooled down, the rain started to fall a little harder, but our attention turned from that meet and started to look at Peoria.

Friday was an easy, short day. We had 6 x 220s and rushed home to change. I had packed a lunch in my overnight bag for the trip down to Peoria. We would leave school at 5:30. Get to the hotel and go to sleep. It made for a busy day.

I was looking forward to Peoria badly. Before leaving for school that morning, I told my parents that after that race on Thursday, there was no reason that I should not be up front on Saturday. My parents were supportive. For me, I was riding on a huge ego trip. I forgot the fact that I should keep my feet on the ground. I forgot that I was only as good as my next race. I let the fact that I ran one good race go to my head. I was about to learn an important lesson of leaving your last race behind you.

We took two station wagons down to Peoria along with Mr. Goss and his little car. We were assigned where we would be sitting in each of the cars. It was the same thing when we got on the bus. We were assigned seats and we had to stay in them. Also, on the trip down and back, we would have to wear suits. We could not take the coats off on the way down. Look classy. Run classy. We were representing ourselves, our school, our team.

The one thing that I did is brought my tape recorder with me. Here was one song that I wanted everyone to hear. As we pulled out of the York driveway, the song “In the Mood” played from it. Not by Benny Goodman or Frank Sinatra or Glenn Miller. How about the Henhouse Five Plus Two. The song is done with chickens clucking. I was in the car with Jim Dunham. He was a parent that had a son, Tim, that had graduated and a son, Pete, who was a freshman. Mr. Dunham just started to laugh, so did the rest of the car. Rags was sitting up front and said, “Enough Newms. Turn it off.” It was a good laugh. It started a tradition with the team. The next year, I would be in Newton’s car for the two Peoria trips. He wanted to hear that song that Dunham had told him about. I thought he was going to crash because he was laughing so hard.

We got to the hotel and checked in. I was rooming with Henry. My mom made Banana Bread, which Dave and I worked on before there was a knock on the door. Mr. Newton was doing bed checks. He went over when we would be getting the call to wake up for the morning run and other specifics. This was our first time on a team trip. We had traveled to the post-season national meets the previous two years so we kind of knew the routine. We went to sleep quickly.

On race morning on Saturday, we got up and went across Route 88 to Donovan Golf Course for our morning run. Mr. Newton told us not to wear any York stuff and stay away from the club house. Apparently, we were not supposed to be there. Fifteen minutes later we were back in the hotel room showering and getting ready for breakfast.

Henry got in before I did, making me rush a little more. Our breakfast was simple. It was similar to what I was eating at home before a meet, so it did not make things special. Cup of tea, toast, oatmeal, and water. There were a few jokes flying but everyone was mostly quiet. After breakfast, we walked around the hotel for a few minutes just to loosen our legs. There was one thing that was troubling me. My left hamstring seemed to be a little tight. I passed it off on the trip down and tried to ignore it.

Our team meeting was in Mr. Newton’s room, where we went over race strategy and other business. The Peoria Invitational is the original Peoria meet. Now there are three meets that take place at Detweille Park that allow most of the teams to experience that course. Everyone wanted to run on the state course. There was only one race: Boys Varsity at 11:00 a.m. We knew this was going to be a tough meet. The top two teams in the state, Fremd and Maine East, were the chief competition. Everyone was still a little tired from Thursday's race, but none of us wanted to admit it.

We got to Detweiller at 9:20. We walked to the finish line with a measuring wheel and started walking back from the finish line, measuring out what each distance was. We got to 600 yards out and we stopped. Newton told us what would be happening etc. at that point. We were all quiet and listening. Mr. Goss came back with our number packets and our box assignment. There were 44 teams in the meet. We got Box 8. As we were putting the numbers on our uniforms, Newton pulled us all together. “Men, we are in Box 8 on the inside. If we go straight out, we will get gobbled up on the first turn.”

He paused for a second.

“When the gun goes off,” he said, “We are going to take a thousand and one.” It meant we would stand at the line at the start when the gun went off. After everyone else rushed off, we were instructed to veer right so that we would get over to the outside. You have to have nerves to do that. You also had to have the confidence that you would be able to make up the distance that we lost at the start. The '77 team did it and it worked. Why not now?

We got our warm-up in. Spikes on. Headed to the line. We did six 110s from the line. We paused before each one and then went straight out. We did not want anyone to know our strategy.  Newton asked us if everything was okay with it and we just nodded our heads. Each of us was already in the race.

There were 305 runners one the line. Anyone who has ever run at Detweiller knows the importance of getting around that first turn cleanly. If you do, the positive effect of making it around hits you. If not, you are bugs on the grill of a car.

The gun went off and everyone took off … except us. "Thousand-one" and we veered to the right. My ego kicked in as we got closer to that curve. I should be closer to the front I thought. I saw an opening and I went for it. It is so funny how an opening can close so quickly. I shuffled around the curve. There, on the outside, I saw my teammates go by me. Stupid, stupid ego.

Our pack went through in a slow 2:25. He wanted us by in 2:22. The leaders were near 2:18. I was at 2:30. I had a lot of work to make it back to the front. We got to the mile in about 5:00. I had caught up to our pack at that point. I know it was only five minutes, but it felt like it was the hardest that I had run. Running with teammates would have made that feel easier. Newton was near the beginning of the entrance to the triangle. “You guys need to move!”

That we did. It is such a great feeling to pass people, but we knew that Maine East and Fremd were ahead of us because of the great start that they got. Coming out of the triangle, I felt horrible. That extra energy that I had used to catch up was hitting me at that point. Along with that, my hamstring did not feel that great. The last 880 was the worst. I was the sixth man at that point. Newton told me I was in 30th. The pack was ahead. I passed three runners at the end to move up to 27th overall. Fremd had four runners ahead of our second runner, Rags, who was 12th. Willie was our first man, ninth. Then Heds, Freegs, and Henry finished 18th through 20th. Wags was behind me, 39th.

We went back to the team area and got our spikes off. Newton was not happy to say the least.

 “Hurry up and get your flats on. We still have a workout that we need to do,” he told us. Yes, there was a workout after the race. It was a 2-Mile cool down/warm up. We then did 8 x 440s. Everyone was watching us. Before we started, he looked at the pace charts and told us that we went out way too slow. We were 69 at the quarter. He told us we needed to be at 66 if we wanted to get out in a good position. So off we shuffled to the starting line. Newton was hoping to get this in before the awards started. We knew we did not win. We were upset. We just wanted to go home.

Each quarter, my hamstring was hurting more and more. I was not going to say a thing. No excuses on this day. I just had to suck it up. It hurt. We were near 67 on each of the 6 quarters. The last two none of us had anything left. We were lucky we were near 70. Newton did not say anything. I think he got his point across to us. We knew we would have to do that workout after the race. It would have been easier if we had run well.

We finished third. Fremd 61. Maine East 63. York 78.

Newton was not happy with third. That was until he saw the results. Our split on one to five runners was only nine seconds. I was only five seconds behind the pack. We got to the hotel and quickly changed into our suits for the trip back to Chicago. He told the press afterwards, “When I first saw Fremd and Maine East come through, I thought we blew it. But looking at the results, baby, we’re still in there.”

He told us the same thing as we were having lunch. “Keep your heads-up men. We have a lot of work still to do.”

I was down. I let my individual goals overshadow what was best for the team and I was killing myself because I had been so selfish. There were no jokes during lunch. We were pretty quiet thinking ahead. The trip home was quiet. A lot of tired guys sleeping. No Chicken tape. No “In the Mood.”

When I got home, my parents tried to talk to me. I just went to my room. I had homework but that was going to wait until Sunday. When I heard my parents go upstairs, I went to the freezer and found an ice pack that my dad had used for a bad back. Under my left knee it went. I was having trouble walking when I got out of the car after the trip from Peoria. I was going to keep it quiet. I had worked too hard and come too far to let some stupid hamstring injury prevent me from running at state.

I could not let my teammates down. I could not let myself down.