Thrills of being the lone master in the race
When people ask me where to find a race, I frequently suggest checking with their local college for an open meet. The big fear of many masters, however, is that competing with collegians is a recipe for humiliation and embarrassment. To that I reply: Be not afraid. I wasn’t afraid Saturday, and it was fun!
Over the past six or seven years, I’ve annually entered one or two races at the Triton Invitational, formerly called the UC San Diego Spring Break Open.
This year, I skipped my usual season-opening 400 and entered the 1 and the 2. I was the only sprinter over, say, 32. I’m 50. But my times weren’t twice that of the kids, so I was happy with my marks — both of which were clocked into a wind.
But that’s not what made the meet a joy. It was the crowd.
In the 200 — in the seventh of seven men’s heats and 14th of 14 heats overall after the women ran — I found myself in a match race with Arnold Cantong of Alliant International University, normally a distance man. He may be in his early 30s.
That heat was supposed to have six entrants, but with five minutes till the gun, nobody had shown up ‘cept me. Oh joy. A solo run. When Arnold arrived, and hurriedly threw on his spikes, I said aloud: “Oh, no. I was gonna win the heat!” Somebody alongside the track heard me and said: ‘Have faith!’ ”
Then I went over to Lane 7 and wished Arnold good luck. We shook hands, and he replied: “Thank you, sir.”
Deflated again.
Arnold had submitted a seed time of 25.03 (which I first ran as a high school freshman), so I had hopes that the race wouldn’t be a blowout. In fact, my goal was to beat the slowest time recorded in the women’s races — something over 29 seconds.
So I got into my blocks in Lane 3, blasted off — and tore around the turn into the homestretch. And heard something amazing and delightful.
Cheers.
And applause, and more cheers. It lasted the whole final 100. And I doubt they were for Arnold. Several hundred folks in the concrete bleachers were applauding and yelling for a skinny, balding slowpoke in black shorts.
Made me keep my form. Didn’t want to be a bad role model.
I finished the race in 28.72 seconds. That’s more than a second slower than I had run two weeks earlier. My 100, also wind-afflicted, was 14.10. (I ran 13.42 at Santa Ana on April 10.)
After the 200, I caught up with Arnold and told him I was 50. He said: “I hope I’m still running when I’m your age.”
Slight deflation. But also elation. He was being respectful and admiring.
That’s what you can expect when you enter a college open meet.
Be not afraid.
5 Responses
Ken
I was a witness to your gret prowness on the track. The crowd really inspired me as they cheered for you.
I was there running on a 4×400 relay with some of my training mates. You know them. We got second in the 2nd heat and I opened the relay for our team with a 50.6. I heard the announcer say that we were a seniors team. It really got the youngsters fired up. Some of them made little sarcastic remarks, but it’s all good. I am very appreciative being respected as just one of the open competitors. After the race, one of the sarcastic critics approached me and said “dam you can run”. I just smile at him and said
“Never Sleep on the Masters”.
Running with the youngbucks is the only way to put yourself Out there and do something spectacular! Channel that fear of embarrassment into a higher performance.
two pennies worth
Great story, Ken. Just four weeks ago I experienced the same scenario.
I train at Willamette University, an NCAA Div III school in Salem, Oregon. Every year they host a big invitational meet with schools from all over the Pacific Northwest, including Alaska, participating. One of the Willamette sprinters I ocassionally train with suggested I enter the 100 this year. Twenty years ago I would not have hesitated but at 64 I had second thoughts. After much thought and wondering if my ego would withstand a trouncing, I finally realized that this is not a profession and life is too short to pass up an opportunity, I entered the meet.
Like in your situation, my oldest competitor was probably not more than 24 years old. Mingling with the “kids” at the starting line, I felt an energy flow that you don’t usually feel at a Masters meet.
While I was warming up for the 100 I did get “the look” or “double takes” from some of the athletes who were warming up for the same event. I ignored them and thought to myself “Don‚Äôt judge a book by its cover”. One competitor actually called me “Sir” which took me by surprise because when you are down on the playing field mingling, you tend to feel like an equal part of the atmosphere.
When the gun went off I jumped to an early lead and held that lead for about 30-35 meters. That‚Äôs when the crowd in the stands came “alive” with encouragement. And then… youth took over.
At the end of the race, one of my young competitors came over to me and shook my hand and said “nice race”. It felt good to be recognized for what I had just done, and I thanked him and congratulated him also. And then it dawned on me what I had achieved. My goal was to run under 12.85 (a good early season time for a 64 year old), beat at least 1 person, have fun, and gain a little respect for the “older” generation.
How do you measure success? I ran 12.76 into a head wind, which was good enough not to be last. I didn’t tell the one kid I beat how old I was because I was afraid he might give up track. I did get lots of vocal support from the stands. Somehow they figured out I was an “underdog”. (Do you think it was the gray hair….?) So, since I was the only athlete over 24 years of age, I probably gained some respect for the older folks. And above all, I had fun!
Then it was time to change clothes and get back to “work” setting up the starting blocks for all the new generation athletes. I always enjoy helping them adjust their blocks and then offering encouragement just before the race begins, no matter what school they are from. Maybe in years to come they will remember the old guy who took an interest in what they were doing and will be inspired to do the same.
1,500 meter race at Miami University Invitational, Oxford, Ohio.
Rich Ceronie, head coach of Miami Women’s Track and Field Team had talked me into running my first-ever outdoor 1,500. As a forty-something, beginning masters runner I was a little hesitant.
I had been learning that some college meets are invitationals, where anyone can sign up and compete with the college athletes. No other college sport that I can think of does this as part of its business as usual. Can you imagine the Miami University football team allowing me to play quarterback for a series of downs? Or how about the basketball team giving me a few minutes at point guard? It just wouldn’t happen. Track and field can get away with the invitational because it’s an individual rather than an interactive sport (except for the relays). And, in fact, many invitationals attract graduated, unattached athletes who are as good if not better than the college participants. This wasn’t my case, obviously, as my first thought was that I’d rather run with the women than the men.
I lined up for the “slow” heat of the men’s 1500. The gun went off and there I was—alone again as the 13 college studs took off like greyhounds after the electric bunny. Once again I was in a race against myself. My goal was 5:00, which works out to be about 80 seconds per lap for three laps and a 60 second 3/4 lap to finish it off. I got to work. It was very hard not to try to stay with the pack but I knew that would be suicidal. Even still, my first lap was 72. Yikes! Slow down. On the second lap my arms felt as if they were going to fall off. No one told me about this feeling. But I made it in 81 so I had seven seconds to spare. As expected, the third lap was a killer. I love the third lap because it’s where everything in life happens. Face it: the first lap of any project is easy. Everything is new and fresh. You’re like a kid in a video game store. You’ve got lots of ideas, lots of good feelings, lots of possibilities. The second lap you need a bit more focus; you start to prepare, you do a little work, but still not too bad. The third lap is where character is tested. The project can begin to get hard; you can begin to lose sight of why you started in the first place. You can get bogged down in the dark side, seeing all of the reasons why you shouldn’t continue. This is where the little voice of bliss has to pull you through.
As I came around the turn to begin my final 300 meters, I heard Coach Ceronie yell, “You’re right at four minutes. Get going. Pump those arms.” No way. I couldn’t have slowed down that much. I was pissed (I found out later from one of the Miami women runners that I was actually at 3:57, an 84-second third lap). I think Coach was trying to create the urgency. Good move, Coach, because the anger helped me refocus. I Revisited. I dug up the gas I had left. I was able to hold on and finish in 4:57 with a 60-second final 300 meters.
After the race, I rewarded myself with a cheeseburger and hot-dog from the concession stand outside the track. What the hell. I had just run my first-ever outdoor 1500. I did some quick calculations: I would need to cut off about 12 seconds or so to make it out of the qualifying race in my age group and into the finals at the Master Outdoor Track and Field Champsionships. Why not? If not me, than who? You?
Great info and great responses. I’m running in my third college meet this afternoon in Indianapolis against schools such as Indiana,Notre Dame, Purdue, Butler,Louisville and many others. I’m 44 and run the 800 meters…I usually bring up the rear, but many time will “beat” one or two young guys. I put in to perspective by age-grading my time and then comparing how I did….this has been really fun to do. It is very much fun to run in these meets and I’ve got a couple more to run in May. I usually get some training tips from others also. I highly recommend entering when possible. Thanks.
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