Going For Gold

​With the Olympics kicking off tonight, I always look forward to watching track & field.

The sport was my first love when my parents let me join a track club when I was 8. At that time, the youngest division for races was 9-10 years old, so I'd go to these track meets and get smoked. I'd get smoked at practice too because all the other kids were much older than me. In hindsight, I was blessed to be training with some incredible athletes, but they were just the "big kids" then. (For context, one became a Division One decathlete and eventual doctor, another played in the NFL and is now the offensive coordinator for the Green Bay Packers, and another would actually win a track gold medal at the 2004 Olympics in Athens). 

​While there were days at first where I felt overmatched, I'd also come home from practice feeling invigorated. First, there was a feeling of pride that comes with being accepted as a part of the team, and I looked up to a lot of these kids. Second, it's a tremendous feeling when you can see yourself improving week over week. Third, I loved the challenge of it all.

In year two, I signed up for the 400 meters at the state regionals and finished in 4th place (the top 2 from each region would go to the state championship meet).

Year 3 rolled around: I was ten and racing against my peers. At the same regional meet, I set a meet record, finished first, and had my ticket to state. Because it was the middle of summer and a lot of kids weren't competing any more, the club only had practice once a week. So, I'd have 4 weeks before state but only a few practices. My coach showed me the other regional winning times, and it didn't take a genius to see that despite my best-effort in regionals, I was prob. the 4th or 5th fastest statewide.

Right then, it was “you’ve got a month to get faster.” 

I spent the next 4 weeks out on the street in front of my house, literally just running long straightaways as fast as I could, and incorporating things we’d normally do at practice. 

The state meet was a 2.5 hour drive from my house, so my dad and I got up early and drove on a Saturday morning. About half way, my dad got pulled over for speeding. While I already had some butterflies, this was like,”Am I going to miss the race?!” 

We got there, and I changed my clothes and stretched out. Standing on the track with people in the bleachers on both sides was a new thing for me. There were a few people at the regionals, but this was next level. In that moment, I just looked around and thought to myself, “I put in the work every day for the past 4 weeks. I’m ready to do this.” 
When that gun went off, there’s a bit of a shock to your system. I settled into the race, one full lap, and as I neared the final 100 meter straightaway, led the pack. 

Everything tightens up a bit, but I remember thinking “you’ve gotta go.” 

With about 50 meters left, I heard a single thing from a fan to my right: 

“You’re going to catch him!” 

That one line was what I needed, as the leader, to kick even harder, and I pulled away to cross the finish line first. 

After the race and when my adrenaline finally calmed down, my dad asked me if I heard him cheering. I wanted to say “yes,” but the truth was the only thing I heard was probably the mother of the kid that finished second. 

My coach congratulated me and acted a bit surprised, “You ran a lot faster than you did 4 weeks ago.” 

The beauty of being young is that you don’t overthink the numbers, the odds, or the fact that you’re racing against kids from bigger cities and talent pools (one of the kids in that race would play in the NFL). I ran faster because I believed I had gotten faster. I ran faster because I knew I had put in the work. I was naive but not afraid and believed I could win.