Being a part of a team is one of the best experiences this sport has to offer. My best friends growing up and my best friends today are mostly guys I ran with at various levels of school and many of my fondest memories revolve around stupid, every day runs with my bros.
So when my friend Alex Fox pointed out that we were approaching 200,000 views and suggested we commemorate with a group post, my mind jumped straight to the memories I shared with teammates. Afterall, I'm thrilled that so far in 2015 during the LXV era I have had the opportunity to work with a team yet again. This blog has always been dependent on comments and discussion, but now the success is also due to the hard work and expertise of my fellow writers.
So each of my teammates has decided to contribute their own favorite memories from their running careers and they have each given some valuable insight into why this sport is so important to them.
So without further ado, here are some stories from the LXV crew:
Watermelon and GIF
by Garrett Zatlin
First off, a big congratulations to Etrain for continuing such an excellent blog. 200,000 views just goes to show how well respected he is in the track community and how great of a writer he is. Even though I started writing for him less than two months ago, I’m happy to be a small part of such a large following. Many thanks to Etrain for letting me be part of this and I’m looking forward to the next 200k. When looking back at my running career in high school, there are way too many moments that I could talk about. I could write a novel about all the awesome (and ridiculous) things my team and I did. Whether it be (constantly) going to Qdoba after practice or going on adventure runs that weren’t exactly “school authorized”, every practice meant something to me and I enjoyed every single moment. There was, however, one team tradition that stood out the most. The Wegmans Watermelon Challenge.
Cross country practices are often cancelled for the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur so practices can not be officially held. Since the coaches are not allowed to be at practice, the team holds a voluntary captain’s practice. Even though the practices are voluntary, everybody comes to this practice for the sole reason of the Watermelon Challenge. The tradition started back in 2010, my freshman year, when my entire class decided to go run to Wegman’s and back. An easy 6 miler. The senior captain’s at the time approved our run choice, but made one simple request: bring back a watermelon for the team. Not only did we bring back a watermelon, we brought back 2. They bulged out of our draw-string bags, which in retrospect, were way too small. I was surprised our bags didn’t tear. I imagine it was quite the spectacle watching 14 scrawny teenagers haul watermelons across town. When we finally finished the 3 mile return, the team was waiting by the track, cheering us on as we entered the gate with the fruit for our celebration. Thus, the Watermelon Challenge was born. The tradition kept going and every year, a new group of freshman would one-up the previous class by grabbing more and more watermelons. This year was the fifth year of the challenge and the first year without my class there to enforce the tradition. Luckily, we didn’t need to. The new freshman class (which includes my little brother) just broke the record by bringing back 9 watermelons (It was actually 8. One of the watermelons didn’t make it). An impressive feat no doubt.
I look back at that memory with a lot of pride. We created a tradition that’s more than just a team pasta dinner. It brought my entire class and the rest of the team together. We created something that the middle school runners hear about and are eager to do. From then on, it seemed that we gained a newfound respect from the upperclassmen and it allowed us to bond as a team. By the end of the season, we started to click. We beat a very talented Unionville squad, won the William Tennant invitational and qualified for the state championships for the first time since 2004.
Funny what some watermelon can do, huh?
I could talk about the time my friends and I went into an abandoned house and all the things we discovered. Or the time where my friends and I sent in a questionable advertisement to the track meet my high school held. Or maybe even the time where I was chased for a mile by the seniors, caught, and then thrown into the pool. There are countless stories but some are too good to be explained. However, there is one story that will never go away…literally. Since my freshman year of high school, my nickname among my teammates had been GIF. No, it did not mean Graphics Interchange Format. It meant (and still does mean) Garrett is Fat.
You can begin to understand the maturity level of the people I call friends.
If the fact that I write for a track and field blog didn’t give you an idea already, I’m a pretty small guy. My friends would tease me that I could always win a race by following the wind currents and fly past the finish line. Sometimes if I turned to the side, they would pretend they lost me and frantically yell “Where did Garrett go?”
Yes, these people are my “friends”.
I’m not quite sure how the name GIF started, but once it started it never stopped. My teammates would write it on sticky notes and place them all around the school. They would write it in big letters on the whiteboards where I had classes. Even my coach started calling me GIF.
The years went by and my nickname stayed intact. I wasn’t surprised to hear the name anymore and even a couple people outside of the team began calling me GIF. On the day of my high school graduation, my closest friends and I met in the lobby of the school congratulating each other. Once we picked up our diploma’s, Ryan declared, “Well, I guess it’s time to see the thing!”. I had no clue what he was talking about but for some reason all of my other friends laughed and eagerly agreed. Away from the madness of the picture taking and families, my friends led me up to the courtyard where engraved stones patterned the ground. Suddenly, they stopped, stood in a circle, looked at me and said “Well, here you go. Here’s your gift”. I looked down to find a gray brick in the middle of our circle. Carved into it, were three simple letters. The stone read “GIF”.
There are few things in life that are so stupid but so incredibly meaningful at the same time. This was one of them. How they kept it a secret for 6 months, got 21 people to contribute $10, and not let our coach find out (until very recently) is a miracle. No matter how cheesy this may sound, that brick was pretty special. It kind of summed up my entire high school career and holds some pretty amazing memories. It’s the small things in life that you need to learn to appreciate. For all those seniors out there, enjoy the last bit you have. I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty happy I never have to take a high school class again. I definitely don’t miss it. But the times I had with my teammates can’t be measured in a value and it can’t be understood by anyone outside of the team. At the end of the day, there is nothing better than sharing a laugh with guys you can call your brothers.
Run on,
Garrett
Caleb Gatchell
When I think of my favorite running memories, they always involve my teammates. Sure, I love a nice long run by myself when the weather is nice. That’s one of my favorite activities, but it’s not the first thing I think of. I think of the group of guys I ran with, and how much fun we had with the sport. I remember during my junior year of xc at districts when we were all pensively waiting for the official results. We knew top 5 made it, and we knew we were close. I remember our coaches calling us together and breaking the news, we finished 6th, and then handing us the results so we could see for ourselves. And I remember the elation when we realized he had lied, that we were 4th, and we were going to states. I remember our “5x8” relay during track my senior year: 4 seniors and a “Super sophomore” according to the papers. I remember running the 4x800 prelims at states, where Josh Pardoe led off, and Nick McCabe sat on the sidelines, trusting us to get to finals and give him his chance to run. And then I remember the next day, when we did make finals, and Josh was the one sitting on the sidelines, trusting us to get him his state medal. Finally, I remember how thrilled we all were when the race ended, and we were in 5th. I never would have been the runner I was, or am now, if it weren’t for the teammates I had, from Matt Croft leading us my junior year, to my 3 classmates that pushed me every day, to my brothers who constantly reminded me that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. So what are my favorite running memories? They’re the people I ran with, the accomplishments we achieved, the friendships we forged grinding through tough workouts, and last, but not least, the coaches I had who pushed me to be the best I could possibly be. So, while I will always enjoy a solo long run just enjoying creation, I wouldn’t be on that run if it weren’t for all the teammates and friends I have run with, and the ones I run with now.
200k Views Special: Fondest Memory by Alex Fox
As this site’s ticker approached 200,000 views, I approached Jarrett with the idea that all the contributors do something special for you, our dedicated readers. This is an idea I’ve seen from some YouTubers as they hit certain milestones for subscribers and what not, and I thought it would be nice to apply the same concept here. I suggested to Jarrett that we each share our funniest memory from our running careers, as most of my memories from the sport fall under this category, but our beloved E-Train (I still prefer “Rett”). The fact that most of my cross country and track memories fall under the “funny” category can largely be attributed to the fact that most of my memories from the sport come from high school, as I ran for three years at Oneonta, but have only the one year of collegiate running. In high school, I did not run cross country (I was a serious soccer player in a good program. My junior year Oneonta competed in the state quarterfinals and my senior year the team won the programs first Southern Athletic Conference (STAC from here on out) title. I’m confident I could have played Division III soccer had I chosen to) and track was more of a social outlet. Many of my friends were on the team, and the large meets were a natural outlet for my inner Abbie Hoffmann (1960s reference, google if you want) to shine through. During indoor meets, my good friend Ben Gollin and I would spend most of our time coloring and swinging our legs in the air, convincing strangers that we were children in the bodies of high schoolers. My adventures during outdoor include starting a band in an equipment shed, cannonballing during steeplechase (costing Oneonta 2nd place at our home meet after I jammed my knee and was passed by 4 people on the final straight), stealing a cooler from rival Cooperstown, and more. Despite these shenanigans, I did find success in track, especially during outdoor. Oneonta went to small enough meets during outdoor where I could goof off for most races and pass whoever I needed to pass in the final 200 meters to secure whichever place I thought appropriate. I also wasn’t slow, as I am part of Oneonta’s record 4x1600 team, but I certainly did not take the sport seriously and was not racing to my ability. Coaching was poor, I didn’t focus during races, and was not shy about skipping distance runs in favor of goofing off in the park. I bet you’re wondering where I am going with this, given that I haven’t really talked about a favorite memory. However, for this story to make any sense, I needed to establish what running was to me before what will proceed. It was nothing. I stayed in shape, and hung out with friends. This all changed on May 16th, 2013, at the STAC Championships, as the 3200 I ran at this meet changed my perception of running and has shaped me into the athlete I am today.
Now, before I get into that race, I have to back up a little further, to May 12th of the same year. At this time, my life was great. I was ending my senior year of high school, and I was essentially done with any academic commitments. My senior year I took 3 AP classes during my half days at Oneonta High School, and in the afternoon took classes at the local college, SUNY Oneonta. By May 12th, I had one AP test left and had finished my college courses. I was done. Moreover, I had recently sent in my deposit for Muhlenberg College and had been informed of my acceptance (as a guaranteed transfer sophomore; it’s a weird thing) to Cornell University, which was by far the best school I had applied to. Everything in my life was great. That changed in an instant. I was on Facebook on this beautiful, Sunday afternoon, when I saw a few strange posts. I thought it was a bad joke or something, so I called my close friend, Zach King, to see what was happening. When he picked up his voice was shaking, and he immediately drove to my house. When I met him outside, we both had tears in our eyes as he was about to confirm my worst fear: our good friend Jared Trotti passed away the night before. I don’t remember what Zach said to me, I just remember him embracing me and sitting in my back driveway for hours, in total shock before my mom discovered me. I was shaken to the core. 18 year olds, especially the ones you know, aren’t supposed to die. Time seemed to drift after that. The funeral was held that Wednesday, and I didn’t have the strength to look at his body. Jared had just finished his freshman year at Elizabethtown College, and I hadn’t seen him since the winter. The last words he shared with me were over text: “I’ll see you soon.”
The STAC 3200m race my first race after Jared’s death. The week leading up to the race was one of the hardest of my life, as I walked the halls of the high school, lying to people, telling them I was “okay” after what had transpired over the weekend. The STAC Championships was the biggest meet our season, and in the past, had seen some great races (my sophomore year, 11 guys broke 9:55 in the 3200). I was only running the 3200, and this would be my second to last track meet of my high school career. I remember lining up for the race and knowing something was different. I wasn’t cracking my classic “let’s go break 16 minutes” joke, and for once, I was actually nervous. The gun went off, and the next thing I can remember was approaching the finish. The entire race was just a blur, because for once, I was racing for something. I wanted to prove something to myself, that I had the strength not just to race and compete, but to recover from the tragedy that had just occurred. Moreover, on that track, for those 10 minutes, I wasn’t Alex Fox, recent funeral attendant. I was just the 11th seed. It was simple. When I crossed the line, I knew I had run faster than ever before because I was actually in pain. I don’t remember what the exact time was, but I had PRed by like 20 seconds or something. For the first time in that week, I had relief. Something went right. I cooled down with Ben, who had also been close with Jared and had been suffering that week, and we shared our fondest memories of our lost friend.
I have chosen to share this memory, this race, this entire experience, as my “favorite” memory not because I PRed, and certainly not because it’s happy and joyful, but because of its significance. That race was the turning point for me in running. I had been on the fence about running at Muhlenberg despite recruitment, and really thought of myself as a runner, but just as another kid in the sport. But that race showed me two things: first, for the first time, I felt like I could accomplish something. I was excited about running! I was looking forward to my last week, hopeful I could PR again, and run close to 10:00 (my coach had me in 3 events at my last meet, so needless to say, I did not PR). After that race, I made one of the best decisions of my life in committing to run cross country and track at Muhlenberg. The second significant experience about that race was my ability to lose myself in running. During that race, I didn’t think, and I needed to not think more than ever at that time. To this day, I use running for the same reasons. When academics or social pressures or whatever get to me, I know I have a time each day when I’m out running, and the only thing that matters is putting my foot in front of the other. This is what running is to me. It is an escape, and it is a passion.
Jared’s death has had a great impact on my life (as Jarrett found out one infamous night last fall, but that’s a story for another time), and continues to shape me. Without what happened however, I would not be the athlete I am today. I now define myself as a runner, and take it very seriously. I love to follow the sport, I love to compete in the sport, and as you may have guessed by my contributions to this blog, I love to discuss the sport. The 3200 on that fateful night in May is my favorite memory from my career in running because it allowed me to embrace a sport that I truly love.
****Please note that Jared passed from an alcohol related incident. If you or anyone you know are ever in trouble, please do not hesitate to find help. The consequences from contacting help will never be worse than what they might be if you don’t. This is an issue I am very serious about. Always stay safe.****
etrain11
Being a part of a cross country or track team has often been compared to being a part of a cult. I get that. The crazy outfits, the absurd mileage, the indecisive will to continue on the path to success.
But I see being a part of an XC team more like being a part of one big family. Everybody has similar quirky personalities and similar awkward body types so you could all pass for being distantly related. Everyone cares about each other and wants them to succeed. Every team has the guy who ends up becoming "team mom" (it was me for most of my teams) and there is usually a wild child, the quiet one, and maybe even a few adopted kids.
I had the "pleasure" of living with 7 of my teammates at the same time for a year in college and that was one of the best (and at times one of the worst) experiences of my life. You learn a lot about everyone from being a part of a family and you begin to understand all of a person's quirks and personality traits.
And so most of the time you can do spot on impressions of your teammates. Which is exactly what the Upper Dublin men's distance squad did at a track practice in 2010 outdoor.
Somehow we came up with the idea to have one day where everyone would portend to be somebody else from the team for the day. We picked names out of a hat a couple days in advance and everyone's doppelgänger was kept a secret until the big day at practice.
It was a huge success, easily one of my favorite track practices of all time. My Co-Captain and lockermate Ian McGrath stole my signature hat from my locker, brought in a pair of fake glasses and threw down an incredibly nerdy voice for the whole practice. He posted up pictures of some HS lockers in our locker with hearts around them and then crudely pasted his race over mine in a picture of me and my girlfriend at the time that he pulled from Facebook. It was fantastic. He didn't even break character during our team meeting with the coaches and Coach Dinkins instantly caught on he was doing an impression of me, calling him "Felix". It was phenomenal and over the top in all the right ways.
Another friend, Tom Lorenzi, ended up wearing the exact same outfit as the person he was trying to imitate for the event which everyone enjoyed. He did the weirdest twist on Matt Tanzer I'd ever seen.
It's hard to truly understand all the jokes and references if you weren't a part of the team, but trust me it was amazing. It was great because we had a group that understood each other, was comfortable enough with each other to joke around and poke fun at each other and, if push come to shove, would have each other's back in any situation.
And that sounds like a family to me.
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