Racing With Greatness
A Report from the January Track Meet

The summer after my freshman year at Cornell, I was training to run cross country for Cornell (an unimpressive experience I won't relate). In addition to biking 15 miles to and from Ithaca and serious running, I also tried swimming at lunch with one of my mother's friends from Olin Library, Anne Kenney. Anne had been a champion swimmer in high school, and she could swim a mile in the Teagle pool in the same 30 minutes it took me to swim half that distance. One day, after our noon swim, Anne and I walked back to the library and I commented to my mother that Anne was twice as fast as I was. Ever the sharp wit, Anne quickly added, "And twice as old too!." It was true - I was 18, she was 36. My teenage ego rankled briefly, but there was no arguing with the facts.

That memory came back to haunt me last Sunday at the second Finger Lakes Runners Club track meet. I'd gone to test my High Noon-inspired racing fitness at the mile, a distance I raced moderately well in high school, but which I hadn't tried my hand at for many years. Although I kept telling myself to avoid expectations, especially since the holiday break wasn't conducive to speed work and I'd run only one workout in Barton since returning to Ithaca in July, deep down I really wanted to break the 5 minute mile. I thought it was possible - I'd run a 4:42 in high school, Brian Culley had recently paced me to a lung-numbing 5:19 (jogging speed for him) on the bike path at the end of a hard Dodge loop, and I was in the best racing shape since college. But still, I just had no idea how hard I'd really find 8 laps on the Barton track.

The mile turned out to be the hot event, with 6 heats containing about 10 people each. I never anticipated such enthusiasm, and I'd put down a conservative 5:10 as my estimated time. I did want to run with Casey Carlstrom though, since I wanted to key off someone who I knew would run a solid pace well under 5 minutes. As Charlie Fay and his daughter sorted the cards, though, I realized that such a conservative time was going to land me in a heat where going under 5 minutes would mean leading the race, which wasn't a recipe for success.

But there was another wildcard - Molly Huddle. As most of you probably know, Molly is the phenomenal high school runner from Elmira who not only won all 11 of her cross country races this year, but set course records in each of them. Then, at the Foot Locker Cross Country National Championships, Molly took 4th. She's good, really good. And as I found out as Charlie obligingly shuffled my card into the next faster heat, she was in that heat, predicting a 4:55. Diane Sherrer added to the stress by commenting that Molly's PR for the mile was 5 seconds faster yet. And then I watched her run a masterful two mile in 10:19, 3 seconds faster than my high school PR for that distance, going through the first mile of that race in 5:03. Anyone who can run that kind of time can probably run another race at pretty much full speed after an hour or two of rest.

Great, just great. I'm fast enough that I can generally finish ahead of the first woman, and although, it doesn't really bother me when a woman does beat me, it's hard suppressing all vestiges of male ego. Worse, I had to agree with Derek Dean when he commented that he had a personal policy against getting toasted in races by people who weren't alive when Star Wars came out. But there we were at the starting line, me, Molly, and six or seven other guys I didn't know (Casey ended up in the fastest heat, with Derek one heat behind me).

I'd managed to line up in lane three, since on the Barton track it's important to get to the inside lane as quickly as possible to avoid running farther than necessary. The gun went off, and I sprinted briefly to establish a spot in lane 1. I found myself in second place at that point, but felt strong and smooth enough to take the lead fairly quickly, going through the first 400 meters in 72 seconds. I was a bit surprised about being in the lead, to be honest, but I retained the lead for the second 400 meters, going through in 73 seconds for a 2:25 half. Then I started to break down in the fifth and sixth laps, managing only a 77 quarter and losing both first and second place to two of the guys. The seventh lap started and Molly passed me, looking smooth and, in retrospect, speeding up. I held with her for the seventh lap, and decided to try and pass her in the final lap, since I felt like I had a kick left. Rounding the corner into the far straightaway, I picked up the pace... a lot... and barely managed to close the few strides of distance between us. So I tucked into the inside lane behind her for the final turn, planning to unleash what was left of my kick in the home stretch. It all sounds so calculating in retrospect, but these were split-second decisions made somewhere close the spinal cord - there was neither time nor energy for working up a rational course of action.

I'm going to give Molly the benefit of the doubt I've just removed from myself and assume that she knew what she was doing in that final 50 meters. We had to finish in lane 3, and as I came out of the turn, I made an attempt to pass her on the right, but she moved over just slightly to block me, forcing me to take a stride either further our or back in to have a chance at passing. I opted for in, gave it everything I had... and crossed the line a few feet behind Molly's bouncing ponytail. Her time: 4:56. Mine: 4:57. I might have wanted one more place, but I was still extremely happy about breaking the 5 minute mile, and realistically, I probably wouldn't have done it without Molly to pull me along during that last 73 second 400.

Oh, and when I was looking at the posted final results, I noticed that she was only 17. That's right, exactly half my age. I didn't ask her when she'd first seen Star Wars - she probably would have assumed Phantom Menace. Sigh.

--Adam Engst