Another state meet weekend

After this past weekend, I have attended nearly twenty Indiana track and field state championship meets (including both boys and girls meets). While my role at the meet has changed drastically since I am now a spectator instead of an athlete, without fail, just being at the meet gives me goosebumps. I do not believe in my entire college career that I was ever quite as nervous as I was for some of my high school state meet races.

In high school, the track state meet was the end-all, be-all of life for me. As a high school freshman I saw the attractive brown ribbons with the Indiana-shaped medals my teammates had earned for their ninth place finish the previous year in the 4x8 relay, and I wanted one. The regional meet had been neck and neck between us and Carmel, and I knew the state meet would be similar. There I was, a 5-foot tall braces-clad freshman with my dorky crew length socks pulled as high as they would go, and I was anchoring a relay with a bunch of upperclassmen. I wanted to puke so badly, but while I was looking around for a good spot to do so, all of a sudden my teammate was charging into the exchange zone and it was time to race. I ran a personal best split of 2:20, but it was not enough to overtake traditional powerhouse Carmel. I ran so hard, though, that I tore a costal muscle in my ribs, but it was worth it for my own Indiana-shaped medal. That medal, though, made the 3200m run later in the meet not quite as fun, and no Indiana-shaped medal as a souvenir for that one.

I didn't think it was possible to be more nervous than I was my freshman year, but my sophomore year proved me wrong. That year we won regionals in the 4x8 and we were favored to do the same at state. There was less of the underdog mentality and more of that heavy "we need to win this because we may never again have such a good shot," feeling. This time, though, I was the third leg and not anchor. The plan was to build a gap so that Carmel's strong anchor leg (who would later be a teammate at IU) could not catch up, or would wear herself out trying to close the gap too soon. It worked to perfection and this time we had the blue medal. I was so giddy I almost forgot to warm-up for the 3200m run later that evening, but the fact that I had used up all my nervousness on that first race allowed me a care-free second race. This time I kept all my rib muscles intact and managed to place third individually.

My junior year was just a delayed sophomore slump. Severe allergies and a deviated septum derailed my grand plans for two more medals, yet we gave it our all in the 4x8 and got the much-adored orange-ribboned medal for sixth place. I didn't even qualify for the 3200m run individually, which would motivate me tremendously during summer training after recovering from surgery to correct the crooked septum in my nose.

By the end of my senior year the roller coaster of a career was back on the upswing. As proof that life comes full circle, I closed my high school career with the same medals I had earned my sophomore year, a blue and a white, but this time reversed in the events. Before the 3200m run, my last high school race, the nervousness demons encircled me. As one of the race officials walked us to the start line I panicked. I had forgotten my BreathRight strip! How could I run without it? My breathing will be off! Oh well, the gun's up now, just go! The first mile I was cautious, afraid to go into oxygen debt without the coveted nasal strip to keep all airways as open as possible. My patience paid off as the leader slowly came back to me and I quickly reeled her in, passing her with 200m to go and never looking back.

Back to the future... and even after finishing college, I still get butterflies in my stomach watching the state meet. I can see in the eyes of the high schoolers that same nauseating feeling, that anxiety, the desire to just know how it will end up, be it good or bad. It's the not knowing that is so hard to handle. I see in some of the high schoolers the joy of everything coming together, and in others, the tears of everything falling apart, and I feel for them both. The joy is so fleeting, yet the disappointments will linger so long.

The biggest lesson I have learned from observing instead of competing in these meets is that high school state track meets are not, in fact, the end of the world. The sun will still rise the next day no matter what happened on the oval or in the field. As logical as that sounds, it is harder to grasp than it seems! It has only taken me ten years to do so...