This past week in Spain I was trying to conjure up a good reason that I wanted to be excited for this weekend’s XC meet. I don’t know if it was the cold the week before, the food poisoning, the familiarity of the week leading to world cross, or just general malaise but I couldn’t pull together the usual spark that gets me excited for a cross country race. Now, if you know me, that just doesn’t happen. I’m usually so fired up for an XC meet that I get chills just showing up to an XC meet, even as a spectator. Always have, still do, and, I hope, always will. So I had a hard time this week coming to terms with the feeling of not having that spark in the pit of my stomach that wanted to get out there and just crush everyone. The closest thing I can compare the feeling to is that of a battlefield. Instead of two sides charging to destroy each other, a united line stands ready to do battle with itself, individuals and teams break at the sound of the bugle’s call to battle, harriers race, weapons ready, bodies primed, adrenaline coursing, to battle against each other and with each other toward one goal. And as a warrior fights to the death, each harrier gives everything they have until the battle has been won, the course has been completed, the goal attained.  It’s this impending melee that sets the adrenaline flowing.  To set my focus and initiate that feeling the morning of a race upon arrival to the course, I imagine the course meticulously laid out before me will be the field on which the day’s battle will take place. The smooth green grass, mud, and hills will soon be a mass of bodies charging to test themselves against that day’s challenger; clock, course, fellow competitor or one’s own psyche.

But I digress, that’s more than you were asking for and way too far into my mind. Let’s just say I didn’t have it this week going into world cross. Or at least I was seriously doubting whether I was going to have a good race.  I figured, well, this is the year I give up my streak of contributing to the world team. I’m pretty proud of that, because as you know, I make a habit of just squeaking through at nationals.  And by contributing I mean as a scoring member of the team.  I figured this year might be it. And 3k into the race I was about ready to quit and just try to hold position and stroll in. I did not feel good, my legs had no power to them, I was last for our team and I was way back at about 65-70^th I believe.  It was warm too, I didn’t get out good, I had lots of excuses.

But I knew in doing that it would completely ruin this trip that I’d worked so hard for and raise questions in my head every time I thought about it. There was no way I was going to let that happen. I would be so pissed with myself. At 4k I grabbed some water, which always rejuvenates me and started racing. I moved up on Andrew Carlson first, kept catching others and feeling better and better as the lap went by.  Brian came into view and then guys that I didn’t expect, Andrew, then Brent, David McNiell from Australia. The fourth and fifth laps when by and I continued to catch people, and not just one or two, but groups. By the end of the fifth lap I heard enthusiastic shouts from our coaches of “Keep rolling. You’re in 43^rd.” 43^rd, I though, no possible way. I  had to keep it together for one more lap.  I could see Ben up ahead now and a group of about five guys that might be possible to catch. They had about 20m on me. A last bottle of water to start the last lap and there was 2k to go. Trying to catch a few more, fend of others charging behind me, and keep it together I focused on getting over the last 9 log barriers, the last two hills. I was able to kick down one last Portuguese dude before the line came up on me. I finished 40^th (two guys were disqualified).  I didn’t get the group but I had what I considered a consistent and smart race. I almost made it seem like I knew what I was doing out there to those watching the race.

I realize the last paragraph makes it sound pretty simple. “I just got some water and then started racing.” Like I could have just decided that and made it so. Soooo, not true. I’m just not that strong. But World XC, and XC in general has a profound affect on me that I see as pure and true to the soul. I would have a hard time forgiving myself if I’d given up on my value of XC. You can’t fake a race on a true XC course and you can’t make excuses to the course. It doesn’t care.

Race on.

Just FYI, the women were an unbelieveable 3rd. They ran great as a team. Shalane Flanagan was 3rd overall as well. USATF did another great job in organizing the trip and it's always a pleasure to work with Jim and Aron from USATF. We seriously would be lost without them. And thanks to our great coaches for each team as well, Kelly, Robert, Gwyn, and Fred.

PS: If you see a picture of my hair, I assure you this was an unintended consequence of the weather conditions. It was entirely too hot to have any hair so I had to cut it off somehow. Since this was unforeseen, I did not have the necessary clippers packed to make it a clean cut so I would say it was pretty darn good looking for just having a cheap pair of scissors from the front desk of the hotel. Yes, it’s a chop job, but a dang fine one at that.

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