Our newest blogger is Will Janakis formerly of Marshwood and presently a junior at Thomas College. Janakis fnished 15th in the North Atlantic conference championship last year running 29:02. Follow Will in his junior xc season for Thomas College.
The night before the NAC championship, I did what I do the night before every big race: laundry. I felt a lot calmer and relaxed than I thought I would. For once, I had accepted the Bill Bowerman “hay’s in the barn” philosophy, and was ready to just go out there and do my best.
The two weeks leading up to the NAC championship had been a mess for me. My left leg had been doing worse, with pain on both sides of my calf increasing, along with what was becoming a very sore hamstring. I was running on average every other day. But I still believed NAC’s could be a great race. The week before with a so-so effort I ran 17:06 at MMA, where I had run 17:26 the year before.
Come race day morning my legs felt great; I was more confident than I had ever been. It was my course; I had designed it, I had spent three hours the day before spray painting it with the team. I knew it better and had run more miles on it than any other person there. I continued to stay calm leading up to the start by loudly singing Highway to Hell with Dylan and Nick.
Before the race, Coach Smart pulled me aside and told me it was my day. This race had been set up for me. The gun went off and everything played out like it had in my dreams for the past several months. I got out perfectly and settled into the top ten pack. I felt smooth and in control. Sadly, this only lasted for about ¾ of a mile. As soon as we started going up the big hill, my right leg (the good one!!) started tightening up a lot in the quad. I tried to just run through it, but my pace kept slowing and more and more runners started passing me. I convinced myself not to worry; they would come back to me. No one came back, I kept falling more and more off the pace, and more runners kept passing me at the top of the hill. At mile two, the MMA Coach Ryan King cheered for me to get back in the race and that it was my course; I just couldn’t. My right leg kept getting weaker and weaker. I could barely push off with it.
I’ve never dropped out of a race before, but I thought of doing it; I felt humiliated, embarrassed and ashamed. My team had counted on me to have a good race, my family had driven over two hours to watch me run, and I was barely in the top half of the pack. Those months of dreams where I ran out of my shoes and crushed the competition had turned into a living nightmare. What I had with me in my glove was a circular charm that said strength on it (the night before every championship race, Coach Smart gives us all some sort of little gift; this year she gave us all charms with different things she thought applied to us). As my quad killed, I kept just squeezing the charm telling myself I would be fine, my team still needed me to run, I had to finish. Going up the big hill the second time took every fiber in my body not to walk, but I managed to do it. Going down the final straightaway, I managed to pass a few people and finished 40th. I walked away from the crowd and wouldn’t say a word to anyone until I saw Nick, who had also had an off race. We didn’t need words, we just embraced hands for a moment and looked at each other; all was said that needed to be said. When you run side by side with someone for three months, you develop a bond that doesn’t need words to tell you how the other person’s feeling.
The feelings of self-pity and anger with myself over what had happened didn’t last long. My three youngest siblings quickly found me, and started cheering my name and jumping up and down in excitement over my race. To them, they had no understanding of the arbitrariness of what a top ten finish would have been, or that I had run my slowest time in years, or the team concept. They just saw me having finished an exciting race. It was one of those epiphany moments; there’s nothing I could do to change what had happened, but my attitude could be changed. It’s my junior year of college; I now only have one season of running XC left. I can’t dwell on the negative moments. Not many people get the opportunity to race championship races or run in college. I need to just look at the positives for now. As a team this season we beat teams we’d never beaten before. We had our best finish in most races. I improved my times on almost every course. Me, someone who used to have to ask his high school coach every week how far 5k was, made a 5k and an 8k course that ten colleges from New England came to race on. As a team we became friendlier and interactive with other teams, earning us not only new friends, but the league sportsmanship award (first time any male team in Thomas has won it in a number of years). The season was a success; we just lacked the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae.
The Thomas men’s team will be back in action this Saturday at the New England regional. With where I am physically, I will be out there just looking for some experience. Don’t you worry folks, I’ll be back next year better, faster, stronger, and smarter than ever.
This is going to be my last blog of the year, so I would like to take a moment to thank anyone that took the time to read any of my entries (I know they weren’t all master pieces), and especially Maine Mile Split for allowing me the opportunity to get it out there! Also, to any seniors going to college next year, I strongly encourage you to run! I don’t know any D3 programs that won’t at least give someone of any level a chance! It was the best choice of my life to keep running.
Till next time, may the miles be quick and plentiful- William Janakis