This is another in the “Sunday Story” series. With all of the sadness, confusion, and straight-out craziness going on in the world, it’s time for a break from analysis. So here’s a story about high school Cross Country running.
Cross Country
Last Saturday marked the “beginning of the end” of the 2023 High School Cross Country season. For those who aren’t sure about “cross country”; it’s a big race, 5000 meters long (3.1 miles). It’s across fields and on paths in woods, up and down hills, through mud and water (when in the way) and around sharp curves. There are direction markings, but not the strict “lane lines” of track and field. Cross Country is more “free-form”. It begins with a mass start. The starter stands about 25 meters in front and in the middle of a line of over a hundred runners. The gun is fired; then the starter sprints to the sideline to get out of the way. The whole time, he or she watches to see if anyone is knocked down (hopefully not them).
Cross Country is normally the least officiated sport in high school athletics. At most meets (runners usually run at least six times during the season) there’s the starter with the gun, and there’s an official at the finish line. For most of the three miles there’s little or no “supervision”. Some see Cross Country as an “idyllic” run in the countryside, but in serious competition, packs of runners are fighting for position and place on narrow paths. It’s no joke to say, “…what goes on in the race, stays in the race”. Elbows and spiked shoes sometimes become weapons.
Qualifying
Saturday was the first of the qualifying meets to the state championships. Only the top few runners and teams move onto the Regional meet this weekend, with even fewer earning the right to compete in the State. As a former Cross Country Coach, I know these weeks are the most important of the season: the focus and target of six months of effort: sweat, blood and tears. There is no “alternate qualification”. Either you make the place in this race and the next, or your season is done.
The folks that organize these meets recognize the finality of the results. So, unlike most of the season, multiple officials are hired to act as “umpires”. They watch the race, spaced out throughout the course. They are there to “make the call” if there is some unsportsmanlike racing, some intentional pushing or shoving, or, very occasionally, some actual “fisticuffs” while still racing (oh yeah, it happens!!). But the real role of umpires is as a silent reminder: someone is watching. If a runner commits a “foul”, there is no “minor penalty” in Cross Country. Either your race counts, or you are disqualified – season over.
As a track official it may be the most boring job ever. But it does exactly what it’s supposed to do. It makes the race about racing; strategy, and tactics, strength and speed; but not about conduct. As the runners go by, everyone is aware – someone is watching, with the authority to end my season.
The District
Central Ohio has the biggest District meet in the state. There are fourteen races, seven boys and seven girls; each with a set number of teams and individuals that qualify onto the Regional level. Schools are divided by size, from small Division III schools, some just able to field the required five runners to be a team, to giant Division I schools, some with a hundred kids on the team to choose from. But only seven can run per team, one school team for boys and one for girls. Yesterday close to 1500 kids raced on the flat-fast course at Hilliard Darby High School, a race each thirty minutes, from 10 am until 4:30 pm.
And I watched them all.
Three Calls
I made three “calls” in seven hours of competition. None of them involved the runners on the course. While there was some “jockeying” for position in the race, no one committed a “foul” that required me to begin the process of disqualification (thank goodness). So what was I “calling” about?
One of the coolest parts of a Cross Country meet is the crowds, pressed next to the course limits, calling out encouragement to “their” runners. Kids and coaches sprint from point to point on the course, trying to make a difference. Parents usually aren’t moving quite as quickly, but they make up for their lack of speed with special yells, signs, and even cowbells. What for most of the season are sounds of heavy breathing, pounding feet, and the occasional muttered curse; is now almost three full miles of cheering and shouting. It’s the best part of the “championship” season.
But there are some rules – for spectators too. Besides not physically interfering with the race, the most frequent infraction is called “pacing”. You can’t run beside your kid for any length of time, setting a “pace” for them to follow. If you do, then the runner gets that dreaded “yellow flag” leading to disqualification.
Disqualification
My goal is to never disqualify a kid, particularly for something their Mom, Dad or teammate is doing. So I exercise my prerogative to, “preventively officiate”. In short, I yell at the parent or teammate – “STOP PACING!” The teammate almost always gets it, the parents usually need a bit more education. So then there’s a brief conversation, often followed by raised eyebrows and irritated shrugs. I don’t care: I don’t need agreement, only compliance. The last thing I want to do is raise the “yellow flag”.
I had that conversation twice. I had a third situation where I would have, but the father was yelling in Spanish, the daughter/runner was responding, and he turned off the course before I had the opportunity to warn him. Central Ohio is a diverse community.
Always Dogs
My third “call” of the day again had nothing to do with running. Not surprising for me, it had to deal with – dogs.
People love to bring their dogs to Cross Country meets. Technically, they are not allowed to, but with “free-form” cross country, it’s hard enough to get an admission ticket from spectators, much less control who (or what) gets out of their car. So there’s often dogs out there, and the vast majority of them are well behaved, enjoying the crowd and the noise, the ready access to trees and bushes, and the frequent attention. And on leashes – they’re always on leashes.
We’ve got five dogs at home. I wouldn’t take any of them to a Cross Country meet (I did take our old Lab, Dash, but he was a once-in-a-lifetime dog). There would be too many dogs to bark at, too many little kids to chase. And then the gun goes off – oh boy!!!! But even with Dash, the perfect dog, I never let him “off-leash” at a meet.
So when I saw the little “Benji” dog having a great time chasing a tennis ball; all I could think of was Benji joining in the “pack” of runners, as they went around my Umpire position. Talk about wreaking havoc in a race! So I exercised my dubious authority over the crowd: “HEY – YOUR DOG MUST BE ON LEASH!!” They began to explain – “Benji (or whatever his name is) would never…” but I cut that off: “ON LEASH NOW!”
Again, irritated shrugs (and an “I told you so” from a nearby Mom); but Benji went on-leash, and a potential crisis was averted.
The Watchers
There were ten umpires spread out over the “repeating” mile and a half course Saturday, usually at a turn. That’s about one every 200 meters or so. No one had to raise a “yellow flag”; no one was disqualified from the meet. That doesn’t mean the ten of us “didn’t do anything”. We did exactly what we hoped to do – by our mere presence, and a couple of shouted “suggestions”, we made sure the race was fair, and the dogs stayed on leash.
We were watching.
Next week the stakes are even higher – the Regional race to qualify for State. There are twenty-seven of us this time. The stakes are even higher for us too. Hopefully we can all “just” watch.
The Sunday Story Series
- Riding the Dog – 1/24/21
- Hiking with Jack – 1/31/21
- A Track Story – 2/7/21
- Ritual – 2/14/21
- Voyageur – 2/19/21
- A Dog Story – 2/25/21
- A Watkins Legend – 3/7/21
- Ghosts at Gettysburg – 3/14/21
- Lessons from the State Meet – 3/28/21
- More Lessons from the State – 4/4/21
- Stories from the Road – 4/11/21
- A Bear Wants You – 5/1/21
- My Teachers – 5/9/21
- Old Friends – 5/23/21
- The Gift – 6/6/21
- Echoes of Mom – 6/20/21
- Stories of the Fourth – 7/3/21
- Running Memories – 7/25/21
- Lost Dog of Eldora – 8/1/21
- Dogs and Medals – 8/8/21
- The New Guy – 9/5/21
- Stories of 9-11 – 9/12/21
- The Interview – 9/26/21
- Night Moves – 10/3/21
- Funeral for a Friend – 10/11/21
- National Security – 10/24/21
- Boots on the Trail – 10/31/21
- Taking Care of Mom and Dad – 11/14./21
- Dogs Found and Lost – 11/21/21
- Watching Brian 12/12/21
- Stories from Shiloh – 12/19/21
- Team Trips – 12/26/21
- Uphill, Both Ways – 1/9/22
- Old Trophies – 1/30/22
- The Last Time – 2/7/22
- Olympic Miracles – 2/13/22
- Mind Numbing – 2/20/22
- Track Weather – 4/3/22
- What’s Missing – 4/11/22
- A Scouting Story – 4/17/22
- Waterproof Paper – 5/8/22
- Origin Stories – 5/22/22
- Origin Stories – Part Two 5/29/22
- Back at State – 6/5/22
- Out in the Country – 6/19/22
- Pataskala Downs – 7/4/22
- Car Stories I – 7/24/22
- Car Stories II – 7/31/22
- Old Man Experience – 8/7/22
- Cross Country Camp – 8/14/22
- New to the Pack – 8/21/22
- Car Stories III – The Bus – 8/28/22
- A Day in the Life – 9/4/22
- Stupid Human Tricks – 9/18/22
- Fair or Foul – 2/26/23
- Immigrant Story – 3/12/23
- Busy Season – 5/15/23
- Of Jeeps and Bucks – 5/28/23
- A Pole Vault Story -6/11/23
- End of an Era – 6/25/23
- Paybacks – 7/2/23
- Graying in Pataskala – 7/17/23
- Being a Goat – 7/23/23
- Toy Truck – 8/20/23
- Medical Terms – 8/27/23
- Missing Margaritaville – 9/3/23
- The McGowan – 9/10/23
- Who’s Watching – 10/22/23
