Pushing ourselves to the absolute limit brought us together
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers”- Shakespeare in Henry V
I sit on the musty dark green seat every kid that's been to school knows too well. I'm on the right side three seats from the back. Exhausted, beat up, and saddened. A bittersweet feeling fills the air as Dream On by Aerosmith faintly travels throughout the bus from a small compact Bluetooth speaker. Everyone on the bus feels the same way, we've all been connected this summer, and the past four days have been the culmination of excitement and beginning of a long racing season. On this bus, we realize the best of summer is over and that toughening process has been complete. It is now time to refine our skills over the next months as we prepare to become the best runners we can be. Funny enough, the ending takes place in the same beat up yellow school bus that started the journey.
The morning is cool for late July. We have begun the journey to southern Indiana and all 24 of us are in high hopes for another cross-country camp. We sit in the back of the bus and shout out music requests. Clay Obergfell answer the calls with blasting music from his speaker. We are all laughing and throwing jokes back in forth and belting out of sync lyrics. We all know what's ahead, except the freshman of course, but we try not to think about how hard it really is.
After an hour drive, a stop to run and eat, another hour and a half we arrive at our destination. About five of team dads beat us down to Versailles State Park and had begun to set up camp. Trees line the grass field we intend to stay in the next three nights. We get out of the bus, and like small army we quickly unload all the equipment and set up our colorful tents. Now in the back corner 20 different tents flank the trees on the left. Coach splits us up into three different groups. One to work each day of the week. The groups are Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. I’m assigned as captain of Charlie Company. Joining me in this prestigious group are five other guys that easily create the best company Versailles has ever seen. My first lieutenant is Gavin Miller. A tall lanky runner with a long neck. He’s as sharp as a tack and one of my best friends. Evan White joins as the third junior in the company. Arguably the tallest on the team (fighting against Gavin) and the smartest. Very Lanky and skinny with barely any fat on him. He has a mind of an engineer and can solve problems fast. With us are three sophomores who couldn’t be any different. Eric Hoffman a short, pale, white haired runner with freckles dotting his face. He’s the best runner on the team and can take an immense amount of pain before quitting. Clay Obergfell our number four runner. He’s an outdoorsman, a hunter, a wild man. He lives for this trip and always has the best camping gear from a state of the tent to a tiny stove he uses to cook late-night ramen. And finally the famous the man with two nicknames Alexander “AJ” “Krent” Snyder. He’s one of the craziest guys I’ve ever met. Always yelling and always random. We really couldn’t be much different, but we are the best of friends. Charlie Company perfectly exemplified our team as a bunch of misfits thrown together that bond over shared differences. Camp has officially begun, and after a quick lunch a whisper spreads through the camp.
Gavin Miller asks me, "When are we going to start frisbee dodge?" and like a virus the question spreads fear to many, but ecstatic joy to others. The freshman literally don't know what's about to hit them we I begin lining frisbees up in the middle of the battle field. Teams are quickly picked and fun begins. I madly dash to line squat and pick up as many frisbees as possible before sprinting to safety. I looked to Gavin to my left and he gives me a wild smirk. Both being juniors we are veterans at the sport of frisbee dodge, and on top of the that everyone knows we're the two best frisbee players on the team. As plastic death whirls around the air pelting victim after victim. Gavin and I methodically laser frisbees into our opponents. We catch everything coming our way and are an unstoppable force. After thirty minutes of wild play, bruises have formed, cuts have been crusted over into scabs, and victory has been claimed. Though the physical ailments will heal the psychological state of the victims will never be the same. Despite the beating the discs have inflicted no one cares and continues to play during the second game. We are used to pain, it doesn't bother us much.
“Cross Country is a mental sport. We’re all crazy”- Unknown
After the game, the day moves quickly. We rest in lawn chairs until the 4o'clock run. The first trail run of camp is uneventful. We run up and down the hills and through the trees like deer. It's a quick 45-minute run, only a few minor falls occur nothing serious. A delicious dinner is prepared by the dads and after some rounds of card games. We go to bed no later than 10 knowing what is coming in morning.
"GOOD MORNING CAMPERS," Coach Graham bellows at precisely seven in the morning. He's a sixty-something year old hardened by a military father and a life of running. His eyes are sunken, but full of life as he yells, "IT'S A GREAT DAY TO RUN THE TRAILS AT VERSAILLES!" We spring out of our tents one by one. Slowly we make our way to the picnic table we meet every morning. All 24 of us sit with a dazed stare on our faces. Our hair sticks out every which way from a night of sleep. All we wear are our shoes, socks, and short shorts that lay comfortably half way down our thigh. Coach looks at us, “You veterans know what’s ahead. Others I can only say good luck,” A grin spreads across his face like some mad scientist, “Go do a half mile warm up and I’ll explain when you get back. The workout we know is the annual grueling 5 by 1-mile camp repeats. We start on the road run up and down 3 hills a half a mile and run back. We stop and jog for 5 minutes and go again. It’s one of the hardest workouts we have, but at least its already 80 degrees and the morning dew has created a blanket of humidity.
“Miles of Trials and Trials of Miles”- John L. Parker
The first one goes by quick. Everyone can run one mile and no one is tired yet. Despite this we come back and get a dismal time of 5:37. Coach expresses his anger yells, “You gotta stop pussyfootin around and get after this one.” Fueled with adrenaline from the yelling we take the next one fast and feel good. Nothing hurts yet and our legs move quickly through the air like bullets before contacting the ground and powering into another stride. We are rewarded with a 5:16 at the finish. We still have a good pack of about six guys including me in the front. The next one is where it starts to hurt. I make all the way to the halfway point without worry when demons creep into my mind. They start in my legs and tell me that it’s getting hard and the hills getting steeper. I ignore them. Physically throw them away and finish the interval. 5:14. Only two more we tell ourselves. The penultimate interval is always the hardest. You must stay focused despite how hard it hurts. It’s only harder than the last one because you know there is another one after it. The first quarter is fine, nothing too bad. Once I hit the half mile I can feel the lactic acid spreading through my legs like spider webs. My arms start gesticulating like a windmill. I count in my head hill number one, .... , hill number two,....., final hill. The legs burn and breathing is labored. Jordan and Eric slowly make distance on me as I round the final turn to a 200m straight away to the finish. 5:20. The jog seems to be over in an instant and the final interval begins. Much like the fourth one, but the hurt comes quicker, and with a vengeance. I struggle right after the turn around. Eric is hurting too. I’m slowly falling back when he taps his hip twice signifying he wants me to pass him. I refocus and pass him. “I’m dying go,” he gasps with a dying breath. I get out a raspy “Ok. Now stay on my ass.” He follows the captain’s order and stays right behind me till the awful final sprint. Legs and arms flying everywhere, sweat dripping all over the place, vision fading into darkness, I finish. 5:23.
It’s exhausting, horrible, gruesome, cruel, depleting, but we love it and live for it. The rest of camp is much of the same. Get up at 7, run, eat, relax, run, eat, sleep. We play frisbee dodge and ultimate. Euchre and monopoly. We go swimming and explore 12 mile trails. We leave just as we arrive. We pack everything up and return to our steel yellow transportation. Stopping for a team picture the entrance. Nothing is different than before we left, but everything has changed.
Throughout my life I have never been popular. I have also been a nerd. I liked Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. I always followed the rules and did all my school work. Needless to say, I never really fit in. This is the same for most of the guys on the team. We are a little weird and different. Ok we are really different, but these differences bring us together. We daily put ourselves in pain by choice. We get hit by frisbees and put in awful runs together that test us mentally and physically. We really are all crazy and we are friends because of it. Because to get through the Miles of Trials and Trials of Miles everyone needs a partner or 23.
During High School, running taught me a lot. I taught me leadership, discipline, and a lot of toughness. But the greatest thing it showed me that shared hardships bring people together, no matter how different we are. This could apply to anything from share a medical disease with someone one to having the same homework. These things bring us together and in my case running with these guys and pushing ourselves to the absolute limits bring us together. The guys on the cross-country team are and will always be my best friends.
For the rest of my life I will remember what I have been through with the guys I met during high school cross country. It'll remind me throughout my life not to judge others because a lot of people may seem odd, but all it takes to bond is shared hardship.
- @MaxRunAgain ( Maxwell Runningen )
