It was a surprise. I would have brought my running shoes if I were had been forewarned. But why now? It had to happen before it got too cold. The ground was wet, and the temperature was chilly. I wondered about if the reduced friction would help our speeds. My heart rate was fast, considering I had run a democracy run to fetch mock ballots, stuck in the upper building, an hour prior, plus all the anxiety of the next 8 minutes. Seconds after the 'go' was given, I had taken place halfway between the front runners and the laggers, having not sprinted. Yet, after the first half-lap, of 3-1/4 laps, I was already panting like a dog. Hypothesis wrong. Wet grass is a detriment. Friction helps propulsion, I thought for a brief second. "2:12"- first lap. It's all a matter of breath control. Pags (freshman) does this well, I was informed, and managed a 5:40. I don't. "4:55" end of lap 2- I was pacing, keeping Joey B. within view, while the head runners were still dashing. We were separated by half the perimeter of a soccer field. Lap three- even the head runners were losing steam over the wet turf. I gave up chasing Abe, he had a sizeable advantage. 3/4 through the 3rd lap- Abe was slowing down a little, perhaps tired. I saw Joey B. coming up from behind. I rounded the last corner, into the final segment, now in as best of a sprint as I could furnish. Joey B.'s longer legs propelled him past me for a two second lead, as I could hear him call out Abe's final time of "7:02". Joey's time was 7:09, mine 7:10. The coach was distracted, or maybe my brain was running time slow. So close to breaking 7, I was. Then I think of Abe. At the end of the 3rd lap, with a little clock, he would have mustered a full sprint to make it under 7. It's all relative. I had cut 1:05 from my previous time, averaging 8.4 mph (I'll recheck the sheet- yes, photographic memory), up from 7.1 mph on ideal conditions. What a difference one year can make. The leader, at 5:45, averaged 10.5mph. Impressive. I tried hard not to collapse to the ground. I had to lean on the soccer goal to stay up, as I took shallow breaths and felt delerious, and watched the trailers come in. Yet, 6:30 was the average time. Everyone was like that, 6:30. Anyway, the kid who I sent to hell in my Dante paper, he proclaimed that he knew CPR. I wouldn't let him become the proudest fellow, so I didn't pass out. Lots of replenishing water, and some indoor 2-ball soccer. Yes, we won. And yet, afterthree hours, my heart rate was still in the 110 range, definately aided by candy. But by Orchestra, another hour later, my cardiopulmonary had recovered, and my legs were starting to get sore.
So, I don't want to do that for another year. Make that "I'll never have to do it again in my life", because this is my last year of Phys Ed. So be it.
Then today, I come across a pair of handcuffs, made I never tried them to see if they were legit or not, but they looked like they were, even though they were made in China. Yes, EST is keeping us up. Even though I've switched my clocks, it still feels as if I were always given an hour by mercy- I have to get used to 6pm sunsets. Before I stay up until 10pm, or my body's 11pm, ciao for now.