Anatomy of a Captains' Practice

Ahh, the Captains' Practice . . . so called because no teams in the league are supposed to hold practices before August 1st--unless, of course, the team captains organize it. So as a recent alumni of my school's cross country team, I show up at the lovely Burke Lake Park, 6:15 sharp, eagerly awaiting the embrace of my greatest, oldest friends.

 There's still .475 miles of pain after this point . . . . especially when you  get lost at the amphitheater

Instead, I find five guys and a bunch of confused  looking freshmen.

So with a half-marathon coming  up Saturday and with my coach's (okay, my father's) orders not to do more than four miles, I volunteer to run with the seven freshmen. They can't be that slow. They're men, right?

Turns out, Burke Lake Park is what separates the boys from the men.

"So, how many *puff* years did you *huff* run cross country?" one skinny shirtless kid asked me, as I looked backwards to make sure all six of them were on pace.

"Four," I said. "And I ran both seasons of track, too." They were looking pretty tired. "You five doing okay?"

"Where is the two mile point? I've never run two miles." squeaked another of the four a few minutes later.

"In a few minutes. You know, if the three of you are getting tired, we can always slow down." Of course, being boys, they didn't want to.

"So . . . tired . . ." one freshman said to the other two miles later.

So I straightened my spine and talked some fire into him. I told him that if he could finish the run, he could do anything. That I had nine hundred practices under my belt. Lying, I told him that I'd never once stopped in the middle of a run. Finally, the lone freshman and I finished the loop and went back to stretch.

It was then I met Emily, one of our team's seniors, who had just returned from Chicago. Since she was in the middle of a run, I told her we'd catch up Saturday, when we held Captains' Practice at the equally lovely Wakefield park.

"Awesome!" she says. "I'll see you there! Saturday at nine, right? Can you give me directions?"

There's a few problems with that sentence. One, she's been there before. Two, she's one of the aforementioned Captains.

On a totally unrelated note, these Russian gymnasts keep falling apart on the balance beam. Olympic time!

--Liz Ellor, O43