State Cross Country 2016- An Analysis of the Women's Race

The 2016 North Dakota high school cross country season came to a close back in October just north of Jamestown, with the state meet happening on a beautiful Saturday and with almost perfect running weather and course conditions. Briefly, the champions were:

Class A Boys:

Team- Bismarck Century

Individual- Hunter Lucas (Senior)- Fargo Davies

Class A Girls:

Team- Fargo Davies

Individual- Karly Ackely (Senior) - Grand Forks Central

Class B Boys:

Team- New Town

Individual- Jalen Chase (Junior)- New Town

Class B Girls:

Team- Hillsboro/Central Valley

Individual- Reagen Baesler (Freshman)- Hillsboro/Central Valley

The meet was held at the Parkhurst Recreation Area near the Pipestem Dam north of Jamestown. The whole course was pretty flat, with few sharp turns, and all grass. The first part of the course was through open prairie, the middle part was through a small patch of pines, and the last part was through the prairie again. For athletes, the course was fast and adequate. For spectators, it was awful; the organizers even told us that the pine forest was off-limits to coaches and spectators (scoff). The parking, team camp space, and porta-potties was inadequate, but the location was off the main road and quite peaceful. 

Now, for the analysis of the Girls' races. The A and B boys races are here.

In the B race, there were 47 teams and 223 runners. That comes out to an average of 4.7 runners per team, which when considering that 5 runners score, is very small. Additionally, every school in the state can bring 10 girls runners to state, and so that number is actually staggeringly low. 25 out of the 47 teams- or 53%- fielded a full five runners. Much like the Class B boys, it seems that a handful of programs provide a majority of the athletes. The top 10 teams in the race (or just over 20% of the teams) provided 36% of the athletes.

At the coaches meeting, the topic was brought up about the increasing in participation numbers. Here's a look at the changes over time in participation at the Class B Girls' Meet:

Year        Runners     Teams
2004       144              25
2005       146              27
2006       153              28
2007       150              29
2008       179              30
2009       177              35
2010       172              41
2011       198              38
2012       196              37
2013       209              37
2014       208              39
2015       234              45
2016       223              47
          

As we can see from this list and graph, there has over time been a steady increase in both teams and total runners at the State B girls' meet. One interesting thing that I noticed is when there is a year with a jump in the number of teams, there is usually a small decrease in state participants, which is mind-boggling to me. Is it possibly that when co-ops are broken up that less athletes feel connected to team and thus don't participate? I have no idea. What I do know is that, like the B Boys, numbers are increasing, and that's good for the sport. If the numbers keep increasing at this rate, then 5-10 years down the road some tough decisions will have to be made, but for now those are tabled.

There isn't as much of a way to look at state cross country to see Class A increases in participation. Most of the Class A teams are able to bring 10 runners to state, and do (and there hasn't really been an increase in Class A teams either). In order to get an accurate picture of participation changes, one would have to look at regular season meets, especially the conference meets. I'm not doing that right now. 

Next, I wanted to look at the difference between the Class A and Class B times. In North Dakota, comparing state times from year-to-year doesn't make any sense, because the meet bounces around. The previous five state meets have been in Grand Forks, Minot, Valley City, Dickinson, and Fargo. Combining that with the fact that the weather can be all over the place (it was snowing in Dickinson at state, but this year was in the 50s and sunny), and comparing years doesn't work. However, we can look at how divisions compare to each other every year. This next list compiles the average of the top ten times in the Class A and Class B races every year going back to 2003. Additionally, I looked at the percent difference between the times by taking their difference, dividing by the original, and multiplying by 100. I should note ahead of time that this was the first year that Varsity Girls ran a 5k in North Dakota. Before that, it was 4k.

Year        Class A             Class B             % Difference
2016       18:14.8              19:10.4                 5.1%
2015       14:42.2              15:04.6                 2.5%
2014       14:37.7              15:26.8                 5.6%
2013       14:48.7              15:30.3                 4.7%
2012       15:11.7              15:54.9                 4.7%
2011       14:39.8              15:25.9                 5.2%
2010       15:12.6              15:50.7                 4.2%
2009       15:06.0              15:41.3                 3.9%
2008       15:16.1              16:06.3                 5.5%
2007       14:57.1              15:32.3                 3.9%
2006       14:59.4              15:42.8                 4.8%
2005       15:54.1              16:11.6                 1.8%
2004       15:27.4              15:34.5                 0.8%
2003       15:12.2              15:21.8                 1.1%  (overall avg 3.8%)

Three things immediately stand out to me in regards to this table. This first is that the percent difference between A and B over time is remarkably stable. With a few exceptions, the differences hovers in the 4-5% area. The second thing that jumped out to me was the low overall avg compared to the boys. This means that the top ten girls tend to be closer on average than the top ten boys when comparing A and B. The third thing that stood out to me was how the Anderson family could literally shift the whole landscape in the early 2000s. The fast times that those sisters ran (sometimes faster than the fastest A times that year) helped pull up the average time and bring it closer to Class A, specifically in 2003-2005. As I said on the other post, I'd like to eventually take a look at which distance events in track follow similar patterns to this, and use these percents to examine if our state qualifying standards are fair, or if they favor one class or another; however, that's another post for another day.

Of course, there is a reason that A and B have the differences.  I've talked many times on here before about why the difference between A and B exists, but to summarize briefly:

1.) There are simply less kids in Class B. If, let's just say on average, 5 out of every 100 9th graders go on to run under 16:00 (4k) in high school, that simply means less kids in Class B than Class A that can do it.
2.) Due to the school location and sizes, less experienced coaches have the Class B programs. It's entirely possible that a small school will have a coach that ran briefly in high school, while a big school could have a coach with a successful college career under his or her belt.
3.) The training facilities are much different. Bigger cities have big grass parks, running trails, and much nicer tracks. Small schools have country gravel roads and in most cases crappy tracks.
4.) Bigger schools tend to have more money to spend on programs like cross country and track and field.
5.) The team sizes being bigger in Class A schools affords athletes more chances to have running partners and people to push them. When, for example with my program this last year, there are only a couple varsity athletes separated by quite a bit of time, most of their training is on their own.

Now, the last thing I'd like to do is the hypothetical state meet when the upperclass(wo)men are taken out. Where does the future go? Here's a look at the breakdown of the top 40 runners by grade:

Class A:
Seniors- 5
Juniors- 4
Sophomores- 6
Freshmen- 11
8th Grade- 12
7th Grade- 2

Class B:
Seniors- 7
Juniors- 4
Sophomores- 9
Freshmen- 11
8th Grade- 7
7th Grade- 2

So again, as I alluded to in the previous post, these races (especially the A girls) were very young. Notice how in the A race there were more 8th graders in the top 40 than seniors and juniors combined. That's insane. I understand that more 8th and 9th graders are successful in the women's races than the men's, but still- wow.

The final thing I want to discus (that's not a typo if you read letsrun.com) is the next two years hypothetically. The idea is that all the seniors are removed from this year's race, and then it is re-scored to represent what next year could roughly look like. After that, seniors and juniors are removed and then only four runners are scored (to account for upperclass-heavy teams) to simulate two years from now. It's not an exact science, but hey- can't we geek out about these things?

Here's the breakdown for Class B:
2016:                                                               No Seniors:                  No Seniors/Juniors (score 4):
1.) Hillsboro/Central Valley           133          1.)H/CV             103     1.) Rugby 83
2.) Bowman County                       151          2.) Rugby           118     2.) H/CV  89
3.) Rubgy                                       153          3.) BC                 196     3.) BC      105
4.) Hatton/Northwood/Thompson  204         4.) So. Mclean    262     4.) HNT   184
5.) Southern Mclean                       311          5.) Watford City 273     4.) Surrey 184

The first thing I took from this is that Rugby has a very strong, young team, and within a couple years could take over the reign from Hillsboro/Central Valley. The second is that the top three teams seem solid for the next few years, no doubt because it seems like many Class B programs either continually breed large participation numbers (and more success), or try to survive on a few top runners every few years. Hats off to the coaches who continually produce large teams year after year in such an undervalued sport in Class B.

Here's the breakdown for Class A:
2016:                                           No Seniors:                          No Seniors/Juniors (score 4):
1.) Fargo Davies             71        1.) Fargo Davies 54             1.) Fargo Davies 39
2.) Bismarck Century     95        2.) Bis High        94             2.) Bis High        43
3.) Grand Forks Central 97        3.) Bis Cen         116            3.) Bis Cen          67
4.) Bismarck High         115       4.) GFC              139           4.) GFC               116
5.) Minot                        178      5.) Minot            152            5.) Minot            118

I think it's safe to say that Fargo Davies has a pretty good hold on the state for at least a few more years, unless they lose athletes to injury or another school produces some talented runners (both of which are completely possible). Notice how the top five schools do not change at all, and the order of the top five does not change for the last two scenarios. This class was the youngest of any of the four races at the state meet, so it makes sense that taking out older runners doesn't affect the overall results all that much.

Sorry for getting this out so late! I've been pretty busy with student teaching and such this semester, but I hope you made it through all the jargon in this post and enjoyed it. Merry Christmas!

Identity

When I finished my run, my right arm and knee were both covered with blood, and my feet and legs were covered with mud. I staggered to a stop and noticed a neighbor across the street staring at me intently, trying to figure out who the new intruder was in her comfortable little Phoenix-area suburb. Sweat was pouring down my face- it was humid and had just rained. So much for the desert. I walked inside to the family eating the breakfast that had recently been prepared. My white shirt had blood and dirt on it. They ate eggs; I went to the shower. Merry 'Christmas Eve' Eve.

Ok, let me back up a second. Now that I'm in Arizona, I finally get a chance to sit down and take a breath from all the travel of the past week. Our flight came in around 1:30am Central time, after a flight of naps and reading Sherman Alexie (sorry if my tone seems more sarcastic in this post- I'd like to think I'm inspired). One week ago from today I graduated from college. Well, technically they gave me a paper telling me my degree would come in the mail in a few weeks, provided I finished all my classes, but let's not get caught up in semantics. I shook the hand of the school President I've never met, told him thank you when he congratulated me, and then I walked past a bunch of unfamiliar faces of parents, and sat down with a bunch of kids who were freshman when I started my junior year at UND. I could feel my heart slowly pounding through my neck as I sat there, watching grand marshals sitting up front with their doctoral robes and poofy hats reserved only for academic royalty. Each name called was followed by either a light applause or WOOOOOOO YEAH AAABBBBBYYYY YOU DID IT BABY GIRL I LOVE YOU WOOOOOOOOOO, all depending on how your family would choose to present themselves around thousands of other people. Every time we needed to stand up in order to hear a song we weren't familiar with or listen to an enthusiastic speech from someone we've never met, I got light-headed because I ran an hour this morning and couldn't bring a water bottle in with me.

Oh yeah, I woke at 6 and ran this morning. It was all gravel and cold, with a hint of stars overhead. I only came across one man out working- he was wearing Carhart and I was wearing Asics, so it was a tradeoff. I did my usual winter running style where I run into the wind until right before I feel frostbite coming on, and then I turn around and enjoy the wind at my back for the other half. I get back whenever ice has sufficiently covered my entire face, and after joining with Ingrid to send her niece off to the morning bus, I collapse back for a long nap. People say you can sleep when you're dead, but you can do it when you're alive too. Well, I slept so hard that the line between the two was as fuzzy as my head when I woke up. Can we agree that I was only a little late for graduation because the train held us up in Grand Forks?

After visiting my "new home"*, it was off to Fargo for graduation dinner and a short Christmas with my family. Fortunately, the Bison were playing so the interstate was packed, while the eateries were quiet. The long table next to ours at Johnny Carino's was another UND grad, so Fargo benefited wholly from UND's graduation. After the ritual of complaining about the cold and commenting on the music and atmosphere of the restaurant, we got down to eating, opening some presents, and calling it a night. Next day was off to northern Minnesota for Christmas with Ingrid's fam.

After driving more hours into the north woods, burning fossil fuels while discussing renewable energy, we were able to calm down for a day. This gave me a chance to explore the new area. We were tucked into the little lake outside of Grand Rapids, near the Mesabi trail. I decided to check it out, only to realize that it was completely covered in snow. Check. Next I went around the outskirts of town to find small highways or gravel roads to run on, but the only roads in and out of town were the main highways with no sidewalks. Check. Next I...aw screw it; it's -6F and getting colder with this front pushing through and my knee is sore. I headed back to warmth, food, Sherman Alexie, and Settlers of Catan (it's more of an addiction than a lifestyle, to be sure). The next day included a 7 hour drive home, a day off from running, and a pretty sweet cross-section of the northern United States and it's daunting picture of job loss in small towns, job creation in big towns, and light pollution to block our imagination the stars. It gets pretty dark in the winter without light.

The next day brought another 7 hour drive, this one to north central Montana to visit some friends with my days off after 'graduating'. The morning started off with a small excursion on the skis, which has been more and more fun over time, even though I still don't have good form and my knee is getting sore as a result. We have so much snow right now in the central and northwestern North Dakota, and more is promised soon. For the winter outdoor enthusiast, it's heaven. For the other 87% of the population, not so much. I'm with the former. I fly down the trails that I've worked to make, scaring up deer that have to bumble through the deep snow. I always wonder what it would be like to chase them. I hear Ingrid come down the road and speed back so we can get on the road. We do, and we fly through North Dakota; slow down around Williston because of snow and the exhaustive fun of being a little car in a trashed, destroyed, oil-boom landscape where money trumps everything; and then fly through Montana, slowing down occasionally for the drivers with the gall to only drive 5 mph over the speed limit. All said, we go through 3 different Indian Reservations and end the night by playing Settlers of Catan in Havre.

The penultimate day of our trip brought us down to Great Falls, Montana to visit a friend, before coming back up to Havre (pronouned HAVE-UR, not HAAV-RAY) for another night of S.O.C. Finally, I was able to lace up the New Balance Trail Minimus for another day of running, borrowing Ingrid's friend's fitbit because I didn't bring my GPS watch and my regular watch died on me (so young). Exploring the town showed Great Falls to be incredibly...average. There were little parks here and there with grass enough to wish that I could run on it, but even though it was 46F and melting, there was enough snow to convince me otherwise. The usual restaurants painted main street- Subway, DQ, McDonalds, etc...I was trying find my way down to the Missouri River, which goes through town and produces some cool small gorges on each side. The Missouri starts in the Rockies and meanders all the way through Montana, North Dakota, South Dakota, and all the way to St. Louis, before forming an alliance with the Mississippi and working together to get to the Atlantic. The roads that follow the Missouri are usually called the 'Lewis and Clark Trail', because driving a vehicle with a 6L engine across the prairie near the river (containing multiple dams and resulting lakes) is somehow similar to dragging a dredgeboat up against the current for months, taking wildlife along the river and trading alcohol (illegally) with the Natives. Oh well, the drive into Montana was our little expedition- we just weren't reporting to the President.

Great Falls has mountains in the distance, and as I ran towards the edge of town, I wanted to run to them, run up them, and let them call me in. I wanted to go west to Glacier NP and disappear into the vast wilderness, away from the tourists that congregate in the valleys. Instead, I saved my knee and headed back to the house and ate a banana and played with a cute little dog instead. To each their own; I am who I am- a man with flaws. Ingrid and I headed back up to Havre, spent the night, and drove the 7 hour drive back to North Dakota the next day. When we got back, we could have sat down and relaxed; we could have unpacked and cleaned up our messes; we could have watched a movie together after a week of driving, visiting, and hurrying; but no, we went for a run. The stars here were beautiful, the galaxies streaking overhead and the western sky twinkling as we kept moving. It's here on the run that we remember all of our memories together- how our relationship was built on that sacred time. For the time being, out on a country road in the middle of nowhere North Dakota, we can be who we want to be- we can be silly, funny, bouncy, dumb, angry, sad, happy, hungry, extravagant, still hungry, or tired. Odds are, most days we fit most of those qualifiers. Odds are, we're ok with it. The time we can spend together after long days of travel is crucial, if not necessary. The pizza can wait, the presents can wait, the Netflix can wait- for now, the sound of our shoes scratching on gravel and the stars above head is all that matters. We hold hands.

As I scrape mud off of my bare feet, I look at the palm trees around me. After another four hour drive across North Dakota, a flight to Denver, and a flight to Phoenix, I am here to stay for a few days. I can't help but think back to yesterday morning, when I got a morning run in as the glow of morning hit the horizon. The colors of the sky started deep red, blended into a bright orange, and morphed into a sleepy blue. The last of the stars shone next to the half moon, and the only sound was the wind. The snow didn't stir, and the open lake still lazily floated east. Those will stay as some of my favorite memories. Now, after a warm, humid run, I look at my body. I was running barefoot on compacted dirt next to a asphalt path next to a canal, and my feet were quite dirty as a result of some of the mud. I relished the opportunity to run barefoot again, and so once I got back to the cement of the town, I kept my shoes in my hands. I was enjoying running barefoot so much that I didn't pay attention to a large metal sign standing by the sidewalk. I moved to the side briefly to avoid it, but it wasn't enough, and I smoked it with my right elbow as I pumped my arm forward. The pain didn't seem like much, and I was really self-conscious about running barefoot on a sidewalk in an unfamiliar place, so I didn't think much of it. When I arrived at the house, I noticed blood running down my arm to my hand, blood on knee, and mud on my calf and feet. I paused for a second- this is who I am. And ya know what? I wouldn't have it any other way.


*Direct quote from the CEO of the UND Alumni Association referring to the new Alumni Center on Campus, where they encouraged us to come get snacks and we were treated with sugar cookies that gave me diabetes and trendy, hashtagged photo frames to take pictures with.

Building the House

I came to a stop. I was tucked back in a grove of trees many miles off the main road, and I had found it. The breeze slipped through the trees and the rays of sunlight bobbed through the branches. I decided that here was my chance to finally do it. I unloaded all my tools and got to work.

My goal was simple: I wanted to build a house from scratch; tirelessly working through every step of the process until I had something that was, well, mine. I took out my ax and started chopping away at a tall, healthy looking tree. Tick Tick Tick echoed through the woods and reverberated around the air. As sweat began to roll down the back of my head, I stopped to stand up and stretch out my back. Doubt began to creep into my mind, telling myself that I had no chance of finishing this project. The summer was only going to get hotter and hotter, and the demands of this labor were going to be crushing me quite soon. I picked up my ax and ignored the rain clouds coming. It was late May.

A car came rumbling down the old logging road, complete with a squeaky suspension system and an American flag flying out the back window. I stepped through my empty doorway, surrounded by horizontally stacked logs and a fresh foundation below my feet. I figured that this new driver was here for a weekend of July 4th camping, so I went out to meet them. When he came out, I looked into his vehicle and noticed a lot of the same things that I currently was using. It dawned on me that I wasn't the only person here to build a house. Under the sweltering summer heat, the newcomer brought out an ax and walked over to a nearby tree. He looked at me and smiled- he was here to build a house too. I smiled back.

I was awakened by the sound of lightning and wind- an August thunderstorm. I could feel my structure being harassed by increasing wind gusts and pelted by rain. I immediately hopped out of my bed and looked over at my  neighbor. He didn't yet have a roof over his head and was surviving in his little tent. He had a long way to go, but don't we all? I went to each of my corners and joints and checked to see if any water had leaked into the house. All was clean, but I couldn't vouch for my neighbor.

A few days later, I started to notice that he was building fast- too fast. He was putting up boards in lines that weren't perfect even. His corners and joints didn't match together perfectly. His equipment and supplies were old and not adequate. I walked over to ask him why he was building so fast. He responded that he knew winter was coming soon and he had to be ready, and so he wanted to get done with as much as possible in a short amount of time. I tried my hardest to convince him that building a house takes time, effort, and some good luck, and that he would need to slow down in order to be ok long-term. I listened to the wind- a soft, north wind with a hint of fall in it. He was right to say that cold was coming soon, but a house can't be built on shoddy foundation.

The first snowflake gently fell on the ground, followed by another, and and another. I had recently finished enclosing the outside of my house, and though the outside still needed plenty of work, and the inside had no improvements at all, I might be able to stay warm during the winter. I looked out my small, east-facing window and checked up on my neighbor. He was running over to my house.
"Hey do you have any extra wood that I could borrow? I need to finish closing up some holes"
I lent him some wood and watched him frantically run around his house the rest of the day, stuffing papers and insulation into as many small openings as he could find. Winters get cold up here, ya know.

The thermometer read -10F. The snow was thick outside as I fetched some more wood to put on my fire. The smoke lingered gently above the smoke stack on top of my house. Jack Frost had drawn all over the windows, and the last of the stars glistened in the sky as the morning sun decided to take a late peak over the horizon. I sat down on my chair and grabbed a book off the shelf. I was nearing the end of completing my house. The roof needed a little work after the snowpack eroded in the spring, and the inside needing some tidying up, but overall I took pride in making sure the house was solidly built. My neighbor left a few days ago. He couldn't take the cold anymore, and his poorly-built house couldn't support him. Since then we've had another big round of snow and the weight of it all caused his flat roof to collapse. Now it's a giant pile of wood and broken dreams.

I don't feel bad for him. Everybody wants the nice house to show others and enjoy spending time in. Everybody wants their house built quickly and for the best results. Everybody wants to maximize output and minimize input. He left because he hadn't taken the time to make sure that his house was prepared for the worst. Sure, I have to spend a lot of time cutting wood. Sure, every now and again there's something with the house that needs a quick fix. But what's important is that it's fixable. A house that isn't built properly will fail. and the person who built it will have to start over at square one. For the rest of the winter now, I'm by myself. I assume that when the weather improves, someone will come looking for a place to make their home. Some will make a sturdy building, some will not. For now, I'm simply glad that I took the time to make sure the house was built beautifully and in a way that I can enjoy it.

The sun is out now. A breeze from the west blew in overnight and now the snow is dipping from the trees, occasionally plopping right on my forehead. The high clouds wisp past without making a sound. The animals of the woods have emerged from their winter slumber and are playfully running around, not too far removed from my plans. I have my running shorts on and I'm out the door. I'm heading down the road and finding new trails to explore. The rush I get from it is exhilarating, and I'm thankful for everything I have. I also know that it all happened because of the task of building a house and doing it right. It's always better to do it right the first time, no matter how difficult or boring it may seem at the time. Good luck finding the house though.

State Cross Country 2016- An Analysis of the Men's Race

The 2016 North Dakota high school cross country season came to a close this last weekend just north of Jamestown, with the state meet happening on a beautiful Saturday and with almost perfect running weather and course conditions. Briefly, the champions were:

Class A Boys:

Team- Bismarck Century

Individual- Hunter Lucas (Senior)- Fargo Davies

Class A Girls:

Team- Fargo Davies

Individual- Karly Ackely (Senior) - Grand Forks Central

Class B Boys:

Team- New Town

Individual- Jalen Chase (Junior)- New Town

Class B Girls:

Team- Hillsboro/Central Valley

Individual- Reagen Baesler (Freshman)- Hillsboro/Central Valley

The meet was held at the Parkhurst Recreation Area near the Pipestem Dam north of Jamestown. The whole course was pretty flat, with few sharp turns, and all grass. The first part of the course was through open prairie, the middle part was through a small patch of pines, and the last part was through the prairie again. For athletes, the course was fast and adequate. For spectators, it was awful; the organizers even told us that the pine forest was off-limits to coaches and spectators (scoff). The parking, team camp space, and porta-potties was inadequate, but the location was off the main road and quite peaceful. 

Now, for the analysis of the Boys' race. The post for the Girls' races can be found here.

There were 49 teams in the Class B boys race. 

..

FORTY-NINE TEAMS. There were 265 athletes in the race, an average of 5.5 athletes per team, which is crazy considering we score five runners total for each team. In fact, only 25 of the 49 teams fielded five runners total, barely more than half. At the coaches meeting for Class B, the advisory committee mentioned how the increase in participation in cross country has been steep, so I decided to look into it. Here's a list of the number of participating athletes and teams at the state meet over the past few years (for you out-of-staters, in North Dakota right now any team in any division can bring 10 male and 10 female runners to state- there's is no qualifying):

2004- 157 runners, 27 teams

2005- 149 runners, 27 teams

2006- 180 runners, 30 teams

2007- 183 runners, 31 teams

2008- 188 runners, 32 teams

2009- 176 runners, 34 teams

2010- 185 runners, 35 teams

2011- 171 runners, 36 teams

2012- 191 runners, 36 teams

2013- 207 runners, 35 teams

2014- 221 runners, 40 teams

2015- 247 runners, 45 teams

2016- 265 runners, 49 teams

From this list (where 1 on the x-axis represents the year 2004), you can see after an initial increase around 2005-2007, it leveled off for a couple years. However, around 2012-2013, participation exploded, likely catalyzed by the similar increase in teams. Now, many of these new teams were only contributing an athlete or two, but the numbers can add up in a hurry. It is true that if the numbers keep increasing like this, something in the near future will need to be done to address the issue, which is something coaches are already talking about.

There isn't as much of a way to look at state cross country to see Class A increases in participation. Most of the Class A teams are able to bring 10 runners to state, and do (and there hasn't really been an increase in Class A teams either). In order to get an accurate picture of participation changes, one would have to look at regular season meets, especially the conference meets. I'm not doing that right now. 

Next, I wanted to look at the difference between the Class A and Class B times. In North Dakota, comparing state times from year-to-year doesn't make any sense, because the meet bounces around. The previous five state meets have been in Grand Forks, Minot, Valley City, Dickinson, and Fargo. Combining that with the fact that the weather can be all over the place (it was snowing in Dickinson at state, but this year was in the 50s and sunny), and comparing years doesn't work. However, we can look at how divisions compare to each other every year. This next list compiles the average of the top ten times in the Class A and Class B races every year going back to 2003. Additionally, I looked at the percent difference between the times by taking their difference, dividing by the original, and multiplying by 100. 

            Class A     Class B   % Difference

2016     16:03.6    16:27.4        2.5%

2015     16:15.8    16:58.0        4.3%

2014     16:15.1    16:53.0        3.9%

2013     16:16.7    17:05.7        5.0%

2012     16:07.8    17:19.4        7.4%

2011     15:59.0    17:13.3        7.7%

2010     16:52.1    17:34.4        4.2%

2009     16:12.1    17:06.3        5.6%

2008     16:39.9    17:19.5        4.0%

2007     16:10.6    16:38.7        2.9%

2006     16:29.5    17:09.1        4.0%

2005     17:06.5    17:23.6        1.7%

2004     16:53.0    17:49.5        5.6%

2003     16:19.0    17:10.0        5.2% (overall avg 4.6%)

The first thing to note is that because state is in a different place with different weather every year, the times will vary greatly. State XC my senior year (2010) is one of the slowest on the list, and I recall that only 5 of us in Class A broke 17, while only one did in Class B.

From this list, we can see that the depth of Class B compared to Class A varies significantly from year to year. However, the overall average difference in the average top ten times comes out to around 4.6%. Later in the girl's post I'll examine the Girl's races and see what their percent difference is. I've talked many times on here before about why the difference between A and B exists, but to summarize briefly:

1.) There are simply less kids in Class B. If, let's just say on average, 5 out of every 100 9th graders go on to run under 17:00 in high school, that simply means less kids in Class B than Class A that can do it.
2.) Due to the school location and sizes, less experienced coaches have the Class B programs. It's entirely possible that a small school will have a coach that ran briefly in high school, while a big school could have a coach with a successful college career under his or her belt.
3.) The training facilities are much different. Bigger cities have big grass parks, running trails, and much nicer tracks. Small schools have country gravel roads and in most cases crappy tracks.
4.) Bigger schools tend to have more money to spend on programs like cross country and track and field.
5.) The team sizes being bigger in Class A schools affords athletes more chances to have running partners and people to push them. When, for example with my program this last year, there are only a couple varsity athletes separated by quite a bit of time, most of their training is on their own.

From the list above, you can probably see why some make a big stink about private schools in Class B, but that's another topic for another day. In later posts, I'd like to compare the difference between A and B in track races, and see if the different state qualifying times reflect that, but that's also another post for another day.

The last thing I'd like to do for this race is the age-old pastime of taking out all the seniors and scoring each race to see which programs will be coming up the next few years. Incredibly, most of the races in the state were decently young this year (especially the Class A Girls). In the top 40, here's the breakdown for the Boy's races:

Class B:
Seniors- 10
Juniors- 7
Sophomores- 11
Freshmen- 7
8th Grade- 4
7th Grade- 1

Class A:
Seniors- 13
Juniors- 9
Sophomores- 9
Freshmen- 6
8th Grade- 3
7th Grade- 0

Here's the breakdown for the B:          
Full Results:                           Without Seniors:                      Without Juniors/Seniors (Scoring Only 4)
1- New Town (18)                    1- New Town (21)                         1- New Town (24)
2- Rubgy     (85)                      2- Rugby (109)                              2- Rugby (63)
3- Bowman Co    (111)            3- Beulah/Hazen (153)                  3- Hillsboro/CV (93)
4- Hillsboro/CV    (152)          4- Hillsboro/CV (157)                   4- Beulah/Hazen (106)
5- Beulah/Hazen  (208)           5- Bowman Co. (213)                    5- H/N/T (156)

It should be noted that if only scoring three runners when Jr/Sr are both taken out, the top five teams remain unchanged. The conclusion from this list is that unless a school not listed above convinces some fast upperclassmen to join XC, or brings up some fast middle-schoolers, the top five in State B Boy's will not be changing anytime soon. There are only 6 or 7 programs in the state that field full teams, and most of them are listed above. Does this suggest another smaller division that scores less runners? In my mind yes, but that's again another topic for another day.

Here's the breakdown for the A:
Full Results:                             Without Seniors:                  Without Juniors/Seniors (Scoring Only 4):
1- Bis Century (62)                  1- Bis Century (52)                     1- Williston (36)
2- Williston (95)                       2- Bis Legacy (87)                      2- Bis Century (72)
3- Bis High (105)                     3- Bis High (113)                        3- Bis Legacy (74)
4- Fargo Davies (132)              4- GF Red River (161)                4- Dickinson (99)
5- Bis Legacy (138)                 5- Fargo Davies (166)                 5- Minot (100)

I'm a product of the EDC and I have to ask....what's going on east part of the state?!?!? Notice that within a couple of years it is possible that no teams from the EDC will be in top 5 at state. Also, notice how next year it could be a Bismarck sweep of the top three spots. I don't know what's in the water in Bismarck, but that would be incredible. Also, we are officially done with the reign of BHS after all those titles from the early 2000s until the last few years.

So that was just a brief overview of the State XC meet on the boys' side this year. I'm currently working on the girls' overview, and after that there's all sorts of directions to go. For now, keep running!

Listening With Both Eyes Open

"GO!" Speed. Running hard down the straightaway and avoiding the junior high football team, taking the turn, running into the 35-degree wind, turning again, and finishing at the timer. "Eighty-Two, Eighty-Three, Eighty-Four" cuts through the air. There's some snow flurries. "HEART RATES...READY, GO". Hands fly up to the lower neck to feel the bouncing bob of being bushed. After fifteen seconds, hands are released, and recovery occurs for a short amount of time. The realization that it's cold flies in stark contrast to the fact that these 400s aren't getting any easier. The legs are becoming lead bricks, the lungs are feeling fire, and breathing is getting louder by the rep. In the middle of the workout, the first few easy reps are done, and the last few are too far away to have any sort of hope. This hurts. I smile, look down at one of my watches, and send off our varsity boy on his next rep. I look over at our varsity girl and say, "You start in 10 seconds." Oh, how many times I've been on the receiving end of that. I shiver- it's cold when you're not running.

Let's back up five days. We were pulling into the Class B Region Cross Country Meet in Beulah, North Dakota. This park where the meet is at is located at the base of the Knife River Valley, a beautiful, meandering stream through the rough western North Dakota carved terrain. To the south, the highway rises up through the buttes, cutting straight south to the interstate, while north of town the towers of the coal mines protrude high in the open sky. As teams begin to arrive, many of them in small school buses with "_____ county public school" written on the side, athletes dance around to warm up. It snowed overnight in this first week of October, and a light layer of wet snow covers the course. The couple teams in the western half of the state with tents bring them, the rest wish for a tent or tarp. We arrive in a mini van carrying all of our athletes and coaches.

At the coaches meeting, I'm an outsider. The coaches are all familiar with each other and all the athletes, and coaches sit down together and discuss all sorts of topics unrelated to running. To my pleasant surprise, donuts are being offered; I take a bavarian cream donut before someone beats me to it. Life is a race, after all.

Athletes are beginning to warm-up now. This particular course is, as the kids would say, savage. The race begins and ends on the flat valley floor. The other 4600 meters of the 5000 meter race are much different. Within the first mile, the runners must go up two decent hills that would qualify it as a perfectly legitimate cross country course just on those merits. After the mile marker, the runners get a slight break from hills and then have a steep downhill straight into a monster. The best way to describe the hill would be to take a western ND butte, spend too money watering it for a false sense of hope, and then make people run up it. If the runner survives that hill, they are 'rewarded' with quarter-mile downhills and corresponding uphills for the next mile. Then, and ONLY then, are they allowed to come all the way back down to the valley floor to the finish. Nobody has a decent kick left at the end of this race.

Being at the meet, there's a few realities that are simply impossible for the outside observer to ignore. The first is the absolute dominance by the New Town men's team. Not only do they sweep the top 7 spots in the race, but they have 6 of those runners ranked in the top 7 in the state. It could be argued that they are the best Class B men's team in state history, if not one of the best overall. Most of their runners are so fluid in their forms that it's quite fun to watch. Their coach, Mr. Anderson, was rewarded with a Coach of the Year award that will likely be upgraded in two weeks at state. Throughout the history of cross country in this state, New Town has been a force to be reckoned with, and this was no exception.

The second reality was the strong Native presence at the meet. It has impressed me since I was in high school how well reservation families and communities come out to support their athletes. Native athletes took many of the top 10 places in both varsity races, and many of the fans were as well. Especially with the Standing Rock protests going on, in which the rhetoric has been stepped up a notch and people are letting their blatant racism shine through, it seems wonderful that a sport like cross country can bring people together in the same manner week after week during the fall.

Being at a meet such as this regularly allows me the opportunity to look at the bigger picture. In reality, nobody outside of North Dakota cares about this meet. In reality, this won't pop up on anybody's radar for any reason. In reality, the results of this meet will disappear into the file boxes of small schools, delegated to cabinets in locked rooms in a corner of the school where old trophies collect dust. This is a course where during the second mile of the race a runner can feel as if they are running along a country road with their teammates, with little distractions or noise. Out here, nobody is watching besides the few who came to watch you. Out here, people don't simply drop by to 'check it out'. Out here, cross country is harder.

And yet, it means something to so many people. I saw tears after bad races and I saw tears after good races. I saw coaches sprinting across the open fields, trying to catch their athletes at the next checkpoint just to holler something encouraging to them that the runner might not even be able to process at that moment. I almost feel bad for the kids that grow up in places like California, where many of their races are run on nice, manicured, flat courses in perfect weather- they miss out on all the life lessons. Pain isn't just running up a difficult hill- it's running up a difficult hill in the middle of nowhere when there may not be many other runners around you. The mental pain of working hard in the conditions these kids are given is something that never shows up in the results. The true grit that it takes simply to make it to the start line might not reflect in finishing times.

Standing there at the meet, it occurs to me how incredibly isolated we are from most of the country. To a majority of Americans, Bismarck is a quaint little town where St. Carson Wentz IV came from. However, to many of the people in attendance (myself included), Bismarck is that big city that might be visited every couple weeks, having such amenities as Walmart, chain restaurants, and shopping malls with more than cute knick-knacks and t-shirts supporting the local high school. From here, Bismarck is more than an hour away. Opportunity here is much different: outside of coal/gas/oil industry and farm/ranching jobs, there's not a lot for people here. Sure, most towns have some kind of school, and almost every county has a hospital of some kind, that isn't what economically drives the area. Here, driving two hours for a cross country meet is perfectly normal, and anything more than that isn't out of the ordinary. We put together the entire western half of the state's class B schools and struggle to get 80 kids to toe the line of the varsity boys race. The blue sky runs off in every direction as far as the eye can see, and no matter how fast or how far you run, the landscape doesn't change much, and yet here we are, running and fighting against the elements. Except, I don't think of it as fighting. When you live here, either the wind becomes your friend or you go insane. The cold teaches you lessons, whether you listen or not. You see life and death of seasons, animals, and people. The more you fighting the prairie, the more unforgiving it can become; the more you embrace, the more inviting it can seem. Some people in our life are the same way.

As I watch my runners finish up their last truly difficult workout of the season, I have time to reflect on my own running and how much I miss the struggle. With student teaching and training my body how to run barefoot, my training has been hampered quite a bit this semester, but I've learned so much from these kids. The most surprising thing to learn has been the immense amount of power I have over them. I have hard-working, dedicated runners who will do whatever workout I give them. I could have them do training that makes them feel like zombies during the day, trying to make it from practice to practice, and they would keep going because coach said so. But that's not the business I'm in. At every step in the road I've been worried more about long-term development than short-term results. Maybe that doesn't produce state champions now, but it produces long-term runners who love what they do and want to share it. So there I stand, a coach with a watch in his shivering hand, sharing what he loves with those who can learn. Throughout it all, I find a sense of peace. From whence it comes I know not, but life, after all, is a race. It doesn't matter as much who wins, but what it took you to get to the start line. Be wary- I can't promise that the race won't be without a few hills and some gusty winds, especially in western North Dakota.

Walking on a Dream

Hills.

We are currently standing in the middle of a gravel road in rural Minnesota, waiting for a fellow runner to finish fertilizing the nearby corn field, and watching the west sky swell up dark blue, periodic flashes of white hurtling through the sky. We continue down the road, mile after mile passing by relatively calmly. Towards the end of the run the sky erupts in heavy rain, to which we start sprinting down the hills, headed for our final destination; we decide also that if the rain turned to hail we would make a break for a tree patch and bunker down there. Fortunately for us, all we received was a soaking that was borderline-baptismal. When we finally wandered back to the vehicle, rain abounding, I realize that we've been running for more than 90 minutes and that this was my longest run in more than three months. I take a deep breath and look at the clearing sky to the west: in two days I have a half marathon race in the North Dakota badlands. My legs hurt.

I'm panting and struggling up another hill. I'm on a warmup with a recently-made friend who is racing in the badlands with me. We are ascending a hill on the road that will take us to the #ndlegendary (sponsor) Maah Daah Hey trail. We are bunkered down at the Buffalo Gap Guest Ranch, a small western-style main street that almost nobody knows exists. They have the rustic western restaurant with expensive steaks, motel lodging with hitching posts right outside the door, and a cattle guard upon entering the area. Our half marathon race starts on the Buffalo Gap trail because trail miles 5 through 10 of the MDH are through Theodore Roosevelt National Park, and going through a national park presents all kinds of logistics problems. (For example, bikes aren't allowed in the national park, because they are too invasive on the experience or something. We can pave roads and make 'scenic drives' for people and their gas-guzzling campers through the wilderness, but if you want to ride a zero-emission bike on a dirt trail, that's a big no-no) Thus, the BG trail was created partially so that bikers and hikers (who would need permits for overnight stays) would not have to go through the national park.

The sky is clear blue and the temperature hovers in the 40s as the sun bounces back and forth off the buttes, the drops of water still holding onto the grass before the morning heat eats them up. We finish our warmup and congregate with the other folks out here to run in an area named for how unappealing it seemed to human habitation. Two days ago when I ran too far, I thought I wouldn't have people to race with; now I look to my right and see a guy who will absolutely roast me. I end up not being wrong.

The first few miles go by in a flash- the course is dry and relatively flat- so we pop off a few miles in the 5:45 range and ease in. We take turns lifting up the gate for each other (these gates are spring-loaded on the left side, so you pick up the right side, set it down, and it stays down. It's genius and I'm sure the local ranchers love it) and engage in conversation here and there. In fact, I'm even beginning to entertain notions that I could actually win this interes

Hills.

I'm hurting now. Being a product of the famed Red River Valley and raised in her oppressive flatness, hills and I have a respect/hate relationship, but the hills definitely wear the pants. By mile six I'm sucking wind, and my opponent is kind and gracious, waiting a few moments at the gate to let me through without dropping it. Soon it's not even worth his time anymore and he's gone, and when I say gone I mean he's over the next valley, and by the time I get to the top he's over the next one and gone. I'm alone.

I had never before been in a race where I found myself completely alone. In cross country or track, you may be by yourself, but you can still see your opponents. You may be leading the race, but you can feel the competition behind you. My legs now felt like the 10 pound brick that lifeguards retrieve during training, and I was becoming quite hungry. On some of the tougher hills, I found myself walking to the top, periodically turning around and checking for runners coming up behind me. There were none. The trail had received a slight rain the night before, and our favorite cattle friends had duly walked every inch of it, and as a result the whole length was covered in hoof-sized ruts and muddy stream crossings. I could feel my shoes beginning to weigh more.

As I finish a short trudge to the top of one hill, I opened a gate, walked through, set it down, and paused. I had traveled sufficiently far from the interstate that I couldn't hear it's annoying sounds anymore. I still could not see or hear another human being; there were no homes or sign of human life save a power line powering through just south of me, hell-bent on Medora. The gentle breeze was flowing through the prairie grass, and the prairie animals and insects sang that summer buzz in the valleys; this hum is one of the most peaceful sounds I know.

The rest of the race was a struggle. I managed to scare a lady out of her wits (she was talking on her phone while walking the 10k race and ignoring all the scenery around her- quite sad) and my fellow racer had time to finish his race, recover, and run out to jog the finish with me. My legs were done and all I wanted was food. The MDH had chewed me up and spit me out, completely unwavering in its devotion to destroy all that enter. My jersey was soaked with sweat, my throat parched and in need of water, and my shoes and calves were covered in mud. I loved every second of it.

I'm sitting and watching the Olympic Men's Marathon now. The pack has split and the only three left are two East Africans and our random white guy from America (not random if you follow distance running, but nonetheless seeing a white guy in a USA top in the top three of the Olympic Marathon is a strange sight). However, the cameras still take time to focus on all the athletes that have been thrown out the back. These are runners that have put in years and years of training just to get stomped in this race on live tv. They have made sacrifices unknown to the common person, and some even have entire countries cheering them on. I can't help but sit, stargazed, at those behind the lead pack. True grit right there. They are living the Olympic dream.

As I stood on top of the trail in the badlands, I realized that my dream was not far, far away. In fact, it wasn't even across this valley and over the next butte. No, my dream was somewhere in between. My dream was putting one foot in front of the other and enjoying the ride. We are meant to move, not sit. We are meant to run, not walk. We are meant to breathe. We are meant to dream.

What is Running- Standing Rock

My last post on here dealt with what running actually is to the people who do it, in all the various forms and manners nowadays. A fifth example of what running can actually be has sprung up recently and I think it's worth detailing. But first, the background...

Anybody with eyes and ears knows that North Dakota is a land meant for extraction. Driving through the countryside in eastern ND, it's obvious that every square inch of land is either allocated to farm land or small towns that support those who farm the farm land. Moving into central and western ND, cattle grazing land becomes mixed in with the farmland, but after crossing the Missouri it transfers over to mostly pasture. Sprinkled in are massive coal mines, oil fields, and small, delicate little state parks that are truly meant for either day trips or a place to put a camper so fish can be caught from our little reservoirs. We've taken a wild land and carved it up into neat pieces and mathematically calculated exactly how much of each mineral each acre needs so that over-exploitation doesn't occur.

This is the story of America, really. We expand, we fence, we sow, we reap, we profit, repeat. It's not necessarily always a bad thing- people in the world need to be fed right? In North Dakota this is most acute because we use as much space as possible for farm and ranch land. We fence off little areas of wilderness so people will leave it alone. I mean, look at the national park: there are oil wells literally outside the fences because companies will take any space they can, and how can a landowner turn down that kind of money in a lifestyle of western ND ranching? (not exactly the most luxurious of professions thanks to drought, too much rain, early freezes and blizzards, etc etc). I know that most of the talk is about finding a 'balance', but let's be honest with ourselves: industry always wins.

In the 1950s construction was finished on the Garrison Dam, a magnificent structure with amazing benefits. Hydroelectric power, water level and flood control, water recreation on the prairie- heck, even the Bible camp I work at lies on the shores of the dammed up Missouri River, and it's quite a beautiful place! But we seem to forget the dark side of the Corps of Engineers Project. Pristine river valley land, much of it owned by the Three Affiliated Tribes (Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara) was flooded, with some native towns engulfed completely and permanently. Sure, the tribes protested, but industry wins.

Now we deal with the oil boom that just swept the state in the last eight or nine years. I recall a teammate who worked out west one summer describing running out around the Watford City area at the height of the boom, and the picture he painted was not as beautiful as it would seem. In the rush to make money and extract, roads were covered with trucks and running was made to be quite dangerous. I remember staying with family in rural New Town during this time, and they warned me before I went out to run that I needed to stay off the main gravel roads because of the truck traffic. They weren't kidding.

Now the infrastructure is starting to catch up, and one of the big pushes lately has been to get the oil off of the rail and underground into the pipelines. One of these, the Dakota Access Pipeline, has been gathering attention on major news outlets. The proposal would have the pipeline cross the Missouri River near the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, which covers portions of South Central ND and North Central SD. Fearing the eventual pipeline leak into the water that they have come to rely on and have sacred meaning in, the natives there are taking a stand, or should I say run, against it.

You may have seen it in the news recently, but youth from the reservation ran more than 2,000 miles from North Dakota to Washington D.C. to deliver a high-profile petition with thousands of signatures and support from some celebrities, and they are asking for the Corps of Engineers to rethink the route and have conversation with the people there.

This is what running is. For them, running took the shape of fighting for what they believe in. Now, some of you reading this may think this whole petition is garbage. Why, you might ask, do they think they can also drive vehicles the whole way to protest an oil pipeline? Why, you might ask, do they use the very oil that they protest? How, you might ask, can we survive as a world right now without oil extraction in an attempt to find energy independence in an oil-crazed world? I don't know. But what I do know is that we all need to open up our ears to what others have to say.

Take for example North Dakota's proponent of worship- Theodore Roosevelt. He was a wealthy New Yorker who originally came to ND for hunting trips where he would shoot and kill enormous amounts of animals simply because he could. Later in his life, after a hunting trip in the Wyoming mountains where he killed hundreds of animals, he met the founder of the Audubon Society and was convinced to take a look at conserving land and animals, which he did. We now know him as the man who got the ball rolling on National Park and Wilderness areas.

We look at youth running 2000 miles for this cause, and we realize how important this is to them. We recall our own experiences running and wonder how awesome it must be to keep pushing forward, putting one foot in front of the other, for a cause we desperately believe in. Running, like I said before, is communal, and these folks had people to run and share experiences with. They used the ancient art of running to accomplish a mighty goal in order to stand their ground. Sometimes it takes a group of people running to get others to turn around and notice.

From an article on Indian Country Today Media Network:
"We are running for our lives against the Dakota Access Pipeline," said Three Legs, one of the participants, in a statement. "Now is the time for the people to hear our voices that we are here and we will stand strong."

Yeah, and they RAN the whole way for it. That's what running is.

What is Running?

As a runner without a team any longer, I often find myself asking the question: What am I running for? In high school and college there was always a clear goal- get into shape to beat people from the other teams and make sure I wasn't embarrassed on the first day of practice; now I finish a painfully-early morning run soaked in sweat and wonder to myself what the point of it all is. I recall swimmer friends of mine who had finished eligibility referring to themselves as 'swammers', but that doesn't fully encompass me anymore. I'm not a 'ranner' because I still run, but what do I- or anybody else for that matter- run for?

Running in the most basic sense is primal. We've all heard the stories about how our ancestors had to run down animals for miles and miles so they had food to eat. Our bodies as humans are better prepared for covering distances of 50+ miles moreso than almost all other animals of the world. In that sense we can literally chase our food to death. Because we don't live that way in America, we pursue passions of ours in much the same way, but events like ultrarunning (as long as it sounds) are gaining- dare I say- traction in many communities now. Due to our lack of actually struggling for food, we now have to find ways to challenge our bodies physically, thus the introduction of cross-fit, ultrarunning, and adventure racing. Because our bodies are so adapt to taking a beating, we have to make our big and long events even bigger and longer. I recall a few weeks ago I was running on a trail in the badlands and I came upon two mule deer eating peacefully on the prairie atop a butte. Silently I was able to approach them within 15 yards, but eventually they spooked and ran off. My first thought was to watch them go, but instantly after I wanted to chase them. I wanted to go off trail and run down the butte. I wanted to cross river and valley in pursuit of the animal that seemed faster. I wanted to keep going until I could stand next to my exhausted prey, it ready to concede defeat. I wanted to leave feeling satisfied. Instead I ran back to the campground and got ready for a 13-hour drive. But the instinct remains.

I think running goes even more primal than this. In my now six summers of working at a youth Bible Camp, I've seen my fair share of kids from all over central and western North Dakota. One thing I've noticed in the kids is the propensity to run everywhere they go. If they need to go to the bathroom, they take a buddy and run. If it's time for lunch they want to run to the lodge. If it's time to swim they run to waterfront. Everywhere they run, and yet it's something we take for granted. Take a moment to think about what goes on in your head initially before you run: you don't really say to your legs 'move faster and stride farther'- you just do it (not a nike sponsored post). Almost all of us are born with the eventual ability to run. It's like heartbeat in the sense that sometimes you can't even control it. For some reason, as we get older we don't run with the kids to places anymore. We walk or jog behind and reason that as long as they don't get too far away we are fine. We lose a little of that primal sense along the way. Our lungs forget how to breathe. Our legs forget how to take a little pressure. We forget the sound of the breeze flowing past our ears, not because of a tight pressure gradient after the passing of a low pressure system, but because we are moving faster than the air.

Wow, we are moving faster than the air.

One of the ways that running is most relevant now is through companionship. Running for many has become a means of finding like-minded people to share experiences with. There are thousands of different running groups, all with different purposes and inside quirks. Running a race has moved past winning and turned into a way to say that you ran and finished, which then becomes something to share with another person over a beer or a water. This sense of community is felt at all levels. Some professional runners claim to prefer training on their own, but many pros have training groups in order to successfully push each and have a little humanity. I myself can get weary some days when I have little reason to push. I wake up early enough that my primal instinct is shut off still, and with no other person to join, I could just as easily set the alarm for an hour later, roll over, and go back to whatever dream I was enjoying.

In this reason for running we tap into an inescapable fact about humans: we need other humans. Of course, there are hermits and loners among us, but at the human core is a desire to share time with other humans. Even in the story of when God created man, there was also a woman for companionship. School, work, camp, sports, camping, driving, singing, gardening- almost all we do is better with people to share it with. Running is no different. Many groups that run together find that secrets can be shared that nowhere else can allow. Something about sweating next to another person for miles and miles open up the heart a little and people can truly bond. I have had many runs with teammates where after we finish I will look at them and wonder to myself, 'did we really just talk about all of that?' Maybe being tired helps to break down walls and barriers, maybe staying mad at another person is harder when you are fighting your body to keep moving, and maybe sharing something as sacred as running can open you up, but life talks with runners while running is a real thing. Companionship keeps people moving.

One of the more profound reasons for running deals with the aforementioned fighting and pushing your body. Many can recall the horrors of living on the North Dakota prairie, because the lack of tree cover or mountains makes the land seem barren at times; you are perfectly exposed to all of the elements, all of the time. I am currently reading a book titled "Dakota: A Spiritual Geography" by Kathleen Norris, and in it she quotes a Pastor who says that in Dakota you "feel like everyone in the world can see you, but nobody is watching". This extreme exposure is a lot what being a runner is like- there is no hiding. I remember in my baseball days I could have a good game where I had a few good hits and pitched well, and to the casual observer who watched one of our games, I may have even seemed like a good ball player. However, even though runners can have their good days and bad days, there are limits. You can't have a 'good day' and run a 17:00 5k if you physically can't do that. If one person is faster than another, the faster person will win the race. The farther the race is, the more obvious this can become. Being one second faster than another in the mile can turn into 10 minutes in a marathon, and a close finish in an ultra is being 5 minutes apart.

The moral of the story is that racing is a fight against not only other races, but the clock. The track or the road can be a tragic and unyielding force of painful exposure of your fitness, but so can the clock. The clock is the most unforgiving of all things a runner faces; the clock could not possibly care any less about your training, your injuries, or how busy you've been. You either hit the time or you don't. You either beat others racers or you don't. You either finish your run or give up early and walk back home, head down and tail between legs. You either hit the alarm or hit snooze. You either run or you don't. How you do this doesn't affect the race course, competitors, or the clock. In other more team-oriented sports, these could be huge decisions, but in running they belong to you. And once you find companions to go with, all of your decisions immediately become obvious to all. In this year's Boston Marathon, the temperature spiked higher than people had expected, and many northern climate runners had little way to prepare for the heat. As a result, people blew up and struggled even to finish, and then the times were not even close to goals. There is no hiding at that point. You can't pass it off on teammates- it's on you.

This feeling can drive people away, but it can also pull people in. Knowing that running is a sport where the more you put in, the more potential to get out is comforting. How will you do when push comes to shove? Running is the great equalizer: once the run starts, all differences pass away. The more I learn about people, the more I come to not only understand our differences and struggles, but to love them. Running is something all people of all races, creeds, codes, ethics, religions, and genders can agree on and understand. Yet this drive cannot get me out of bed at 6am on a meager amount of sleep. I still want to sleep.

I recently had the privilege of spending a few hours with some youth who have not had life easy so far, and they make most of my daily struggles seem light in comparison. Some of the things that they would turn to in order to cope with life's stresses were things I would never consider doing, but everybody needs something like that. Every single one of us has things in life that we need some freedom from. Relatives, co-workers, work, cold- you name it and someone probably seeks asylum from it. We look for this peace in different things: drugs, alcohol, food, religion, relationships, nature, etc. For me, I've come to notice more and more than I can attain a deep peace from finding time to run and get away from everything currently going on. I honestly cannot count the number of times in college I came to practice stressed out and angry, and by the end of the practice I had forgotten about what I was bitter about. Yes, after practice everything would come back, but it never seemed as bad as before practice.

In the summer I've been able to see early morning sunrises and feel the fog lifting from the cool ground. I've been able to escape the camp for a short amount of time in order that I might have a place to breathe, to get away. Even where I proposed to Ingrid was someplace that we ran to, where we could be truly alone. I've been able to flee from the sound of big cities on running trails and gravel roads. I've been able to literally run from scary people or situations. I have went into corn fields to sit down and pray while listening to the wind roll across the leaves. I have been able to use running as a mental and physical form of rest, no matter how paradoxical that may seem. Many others have found the same peace, and that can also foster companionship. Running can be a natural way to flee something, but also to search for anything. We adventure and we seek, and the harder we look, the more beautiful what we find. If we let our minds go, pray, and seek peace, we can find it. No matter how much you run, the world still seems like a huge place. God's creation has little bits and pieces that are meant to be found only by the most diligent seekers, and running can take you there. Trust me, I've tried.

We are moving faster than the air.

An Ode to Heat

Anybody from the Northern Plains understands cold. We know what rosy cheeks and snow blindness are. We know the pain of having our fingers unthaw once we return inside from walking outside for five minutes with heavy gloves on. We know what it’s like to have icy eyelashes. We understand cold because a majority of our year isn’t warm. We rejoice when the sun shines, the snow recedes, and the warmth returns, but in this climate nothing too good can last for too long. The great plains are the war zone for mother nature to figure out her problems- specifically cold vs warm. No matter what- whether cold, wind, storms, heat, or anything else- we the people end up losing.

We forget about heat in honor of worrying about the cold. We all have a story of something outrageous happening on a cold day, but most of us also have a story from a hot day. I remember in high school on a hot summer day, we were cutting up fallen, dead trees at the farm and our water supply ran out. Sweating like pigs on a day with temperatures in the 90s, we decided to go grab some water from the local creek that filters into the Sheyenne River in southeast North Dakota. Fortunately for us, the water was cool and quite refreshing; unfortunately for us there were cattle upstream and we…uh…let’s say we learned our lesson.

I realized today that many of us up north really have no idea what heat is. In the winter we routinely bring our hands close our mouths and blow warm, moist air on them to heat them up. We can often see our breath floating away in the frigid air whenever we walk outside. Today when the temperature was in the 90s and the heat index was into the low 100s I had a thought worthy of revelation: when we put a thermometer in our mouth, we expect something around 98-99 degrees, which was close the air temperature and the air feel at the time. So I decided to hold my hand in front of my face and exhale, and in a moment that I had never experienced before, the air hitting my hand didn’t feel much different than the surrounding air. It was a weird magical moment where something I’ve always taken for granted opened up my eyes; such a small, insignificant idea that gets my brain going on a whole nother level. I don’t understand heat.

Not one hour earlier I was running out on the open gravel and trying not to die. The heat is suffocating because my body simply cannot cool down, and the treeless Great Plains countryside doesn’t offer any respite. My coach told me once that I must have good air conditioning, because I sweat A LOT; sometimes I’ll finish a run on a hot day and my shoes will be making squishy sounds, simply because my sweat has pooled up in my shoes and caused them to become soaked. It’s truly a wonderful life. It doesn’t take long for me to run out of dry spots to wipe off any sweat- I’m covered. It reminds me of a few summers ago when the temperature was again into the 90s and I was on the same gravel road, but this day I stopped sweating. Every quarter mile or so I had to stop and walk because my body was completely done with me, but I managed to make it back to camp, whereupon the food service manager looked at me, horrified. Apparently I was white as a ghost and still not sweating. This was my first and only experience with heat exhaustion; it took me two full days to rehydrate from that run.

I decided with the heat that I should not fight it, but learn instead to embrace it. With my current understanding of wind, I know that the more you fight it, the more you lose. If you use the wind and let it make you stronger, you can grow and become less bitter as a person. I sometimes get quite bitter at heat, so today I tried to simply be at peace with it. I surprised myself how much better this run went compared to any other high-heat runs I’ve done before. That’s how life is though, isn’t it? We push and shove against things totally and completely out of our control, when we could be instead learning from it and trying to make peace with it. I wish there was a word in the English language that could fully encompass this idea: it’s not fully peace because you are still struggling against something, but you recognize the potential that it can bring you and it therefore becomes a means of growth. It then becomes a different kind of peace that Christians know quite a bit about in our world. We know that sin abounds and can be easy to struggle and fight against, gaining no traction, but we also learn from it and learn peace from Jesus’ sacrifice for us. It’s this unique feeling of peace that I found while it was hot.

Because it was.   

Mountain Running and Police Shootings

This moment is going to be stressful. I squat slightly, look at my goal, and explode from my position. In a wave of flurry, my left foot strikes dry, right foot strikes dry, but my left foot soaks a little before I land with a soft thump on the other side. I turn around and see where I came. I just crossed a small creek of rushing water, the recent rains filling up the path with water and making crossing much more difficult than usual. I spend a millisecond lamenting the minute amount of water in my shoe and then take off back up the hill. The uphill portion of this trail started at the trailhead and so far, in 20 minutes of running, hasn't stopped. I'm exhausted from the high altitude but determined to keep going, no matter what my North Dakota legs think of this- usually the uphill stops pretty soon after it starts where I come from. Soon, I am rewarded when I pop out of the thick forest and into a gorgeous meadow. Here, up at almost 9000 feet I am still surrounded by towering mountaintops far above my head, but there is nobody here. There are no houses, roads, or anything unnatural because this is protected wilderness. The only sound is the rushing stream behind me. In front of me is an open area of wildflowers, green grass, and a stunning view of the terrain around me. I stop and soak it in; this is peace.

When I arrive back at my car, I don't even bother turning on my phone because there is no service here anyway. Ingrid and I are meandering through the back side of New Mexico and Colorado on our way back from a trip to Northeast New Mexico, and the views are amazing. We stick to FM radio to listen to music, and our phones do us little good out here. We spend days camping and sleeping under the stars, living out of a vehicle, running trails, and exploring places we've never been to before. It's a new way of living that I've experienced for this time, and it's exhilarating. I don't check my email, facebook, twitter, or really anything connected with the 'real world' for days, and it's freeing. Living in Creation for now is great.

We finish up our trip with a final push across western South Dakota and western North Dakota to get back to the camp. As we arrive, the sun is slipping beneath the horizon and coolness sets upon us. The smell of the grass fills the air and the wind is calm. Some staff play games outside with nobody to bother or interrupt them. We spend time catching up with them before they take off into the sunset, canoeing to find Pokemon for the new PokemonGo app that everybody apparently is raging about. We kick back and relax from a long and exciting trip. We already miss the mountains.

I open up my computer to check on my neglected emails. Upon finishing that, I find my way over into the social media realm. After seeing the flashing red news, I am immediately flooded with information I don't want to see. Two separate cases of police shooting black Americans. A protest in Dallas over the insanity. Execution-style murders of police officers at said protest. I watch the live streams from the major news stations- police were literally gunned down because they were police. I watch the youtube videos and hear the absolute fear in the voice of the Minnesota cop when he realized what he had done and that the lady was videotaping the whole thing- he knew his life was forever changed. I think about the families that lost loved ones this week. I think about the fact that this isn't even a surprise to us anymore. Ingrid and I were driving towards Denver and we noticed the sign for the exit to Columbine, which she then mentions as the place with the shooting. That's how we identify places now. I can't sleep because I don't want to. It's 12:56 am.

I was reading through facebook comments on one page following the Dallas shooting, and it was a person asking for a leader to stand up and actually change things. I hope that at this point we can all agree that no amount of gun control will ever solve our current problem. Yes, there are little things here and there that we could call 'common sense solutions' in regards to weapons, but those won't solve the main issue. We have people in this country who are afraid to get pulled over because they run a risk of getting shot. We have officers in this country who wonder if the person they just pulled over is a maniac about to kill them. We have leaders standing up and saying that we need to do something, but nothing gets done because that's the world we live in- everything is talk. We will sit down and have a sound discussion. We will contact to the appropriate people to determine the proper course of action. We will introduce legislation (that deep down we know will have no chance) and hope that -insert political party here- will address the issues we present. People are fed up.

You know what? This person was right- America is currently in desperate need of someone who is willing to grab the reins and say enough is enough. That isn't Trump, and it isn't Clinton. We've hit the point where we really NEED a leader for the history books. This isn't a problem that bickering back and forth and procuring laws can solve- it's something in all of our hearts. Jesus embodied these virtues when he spoke of loving your neighbor and letting people with no hope or money have a spot at your table. It would be easy for me to say that we need Jesus, but some people wouldn't go for the whole 'Christianity' thing. No, what we need is a leader who acts, talks, and lives like Jesus did. We need someone to love people, but also hold them accountable. We need someone who people can look up to but not blindly follow off a cliff. We need someone who will not be afraid to do what's right- even if that is hard.

I had an interesting thought this weekend while trekking up and trying to summit Harney's Peak in the South Dakota Black Hills: perhaps being away from it all while running on a trail is peace. I mean, I'm breathing like a darn work animal, but all of my problems disappear completely for a time. Life becomes adventure and exploring a wilderness still pure and untouched. Life becomes a lot simpler where you cannot be bothered by outward problems. Perhaps this is why mountains have always enthralled us so- a glimmer of hope and peace in an otherwise unrelenting and chaotic world. We test ourselves against a nature that wins every time, but we learn more about life through the process. If we all took a chance to stop and breathe fresh air from time to time, our bitterness might temporarily subside and our joy may abound. We are want to look for problems in others, but God has given us a playground in our midst. We have the ability to not only genuinely pray for others, but to take care of them and lend them a helping hand. Maybe, just MAYBE, our world can become a better place. Lord help us all.

Hometown

I step out the front door, stride to the end of the driveway, and await satellites. My IT band is hurting a little today, so we'll see how the run goes. The sun is out and everything is lush green, the early-summer rains having been on and off for the past week. To my left is a political yard sign sticking out of the green grass- I smile. There is a big race for Mayor coming up in a little more than a week, and the town is covered with signs and flyers. My dad is running for Mayor, and thus the sign for our own yard. My watch beeps; I start running.

As I turn the first corner on the asphalt road, I am slapped in the face with a decent wind. It's a little warm and humid, so the breeze feels refreshing. I continue forth and recollect. This house is where the elementary secretary when I was in school lives. This house is a guy that used to be on city council. Hey I used to babysit the Pastor's kids there! This house has a different yard sign. Oh yes, the opponent. The current Mayor is done, so there are two challengers, my dad and another lady, for the position. The lady I don't know personally, but her son and I went to school together and we were confirmed together with six other kids in the only church in town, Horace Lutheran. We live on the west side of town, they on the east.

There is a weird dichotomy in this town. County Road 17 cuts right through the middle, serving as a de facto Main Street with decrepit businesses, the firehall, and the bar (which the lady running for Mayor part owns and has put up a sign on the door of) lining the way. On the east side sits the 'older' side of town. There are less trees and the houses look a little older and more worn. This side of town hosts the city hall further south, the building which used to be where the sixth-graders had their classes at Horace Elementary, but then they picked it up and moved it once six-graders had to go to school at Cheney Middle School in West Fargo; the baseball diamond right by the one stop-sign at the Co 17 intersection, which has been renovated with new dugouts, a machine shed, and my brother's eagle scout project of batting cages; an old car shop that still produces effective business and work; and the bar, the ritualistic meeting place for many a North Dakotan (it's affectionately named the Sheyenne Bar after the Sheyenne River that flows through town, close to the end of its journey of searching for the mighty Red River of the North).

On the west side of town, there are more trees and wealth, but less business. The once-proud town elevator sits on the west side of Main, right next to the railroad that used to get much more business on its way to Fargo, but now comes to Horace, turns around, and goes back. The rail was literally taken out of the ground where it crossed Main and worked it way past the gas station. The west side hosts the elementary school, being expanded to accommodate the fact that there are more students grades 1-5 in Horace now than there were people in town in 1970; our only apartment complex, which used to be the high school (home of the Horace Hornets) before it shut down in the 70s due to low enrollment and proximity to West Fargo; the Horace Senior Center, home to the Lions Club, bingo, large church gatherings before the new church was built, and the town election center on voting day; and my house, my home.

It takes me about 35 minutes normally to run through all the roads in the town, and that's what I do. I work my way back to the neighborhood I first lived in when we moved to town. The trees we planted have grown considerably in the last 10 years, but other than that not much has changed. This house we used to call the doctor's house when we were waiting for the bus to come in after picking up the country kids; 7:15 am feels a lot earlier these days. Guy running for city council, our old house, the family that had the crazy dog named Snuggles, a girl who ran cross country with me, the old high school principal, and the Ladwig house (I wonder what happened to Derek and Shelby). I sweat my way down the Ironwood and Chesnut loop. This house had a girl named Alyssa who moved to Texas or something, this house had some family from Alabama move in late in high school, this house is where Andrew and I ate a whole box of frozen waffles before walking around drinking bottle root beer. Later in the loop was the church secretary, some guy named Sam who was a year ahead of me (before they moved), and the guitar guy at our church. I stopped and paused at one house. A banner proclaiming 'congrats on graduation!' was hanging from a massive, beautiful boat. I didn't expect that. I kept running, making sure to avoid the puddles in the poorly-engineered and equally poorly-drained roads.

By the time I get over to the east side of town, I'm approaching 20 minutes of running. I cross main (making sure to not get hit by anybody driving through the LED-flashing stop signs) and head past the baseball diamond. There are definitely less political signs over here, but they are here. My town is at a crossroads. From this middle part of town, Fargo Davies high school and the neighboring water tower are clearly visible, an indication that Fargo is hungry and about to devour us like they did to the now-afterthought of a town Frontier. They keep expanding south. We have tapped out our sewage and can't build- we are sitting ducks. The 'old guard' of town wants to keep Horace the small little farm town of the good ol days, while the 'new guard' recognizes the need for growth. The 'old guard' currently controls the city government, while the 'new guard' is ready to pounce on opportunity. I find myself going past houses of high school classmates, and upon seeing no yard sign, feeling disappointed. The capacity for politics to make people question relationships is truly stunning. I vow to myself, like undoubtedly most people have, that I would never let politics corrupt me. We'll see how that goes someday.

I finish off by doing some barefoot running at the local Independence Park. It's tucked into the middle of town, with absolutely nothing to declare it's there; people in Horace forget it exists. The city put up a frolf course for a few years, but upon viewing the visitors (and the subsequent daily return of our part-time cop that can go days without being seen), things changed. We don't have a frolf course anymore. I keep running on the soft ground- nobody is here. The wind is blowing and all is quiet. Somewhere south of town someone is driving on the highway. This is my hometown.