I think the most striking aspect of flying into Los Angeles is not the mountains, and it certainly isn't the ocean; no, the most dizzying thing to see is the houses. As far as you can see in any direction is tightly packed housing developments and roads. We fly past school after school, business after business, housing space after housing space, and land right in the middle of it all. When we walk out of the airport, we are treated to a clogged road full of busy people honking their horns at each other and folks on the sidewalk yelling for a taxi. Our hotel, not more than a few miles away, takes more than a half hour to arrive at. When we arrive, I head quickly to my room (no roommate- perks of having an odd number of guys and being the senior captain) and instead of relaxing on the bed (after all, it is almost 11:30 pm central time), I lace up the running shoes and head out to explore. This is where the real learning happens.
I must admit, running through the streets of LA at night by myself is a little unnerving. I'm the only distance runner, male or female, on this trip (in fact, my coach is with all of them at their meet this weekend), so I was running solo. My first thought is to find a nice running trail, but after a quick search, all I find is the main highway with tons and tons of cars and noise- this simply won't do. I cut off and head down one of the side streets. The sidewalks are not lit as well, but it's much quieter and peaceful. The first thing to strike me is that little gated communities and houses are everywhere. Call me naive, but it surprised me that I would be running past house after house and suddenly 'pay us a lot of money resort' appears on the left with a gate and a sign that says something like "ALL TRESPASSERS WILL BE TREATED WORSE THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE OH AND WE HAVE A DOG THAT WILL EAT YOU IF YOU EVEN TOUCH THIS GATE WITHOUT PERMISSION". Inside will be lush green grass and gardens, super-expensive housing, a pool, and then outside the gate it will continue with house after house again. I guess I always expected these developments to be farther away from all the 'regular' housing developments, but I'd be wrong. I can imagine growing up here would give you some sort of disdain for the fancy people with fancy cars that live inside gates specifically to stay away from you, but paradoxically at the same time you might make it your goal to be successful enough to be able to do the same. Huh
So in North Dakota's oil fields, you have towns and you have gravel roads heading for the oil rigs and pumpjacks; they are separate. Not here. Similar to the gated communities (all 8 million of them), you can be running down a sidewalk through a community and suddenly there will be a little open space, an oil pumping station, and then back into the community. It's the goll darnedest thing I ever done seen. It seems people around here have made peace with the oil around the area (either that or the people in charge of making decisions in town have been paid a ton of money by oil companies
Oops! Time to head back and try to remember the zig-zaggy route I took to get back to the hotel. I was having a lot of fun running because for the first time in more than a week I'm not running with pain. I somehow managed to get my hips out of alignment, but my athletic trainer Sara (bless her soul) fixed it and it feels sooooooo good. I somehow have energy in my legs again after a big, intense training block. I make it back to the hotel and call it a day. I'm asleep within half an hour.
After a lot of sitting around the next almost two days, it's finally time to head to the track. It's 9 in the evening, the temperature is hovering around the 60 degree mark, and the wind has went back to North Dakota where it'll stay probably. The distance events are the only thing going on this late at night, and the stands are much more empty compared to earlier in the day; actually, the only people here are distance runners, coaches of distance runners, and the other 4-6 people here because they simply want to watch distance running. So in a nutshell, it's a dream. I get checked in and go on warmup, where I see many other 5kers out and about, and I feel no tension- this is fun! Well, except the pb&js I had earlier, they are trying to give me troubles. I get back to the track and head over to the 'hipping area' where we get our hip numbers, and chaos breaks out. An announcement comes over the intercom for all men's 5k runners to head to the hipping area, and so all 80+ of us cram into this little tent to get our numbers. We need to get our spikes checked before walking in, and the line is out the door. Everybody is looked around, not really sure what's going on. Can we leave this tent now? Are there bathrooms to use if we can't? Where do we leave our stuff?
Announcer: *1st HEAT OF MEN'S 5K IN 15 MINUTES*
Oh my gosh oh my gosh I'm not even warmed up yet! I still need to use the bathroom and do my strides and do my stretching and...I look over at a fellow runner from South Dakota State and he looks at me, shrugs, and says 'I swear it wasn't like this last night'. Great. I'm officially flustered at this point, and I'm starting to get claustrophobic. I get my hip numbers after a frantic search to find any stickers with '11' on them and
*1st HEAT OF MEN'S 5K CAN GO ONTO THE TRACK NOW IF YOU HAVE YOUR HIP NUMBER*
head over to the exit of the tent and ask if we can leave the tent. Yes, he says. YES. I sprint to the bathrooms and do what I must before heading out and quickly getting my warm-up drills done. I realize that I'm still flustered, and I take a moment to simply breathe. I look up at the stars and see all three of them. Actually one of them is a satellite, so it's only two. I find myself missing those smaller meets back home where everybody knows each other and you can do your warmup without being herded like cattle and hollered at over the inter
*2ND HEAT OF MEN'S 5K CAN GO ONTO THE TRACK NOW. FIRST HEAT IS ONE AND A HALF LAPS IN*
Okay time to do this! I head out onto the track with everything I need- jersey and spikes. That's it. The race goes by in a flash, and shortly afterwards I find myself on my elbows and knees trying to breathe, because I really can't. Eventually all the other runners have cleared the area and it's just me. The athletic trainers come over to me and ask if I'm okay. I told them about my breathing problem, and we eventually ended up having a pleasant conversation about why I was having breathing problems. A man carrying a backboard started walking in my direction and I nervously asked them, "That's not for me is it? I'm honestly fine." They looked at each other and laughed. "No, he's just putting it away" they say. I laughed too and finished up by letting them know how much I appreciate all they do for track and that they should hear that more often. I turned around and smiled as I walked away. I'm reminded of the nice conversation with the TSA agent a few days ago in Devils Lake, even with how far away that was- here in LA I can have the same experience. I pick up a crumpled water cup up off the ground. My, what a mess after a long day of track. My, what a mess I am right now. My, what a mess all of us are. But you know what? I have a feeling it's going to be ok. At least for now, I smile. We're all ok.
