CrossFit Athletic Group

I hate track. I hate track people. I hate talking about track (especially with track people). I hated coaching track. And now that I think about it, I hated running track. For once in my life, I actually agree with both Emma and Murley.

Track is track. It’s not baseball. It’s not basketball. It’s not football. It’s just plain track; a gay little stick and a fat goalie away from being lacrosse. Track is individual. There is no coaching. There is no teamwork. There are no plays. And yet, track is the most over-coached sport there is.

Track is simple. No push-off. No bounding. And no “dig dig dig.” No, track is just three things: Pose, Fall, Pull. That’s it. Then repeat at nausea. And sometimes pass a baton (gay little stick).

Track is confusing because track does not believe in common sense. Track believes in dual meets. Track believes in singlets. Track believes in 72 and sunny the day before a meet. Then, track believes in 27 and sleeting the day of. The starters believe in track because they get paid to shoot a gun in the air and yell in a megaphone – something Seth Richard probably does in his back yard for fun. Track believes in the city of Williamston. Track believes in carpools at the ass crack of dawn. Track believes in Rudy the bus driver. Track believes in the 300 meter hurdles. Track believes in two hour waits to run for 20 seconds. Track is like the Top Thrill Dragster without the top thrill.

In track, there is little skill and even littler athleticism. There is fast, or not fast. In track, Sonic the Hedgehog can be the best because he can do Sonic the Hedgehog things. That is why there is no coaching in track. But in track, track coaches somehow become legends for “coaching.” In track, coaching means bribing the fast kids in the school. Bribing, in a track sense, means you don’t have to go to practice. It works because in track, you can still be great at track without practicing track. That is why track is track, and not baseball, basketball, or football.

But on the other hand, track is track. Track is outdoors. Track is spring time. Track has the high jump mat. Track has field events. And even though field events breed inbred she-man throwers, field events also breed Darya Klishina. But back to track. Track is laid back. Then suddenly, track is race butterflies. Track is competition. Track is the 4x4 relay to send the team to States. States, by the way, is an undeserved and underappreciated stay in the Amway Grand Hotel. Amway Grand Hotel has a basketball court (not a track) on the 10^th floor. But States is the next day – first Saturday in June. And States is awesome!

Then there’s our track. Our track was cement. Our track was a field. Our track was a joke. Then our track got Chris and Brian. Then, track became fun. In our track, we taught the skill of running. In our track, there was Pose, Fall, and Pull. Our track made sense because it was simple. Low volume. High intensity. And the hill. Yes, that hill. But still, there was coaching. Good coaching. Good enough to know it’s not about the coaching. It’s about the individuals. Good individuals = good team. And our team sent nine individuals to States. It was awesome! It was also a school record. But more awesome was Officer Rawse. One year, one state championship. That was our track.

Then came the Champion’s Club (apostrophe included at the time). The Champion’s Club was the new breed. The new breed played actual sports. They played basketball and baseball (well, the girl version of it). But because they were athletes, they could run track – because track is simple. The new breed liked hard work. And the new breed was ready. But then, the track people remembered that track doesn’t like common sense and they became confused. See, track people are stuck in their ways. And I hate track people. So to combat the nature of the track people, we resorted to bribing the fast kids in the school. But we kinda needed them at practice because we taught skill. So we bribed them with Nike Track Bags. Then we soon realized that made no sense. But through it all, we still had the new breed. And the new breed proved to hold up with their reputation to uphold.

When the track people were shown the door, Chris and Brian ran the show. But we soon figured out that track was still track, even without the track people. Because there’s always more track people. These track people had a new name for the new breed. They called them the Chosen Ones. And for once, the track people were right. The Chosen Ones were chosen. That’s because they liked hard work. They played actual sports at the same time they ran track. But they still ran track better than the track people because they were athletes.

The Chosen Ones continued to work hard, but they were outnumbered because there’s always more  track people. The track people made it difficult for Chris and Brian to coach because they did track people things. Like Drama Club. Even though the writing was on the wall, the Chosen Ones kept Chris and Brian in it because they were Champions. But eventually, Chris and Brian were shown the door in a way only track people would do it.

I think I will always hate track people. Track people don’t get track. Since track is simple, and track people get confused easily, you would think the two would get along. But no. Track people can’t follow common sense (which is why they pass out “team rules” at the start of the season). Track people actually think meet points matter. Track people put the slowest kids in the 2 mile. Track people forget to enter the time for Officer Rawse. Track people think they are sprinters – even though they are fat goalies. Track people confuse being out-of-shape with having shin splints. Track people get wheelchair’d into the emergency room to get treated for blisters. Track people program ten 400 meter sprints on the first day of practice (and claim they did twice that “back in their day”). Track people believe that the key to running is pain tolerance. Track people love teaching stress fractures to their best runners. Track people teach slamming your feet into the ground. Track people take the teaching out of track. Instead, track people yell “ALL THE WAY THROUGH” and call it coaching. Who actually needs to be reminded to finish the race all the way through? Besides track people, of course.

Track people made me hate track. But somehow, I still miss track. I miss coaching with Brian because Brian is not a track people. Don’t get me wrong, it was still track (and not baseball, basketball, or football). But we made it fun because we are athletes. We made sense out of it. And most of all, it was about the individuals – like Emma and Murley. I miss the Chosen Ones. They were fun to coach because they gave us a relief from the track people. Bottom line, no Chosen Ones: no track. (But no track also would’ve meant no track people…which would’ve been good. Or bad, depending on how you look at it.) But now, I mostly hate talking about track. Not so much with track people, but with the Chosen Ones. I hate it because I feel bad that they have to deal with the track people. If I had done a better job, maybe they wouldn’t have to. The key is pain tolerance. But I know the Chosen Ones are going to do well regardless of who coaches them, because track is not about the coaching. But track people don’t get track. And never will. So fuck them and just be an athlete.