Note from the editor (a.k.a. the dude that’s pushing the post live):
BG and I just got back from the North Face Endurance Challenge in Utah where we watched Hannah Lippe from NP_DEN crush the competition in the women’s 50k race. We also saw Thunder Dan Berteletti finish third in the men’s 50k behind the dudes that make living from running trails. And then, we got humbled by altitude and elevation while the Boston-based duo of Tony and Chris was winning the marathon relay, rocking #GrassrootsGear across their chest. This weekend was amazing! We even have some photos to prove it. But enough about us. Here is Dan Clayton from NP_SFO reminding us that training is fun, but racing… that’s a whole new animal.
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About a month ago the #NPNATION formed a massive crowd around Brogan and Bojan near the starting line of the North Face Endurance Challenge in Madison, WI. Over 100 teams from around the country bounced together with fire in their eyes and November Project on their chests. If you’ve been in a November Project bounce before, you may have noticed that something felt a little different. There was a slightly different energy in that huddle. If you’re still confused about what that was, I’ll tell you…
It was fucking race day.
When we were huddled there together, shoulder to shoulder, tribe to tribe, relay team to relay team, Brogan mentioned something that stuck with me; a lot of our workouts are fun, goofy, friendly, silly, ridiculous… You’re there together with friends, encouraging the person next to you, and they’re encouraging you. There is camaraderie, teamwork, smiles and hugs. It’s amazing. “Today is not that day,” he said. “Today is fucking race day.” And race day is fucking addicting.
***
Let’s back up for a minute.
My running journey started at the age of seven, where for one reason or another, the idea that I was a distance runner stuck in my head. I stood at the 20-mile mark of the Boston Marathon watching the runners fly by and holding a Dixie cup of water as far out over the ropes as I could stretch. My father would quickly emerge from the sea of runners, grab the water from my hand and continue barreling down Commonwealth Avenue.
That summer I would run what would be the first of many Tuesday night 5k’s in my hometown of Northampton, Mass. I was so filled with nerves, and excitement, and energy, and un-medicated ADD that my dad made me run a mile warm up. I sprinted the first hundred yards of it and walk-jogged the rest. It took me so long to get around the warm-up loop that we missed the start of the race, but we trudged forwards anyways. Soon enough, I had finished my first 5k. (A quick note to all runner-dads out there, a 7 year-old does not need to do a warm-up lap). I returned home from that race beaming in victory with a jug of apple cider awarded to the first (albeit the only) finisher under the age of 10. Just like that, I was hooked.
The rest, I suppose, from the laps I ran at recess in third grade training for nothing in particular, to the spikes I laced up for the gym class mile, is history.
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Flash forward nearly two decades and I’m bouncing in a group of friends in Wisconsin. Suddenly, I’m getting the same feeling I’ve been addicted to since that first 5k. Anticipation, nerves, focus. I take a couple long, slow breaths to remind myself that my lungs work — a couple short, fast, strides to be sure that there was still power in my legs. And then there’s the waiting game. Check the watch. Sip of water. Shake out the legs. Shake out the arms. Stretch my neck. Bounce. Deep breaths. Pause… and repeat. I check the watch again. 20 minutes, and really, none of this fidgeting is going to do me any good when the gun goes off.
There’s nothing quite like that moment, when all the preparation you’ve been putting in over the last several weeks, and months, is all about to be put to the test. All those steps in Alta Plaza park, all those laps around Fort Mason, all those giant fucking hills in San Francisco, and trips over the Golden Gate Bridge. This is what those are for, and it’s enough anticipation to make you nauseous. I should know; I throw up before a lot of races.
***
When you’re on a team, or in a club, or a part of a tribe, there comes an additional pressure. It’s two-fold, and confusing, and comforting, and terrifying at the same time. You have the support of your teammates and friends. They’re counting on you and you’re counting on them. But when you’re all on the line, you kind of want to leave them in your dust, and they kind of want to do the same to you.
I was lucky enough to run Division One Cross-Country and track at Northeastern University, and experience what it was like to be on a team at a somewhat high level. When you’re there on the starting line, there’s this conflicting feeling inside you. These are the same dudes you ran 100 miles with last week. That’s approximately 12 hours of literal running with the same people, week after week. That doesn’t including stretching, or warming up, or strength training, or getting dressed, or going to the cafeteria, or having a pasta party the night before the race. That’s 12 hours out in the Boston cold, on the Cambridge pavement, and on the Charles River trails, together. You get to know people pretty well after a couple seasons of that. They become your brothers, but there’s also a pecking order. There are only 7 spots on the bus to regionals. Only the top 5 score. You know everything about how these dudes run, and how these dudes race. You know what they’re capable of, and you know where you stand amongst the ranks. When you toe the line, this funny thing happens. Even though these people are your teammates, they somehow also become your enemies. The starting line can be the loneliest place in the universe.
You can disagree, sure. You can tell me it’s all for the team, but I will call you a liar. Tell me it doesn’t hurt extra hard when it’s your teammate’s dust you’re eating, and you thought you were faster than them. This isn’t soccer, or basketball, or hockey, or football, or any of your classic team sports. There are no assists in distance running. It’s complicated, and there’s nothing else like it.
***
When I bounced with you all, and toed the line in Madison, I had the same feeling. These people are my closest friends, my family, my brothers, my sisters, my fellow tribe-members. I love them all, but I’m going to be completely honest with you; I also wanted to beat them. Orrin and Angelo, leaders of November Project LA, let’s get this out in the open — In that moment, on that starting line, I wanted to beat you. Padula and Ashleigh, leaders of November Project San Diego, I wanted to crush you. Bojan and Honerkamp, leaders of Boston and New York, I wanted to destroy you. Turbo Dan and Molly, Leaders of November Project Denver, I wanted to demolish you. I wanted that title. I wanted to be the fastest tribe. I wanted to bring a trophy back to San Francisco. I wanted my jug of apple cider! So I left it all out on the trail. I put my head down and went. I clenched my teeth and drove my knees. I told the voice in my head to shut up and get with the program. I was racing again, and it felt fucking fantastic.
Some of you might call this overly competitive, some of you might say that it’s too much. I call it respect. I respect you enough to show you my best. I respect you, so I have to crush you. It’s that simple. It’s that complex. It’s that fight that makes the team better. It’s that drive that makes the tribe stronger.
When it was over, and we were all dripping with sweat, a familiar grin began to spread across my face. It’s the feeling when the pressure is released, when endorphins meet lactic acid, when your enemies become your friends again, and when you know you’ve done your best. I smiled and hugged each of you. Until we race again, I thought. Until next time!
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That next time is coming up. It’s on my calendar, and it should be on yours. The North Face Endurance Challenge San Francisco: December 6th, 2014. This is our backyard. Paddy and I are going to hit those hills every weekend, and we’re going to hit them hard. Our tribe is going to push us, and we’re going to push our tribe. We were one wrong turn away from a potential podium finish, and we’re hungry for more. So… THIS IS A CHALLENGE! Bring your fastest leaders, bring your fastest members, bring your fastest friends, and #JUSTSHOWUP in San Francisco, December 6th. We’ll be waiting for you.
-Clayton
Co-Leader of November Project San Francisco
