on a log for lunch. You know how it is with him.”
“Whatever. I’m jealous. He’s totally got a soft spot for you and everyone knows it.” Zoe is so dramatic.
I ignore her. We reconvene by the baseball field after the warm-up. It’s hot out, and the boys have taken off their shirts. I can’t help but check out Ryan, whose sandy brown hair ruffles in the breeze. He’s lean and muscular, and far from scrawny like some of the cross guys are. Zoe and Claire strip off their tee shirts, and I follow suit. Jenny watches us.
“Hmmm. . . I’ll have to remember not to wear a white sports bra next time it’s a hot day out,” she observes. Yes. Hot days and the shirts go flying --along with the teenage hormones.
Coach Tom is wearing his favorite Rockies baseball hat as he gives the same welcoming speech I’ve heard for the past two years. “All right, guys!” he calls to get our attention. “Yesterday was the social welcoming, and today is the training welcome. Some of you are brand new to cross country. Here’s what you need to know. We don’t cut anyone. If you make it to the practices you can race in the meets. However, only seven girls and seven boys are on varsity.” He holds up seven fingers to emphasize the point. “Varsity-only races are marked with a star on the team calendar. Only varsity goes to Districts and State, and that’s if they qualify. Looks like we have about thirty girls here today, and forty boys. Everyone who was on varsity last year, or who wants to try for it this year, will come with me. Everyone else will go with our assistant coach, Janet. We’ll start dividing you up into groups based on your pace, but for today you’ll have to make your own decision about where you think you’ll fit in.”
When I look around, I see a lot of panicked expressions. It’s like this every year, too. I’d shown up to my first practice freshman year wearing high top Converse sneakers and jean shorts, and got more than a few funny looks. It didn’t seem like a hard decision which group to run with the first day -- I’d either keep up or I wouldn’t. It’s not like anyone would be tackling me. There was no doubt in my mind that first day that I belonged in Janet’s group, but after rocking the hill sprints in my high tops, I’d been moved to Coach Tom’s group. I’ve been working out with him ever since.
Coach explains that our group is doing mile repeats, which he has measured off with orange cones around the baseball field and up a hill towards the parking lot. “It’s a hilly mile loop. Zoe and Claire will lead the girls’ group. Three by one mile repeats with three minutes rest in between each mile. Try for about a 6:15 pace. I don’t expect everyone to keep up. Just do your best. Charlie and Pepper, I’d like you to lead the guys out at 5:45 pace. You’ll be doing four miles total. Ryan, you’re starting thirty seconds behind the guys’ group, and you’ll try to catch them by the end of the mile, so about a 5:15 pace.”
I tighten my ponytail and head over to the first cone with Charlie. “Ready, guys?” he calls to the fifteen guys behind us. We start our watches and set off.
The rest of the guys settle in behind us. They know not to question our pace. The last interval will be fair game, but Coach instructed me and Charlie to set the pace, and that means everyone has to stay behind us for the first three miles. I’m usually in the lead at races, so Coach knows it’s important for me to get familiar with pacing, even if it does piss off some of the guys who don’t like following a girl.
Ryan runs past us at the end of each mile, before we take the three-minute break between each one. He looks so strong and relaxed running a five-minute pace, it’s hard not to
“Whatever. I’m jealous. He’s totally got a soft spot for you and everyone knows it.” Zoe is so dramatic.
I ignore her. We reconvene by the baseball field after the warm-up. It’s hot out, and the boys have taken off their shirts. I can’t help but check out Ryan, whose sandy brown hair ruffles in the breeze. He’s lean and muscular, and far from scrawny like some of the cross guys are. Zoe and Claire strip off their tee shirts, and I follow suit. Jenny watches us.
“Hmmm. . . I’ll have to remember not to wear a white sports bra next time it’s a hot day out,” she observes. Yes. Hot days and the shirts go flying --along with the teenage hormones.
Coach Tom is wearing his favorite Rockies baseball hat as he gives the same welcoming speech I’ve heard for the past two years. “All right, guys!” he calls to get our attention. “Yesterday was the social welcoming, and today is the training welcome. Some of you are brand new to cross country. Here’s what you need to know. We don’t cut anyone. If you make it to the practices you can race in the meets. However, only seven girls and seven boys are on varsity.” He holds up seven fingers to emphasize the point. “Varsity-only races are marked with a star on the team calendar. Only varsity goes to Districts and State, and that’s if they qualify. Looks like we have about thirty girls here today, and forty boys. Everyone who was on varsity last year, or who wants to try for it this year, will come with me. Everyone else will go with our assistant coach, Janet. We’ll start dividing you up into groups based on your pace, but for today you’ll have to make your own decision about where you think you’ll fit in.”
When I look around, I see a lot of panicked expressions. It’s like this every year, too. I’d shown up to my first practice freshman year wearing high top Converse sneakers and jean shorts, and got more than a few funny looks. It didn’t seem like a hard decision which group to run with the first day -- I’d either keep up or I wouldn’t. It’s not like anyone would be tackling me. There was no doubt in my mind that first day that I belonged in Janet’s group, but after rocking the hill sprints in my high tops, I’d been moved to Coach Tom’s group. I’ve been working out with him ever since.
Coach explains that our group is doing mile repeats, which he has measured off with orange cones around the baseball field and up a hill towards the parking lot. “It’s a hilly mile loop. Zoe and Claire will lead the girls’ group. Three by one mile repeats with three minutes rest in between each mile. Try for about a 6:15 pace. I don’t expect everyone to keep up. Just do your best. Charlie and Pepper, I’d like you to lead the guys out at 5:45 pace. You’ll be doing four miles total. Ryan, you’re starting thirty seconds behind the guys’ group, and you’ll try to catch them by the end of the mile, so about a 5:15 pace.”
I tighten my ponytail and head over to the first cone with Charlie. “Ready, guys?” he calls to the fifteen guys behind us. We start our watches and set off.
The rest of the guys settle in behind us. They know not to question our pace. The last interval will be fair game, but Coach instructed me and Charlie to set the pace, and that means everyone has to stay behind us for the first three miles. I’m usually in the lead at races, so Coach knows it’s important for me to get familiar with pacing, even if it does piss off some of the guys who don’t like following a girl.
Ryan runs past us at the end of each mile, before we take the three-minute break between each one. He looks so strong and relaxed running a five-minute pace, it’s hard not to
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