Everyone has a story

After getting in a strong workout, consisting of 24 times 65 seconds up-tempo/fast, 55 seconds jog (with warmup and cooldown-11 miles), I decide to join a fellow teammate of mine on a progression run the following day.



After I got off an 8 hour shift at work (12 for him), we planned on doing a 3 mile warmup, 4 mile progression run being cut down each mile at a comfortable and steady pace. It's early in the season, so it was just something to get the heartrate up. Following that, would be a 3 mile cooldown and a lot of plyometric drills, etc.



Momentarily in a new city, and a new elevation of 'only' 5500 feet... We set out to "do work". As we trotted along, shaking out the kinks from work, and chatting away:



Me: "Yes, I really do believe squirrels are the most fierce (and greatest) animals in the animal kindom"--"Did you know there is now a squirrel that can ski... they can do ANYTHING!



teammate: "Sounds far fetched".



Me: WHAT YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME?!... I WILL SHOW YOU THE YOUTUBE CLIP WHEN WE GET BACK!



teammate: "Why are you yellling?"



Me: "I AM NOT YELLLING! *momentarily pause* YOUR MOM IS A CHEAP WHORE!!!" (...I was yelling)



teammate: *long death stare*....



Me: "I was just kidding.....*long pause*.... she's relatively pricey!"



3 mile warm-up over and done with, it's now time to line up and roll out this 4 mile progession run. A "comfortable hard" run.



And the tempo-like run begins! Wind howling from our left side, a.k.a. where the moutains lay in this busy body city. These mountains had such a shear magnitude, that if you didn't know any better, you would think they were storm clouds at night. As we ran parallel to them, we were just a hop, skip, and a jump away from them.

As we were comfortably rolling along, you can't help but think what draws people together, as friends, co-workers, or in this case, teammates. My teammate being called, "Monte". As he comfortably stided along, a demanding and agressive form, yet with a sense of fluency that can only be accomplished with thousands of miles "in the bank".

In today's world and time, so many people have a sense of "genericnesscy" ("Yes", I just made that word up), people have a stereotypically boring/conforming background in their life, "their story", as you will. It's pretty easy to tell if someone's 'story' catches my eye, because I'll either frankly tell them, or it's just easy to tell. Obviously, only a few people have a great enough life story to catch my interests. Regardless, "Monte's story" starts in a farm in South Dakota, to which, "Yes", everyone in South Dakota owns a farm, it's one of the few stereotypes that holds a lot of truth.

As we came through the first mile in a comfortable 5.30, neither of us laboring by any means, we continued to strive forward. Coming upon a rather large wooden bridge, hearing a loud clanking sound as each foot strike hit the boards, we were unphased and continued to maintain pace as we headed into the second mile.

When Monte was a young sophomore, just coming off a big underdog victory at his state xc meet, he did what he did every other morning that winter at home, "Chores". Now, doing chores on a farm is not the usual chores 'most' people do that don't live on a farm.... it's tough, and hard work, "Man's work". As Monte was doing routine chores, he lost his footing and as he went down, got his foot stuck in farming equipment. This equipment being used to 'grind' up and churn the soil. If you're starting to get where I'm going with this, "Yes", this would not be a 'pleasant' experience.

As the GPS watch starts beeping at two miles into a 4 mile progression run, I take a casual glance at the watch, "5.27 for that last mile". Taking a sharp right turn, continuing onward on an asphalt trail, no one out on the trail to speak of, crossing several intersections, pace quickening, a playground to the left, a canal to the right, we continued to move forward. The pace started to demand more and more energy being put forth as we covered more distance.

As Monte was laying on and facing the ground, his foot and thousands of miles of work was being lost in the matter of seconds. Monte began yelling for help at the top of his lungs. His shoe being ripped apart as if it was paper just being put through a shredder, Monte continued to yell. His family on the other side of his several square mile size farm, his shouts for help would not be heard, except by some nearby cattle. With this shouting, the cattle proceeded to just cause chaos and run off in various directions.

Coming through 3 miles and slightly surprised by the quickening of the pace, "Hey 5.06 on that last mile, Monte". We continued to keep it as a controlled tempo run and make sure to maintain pace. Darting over a road, as the path was connected on the other side, a car coming from the right... "Ya, we're good." As to say, we can run out across the road (without stopping) and they won't hit us. Free and clear as we easily beat the car, we rolled onto the fouth mile.

As Monte continued to yell for help, he did happen to notice a shovel that was within grasp. As he was able to stretch out and latch onto it, desperately trying to hit the lever from behind and turn off the machinery. Without any sight of the lever (talk about being clutch on trying to hit it) as he lay face down on the ground, he would not have many opportunities to try and hit the lever in hopes of stopping the device that was currently grinding his foot into a pulp. As he was going into shock, breathening quickening, heart pounding, blood pumping to the tips of his fingers, and yet, a sense of composure, in effort, to save his foot... leg for that matter and perhaps his own life, he swung back the shovel, again and again, and started getting closer to his desired means....

Just a short straight-away from being done with the progession run, we stayed true to pace and came through the last mile in 5.05. Lightly slowing down to a stop, a short, yet, instinctive handshake following quickly... "Good run"... "Ya, it was... felt really comfortable"... We proceeded to start our 3 mile cooldown run promptly to continue our warmup talk that we were previously having not much more than 20 minutes ago.

Monte continued to swing back, and just as his career in sports was about to be lost forever... and as fate would have it, he connects straight on with the lever and stops the machine from causing any continuing damage to his foot. As Monte lay there, realizing this was not the end of it, his foot would be intertwined into this equipment and there was nowhere that he could go as he lay there losing vital blood.

Monte's yelling was not in total vain. Even though it was only heard by his cattle, it was the cattle that perhaps saved his life. As the cattle made their way to the other side of the farm, it was their comotion that caught the attention of Monte's brothers, so much so, that they quickly made their way over to where Monte was stationed. Monte laying there, half conscious, they proceeded to dig his foot out of the equipment with... "shovels".

The end results being the loss of his big toe, and in the process, having to remend his skin and months and months of physical therapy. It would take over a solid year of strenuous work to get back into solid running form, as well as, specially made orthotics.

A mile or so into the warmup, wind continuing to howl as it hit us staright in the face at this time:

"Dude, I'm telling you, it's my life long goal to become a world champion dog sledder."

Monte: "You do realize they hold that race up in Alaska."

Me: "Alaska... smaska.

pause

"Anything's possible if you want it bad enough, anything."

Monte went on to run 1.51 in the 800m as a senior in high school and currently will be entering his sophomore year in college..

AND "No", I did not forget:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=37fDXX9stJY&feature=related

-clay j. mayes the 3rd