The 27's Track Practice Experience:

Last week, one of the main partners in my law firm, Wallace Wilson, of Wilson & Maynard, came in my office and told me to bring my running shoes on the 31st because he was going to take me running...mind you, he wasn't asking, he was telling...here is the account.

1) Got to the track, and changed clothes in the mens room with Wilson. 

2) We come outside and meet some of his buddies.  As this is track practice, they are all wearing track atire - Nike Dri-Fit shirts, those short shorts with spandex, light Asics of Nike Waffles.  Of course, I am wearing long basketball shorts and black Nikes. 

Soon, after the 5th 400m race, I will be down to my wife-beater.  A wife-beater is not normal track atire.

3) We start out with a "light" one-mile "warm-up" jog.  Everyone else is talking about the next 15k they will be running and their anitcipated splits.  I add nothing to the conversation.

4) After the "warm-up" we stretch.  Then, the Israeli Olympian, named Hod, walks on the track and quickly begins bragging about how he took in a quick 12.5 yesterday and biked a nice 40 this morning.  Wilson then hands him $30.  So do about 50 other people.  Wilson tells me its $30 a month, but the first month is free, so guys like me can decide whether we like it.

5) Hod begins to earn his $ 1500.  He pulls out this slick board and writes out the workout: for marathoners (I slink to the back of the crowd) its something like 5400 laps.  For the 5k and 15k runners (apparently, Hod has assigned me to this group) its 8, 400m laps, at 10 seconds off your "racing" pace, with a minute and a half in between.  Hod's work for the evening is done.   

6) I do not have a racing pace, so I borrow Wilson's.  Since he averages a 6:50 mile over 9 miles, his split is something like 1:30 per lap.  As 30 of us line up at the starting line, I am taken back to a time when I was actually fast and decently athletic and when I raced people because it was fun, and not because my boss made me.  However, the 14 year old next to me quickly brings me back to reality as he taps me on the shoulder and asks me what pace I am running at and whether he can run with me.  Sweet.  We haven'' even started yet and I have already been pegged as the slow guy the little kids can run with.

7) First lap, no problem.  Second lap, no problem.  I'm keeping pace with Wilson, not gasping for air afterwards and acting like I've been there before.  I ask Wilson what the last split was, he tells me, and we line up to run again.  Same thing through lap 5. 

8) Then my ACL starts burning and my legs feel like they weigh 75 lbs.  The shirt comes off, revealing sweaty wife-beater.  At lap six, not only has the 14 year old gone ahead of me, but also his lanky friend with zits and glasses - the kid in highschool who I would have sat down with after practice and told to stop crying and that I was proud of him for working so hard.

9) Lap 7, and I am now half-nude.  The film of fat on my body over the same area where Wilson has 10 abs, is glistening with sweat.  In my head, I repeat over and over and over again: "Two more laps, two more laps, two more laps..."  This is first lap where Wilson pulls ahead.  He is 54, I am 26, and the dude just puts on the afterburners the last 100. 

I am not ashamed because several women and children are already at the finish line, stretching for the last lap. 

10) Lap 8 comes, and I can't even remember it.  Afterwards, Wilson says its good to do a 2 lap "warmdown."  I say, "have fun with that."

11) In the car on the way home, Wilson tells me I was "kicking ass" and that he can tell I have "good speed" but that it will take a few weeks for the heart and lungs to kick in. 

I repeat that I have had two major reconstructive surgeries in the past 5 years. 

I don't think he cares.

He drops me off at my apartment, and I feel very much like I did sophmore year in highschool, when my friend's dad would drop me off after practice.  I say "thank you for inviting me" and "that was fun."

"Same time next week?"