Word Up

-Edit- So... there's some funky ads at the top of my blog. That's sorta hilarious. Yay for adwords. Sorta off the wall though.... So... let's see if we can rock the vote eh? DDR. Dance Dance Revolution. I'm looking for cheap Dance Dance revolution pads. Maybe for the PS2, or for the Xbox? I want a sturdy pad that will hold up. How about one for cheap? Free shipping? Score! -End edit-

No excuses. No time for them. No drawn out introductions. It's 11:05, and I've got to write something, mostly because I want to. So, here they are, the top two stories from Christopher Thatcher's week.

You know what? No. I just wrote a bunch of hud. It's not even good. It's a long drawn out story that doesn't need to be long, or drawn out. In fact, it can be pretty short. Here's the condensed version, take it or leave it. The big version is underneath it, but you can really ignore it. I left it unfinished. Here's the real version:

Yesterday was a tri-meet, and I was prepared to dominate. I really wanted to run super fast, and beat my old record. My old record was 5.22, and I set that in 9th grade. It's embarassing that I hadn't beat it yet, but hey, whatever.

Yesterday was the perfect day for a meet. School went well, and the weather was beautiful. Nothing stood in my way. I was going to break that record with a fierce fury.

The race started, and I went out strong. Everything felt great, systems were go. The race went just normal until the last lap. Coming in to the last lap, I was in 4th place. There was a guy ahead of me, but I knew that If I tried really really hard, I could catch him. He was definitely within reach, but it wouldn't be easy. It's hard to judge sometimes what we are capable of. Sometimes we never know what we truly are able to do until we go as far as we can go, and then we fail. Often, we never really do make that breaking point.

Well, philosophical questions aside, I knew that I could catch this guy. He had a decent lead on me, but I'm tenacious. I picked it up for that last lap, and so did he. It was a footrace, and I was gaining on him little by little. He was ahead of me all the way down to the last 200 meters. Entering the curve by the flagpoles, I picked up into my end race pseudo-sprint. It wasn't quite my end race sprint, but it was close, a little warning for him.

He still had me by a couple feet coming into the last 100 meters. I knew now that he knew how desperate the situation was. It's hard to sneak up on somebody in a mile race. If they know that you're coming for them, they're going to do everything that they can to avoid the humiliation of getting passed in the last 100 meters. You've just run 1500 meters, and you do not want to lose all that hard work to some pansy boy that's been behind you the whole time and is about to sprint in to beat you. It's just not something that people want to do. Now, if you can sneak up and pass them without them realizing what you're doing until it's too late, it's great. Nobody randomly speeds up to make sure the imaginary man doesn't pass them. But when they know, they're going to fight you all the way to prevent it.

Now, some ninja runners can sneak up and pass people pretty well. I am not one of those. Imagine a winded rhinocerous trying to sneak into the whitehouse. I'm over here snorting, and breathing like a madman. You could hear my nose whistle all the way in the top row of the bleachers. This guy knew I was right on top of him, and he wasn't going to let me have it.

My pseudo-sprint proved insufficient. He held the lead as we rounded the curve for the last 100 meters. I really considered taking a proud 4th place for a minute. It would be the best place I've ever taken in a meet. There's no shame in 4th.

There's no shame, unless it's go time.

...It was go time.

So I poured it on. I left it all on the track. He was there, and I was there, and I took him. I don't know this guy's name, I don't remember what school he's from, and I've got no idea if his neckbeard was cooler than mine or not. The mystery man was sprinting it in, leaving it on the track, and I was too. I passed him with 60 meters left in the race. I was up on my toes, arms pumping, knees high, everything burning. As I passed, I knew it wasn't over. He would fight me all the way to the end, and fight he did.

It all happened in the span of 20 seconds. In those 20 seconds, I had to figure out if it really was possible. I had to figure out if I was willing to attempt the insane, and push my body that much harder. It was go time, and I went.

I crossed the line, knowing full well that I had just taken 3rd place. I give my sticker to Ms. Ward, and then find out my time. 5:03.

A new personal best.

That's right, I smashed my old record by 19 seconds, and got 3rd place. I really shouldn't have gotten third... Clements wasn't running, neither was whiting. Both of whom would have smashed me. But ya know what? I don't care. I'm crazy happy to limp off the track with a 3rd place and a new record.

Region is coming up this wednesday, and I'm gonna break 5 minutes. No battle.

So, I got 3rd in the 3200 too. That was a good race. But what can you say about 8 laps? You run it, and you try to pass people. You try to run faster than they do, so you can get to the finish line before they do. It's a nice race ,I finally enjoy it. I pushed it, and I got 3rd. I am very happy about my performance.

So, that's my track story. 5:03. I love track.

The following is very long, pointless, and quite boring. I encourage you to read it only if you are ready to hear something very redundant, overly dramatic, and quite fruity. It's all yours if you want. if you don't, well. Go find out who is Brandon Hu. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, read the post underneath this)

Jason Liu has already found out who Brandon Hu is. I will release the first hint today.

Brandon Hu is a very important person. What was his impact on the history of the world?


Begin Drivel~
Yesterday was a tri-meet. Like I've said before, tri-meets are alot of fun. Very few schools there, it's small, it's fast, and it's fun. The weather was absolutely beautiful. The sun was up, there wasn't too much wind, the temperature was beautiful, and there wasn't any precipitation anywhere except my armpits. In short, it was the perfect meet.

All day I had been excited for it. I woke up, and thought to myself, "You are going to dominate today." All day I was waiting for my chance to go out there, and really see what I am now.

See, the sad truth is, I ran a 5.22.25 mile in 9th grade at the district meet. That was a killer time for me, way faster than I had ever run before. I was super excited about it. Well, I hadn't ever been able to beat that time. All through cross country I never timed a mile. All during indoor track I was a slacker and didn't try my hardest. At the Jordan meet, it was super super cold and wet, so I know I didn't run my best. I haven't been able to run too many miles this year that were timed. I was still a sophomore that wasn't as fast as his freshman forebearer.

So, that's been embarassing the whole year, but I was ready to change things. There was nothing standing in my way. I was going to go out there, and run my best race. I was going to put it all on the line, and then come back and see what magical numbers my efforts produced. It was all about ME. I wasn't running for the team, I was running to find out what I really am capable of. To find out if I really was a pansy boy who couldn't match last year, or to find out if this whole track bit really was worth anything. I just had to know, otherwise I was wasting my time.

It's go time. The girls are running their mile, and I'm getting suited up. My mom had bought me new socks the day previous. They were way thick, but super comfy. I like them alot. They're really tight, so I can have my fruitsnacks in there, and they won't slide down on me and cut me. So, I've got my sweet shorts on, and I'm trying to squeeze my foot into Trevor's spikes. See, Whiting is a stud. He's got two pair of spikes, one pair for distance, and one for sprints. He wasn't using his distance spikes, so he let me borrow them again. So, I squeeze my feet in there, and I'm feeling pretty good about things. I down some fruitsnacks just for good measure, and get ready to face my destiny.

Girls finish, nothing spectacular to report about that because no T-ville girls run the mile. What's with that? I have no idea, but whatever.

We line up, and things are looking pretty good for me still. No sudden change of weather. No javelin related accidents, just a clean track, a clear sky, and some really, really short shorts.

So, the gun goes off, but I'm sitting here in lane 2 or 3. The way the mile race works is a little different from most races. All the short distance races are staggered. So, the guy running in lane 8 starts way ahead of the guy running in lane one. That's because he's going to run alot longer in lane 8. So, the distances are really all the same, they just look like they're not.

With the mile, you all start on one line, but it's a curvy line. It starts out with the straight finish line for lane one, but the curves out in a gentle arc. So, the guy in lane 8 is standing pretty far ahead of the guy in lane 1. The idea is, the guys in the outside lane have an opportunity to cut in instead of getting owned.

Unforunately, it's sort of a broken system. It gives a huge advantage to the guys way on the outside. No matter what, somebody is going to cut in too soon, making all the inner lane guys slow down to prevent death. So, I was thinking that I'd be safe in lane 3.

And, true enough, I didn't die. But I sure did get cut off and then boxed in.

When you get boxed in in a race, you have a two options. One option is to try and find a way out, and then bust out to the outside lanes, pass the box, then re enter the good lanes. The other, more favored option, is to sit there and slow down and be a pansy boy.

Nobody likes being a pansy boy. I hopped out a few lanes, and proceeded to dominated. I was going sorta fast all the way up until I found myself in 4th or 5th place. I decided that was as good a place as ever to hop back into the real world.

And so there I was, just running. I felt pretty good, my legs were solid underneath me, my breathing was coming pretty easy, and the spikes just made me feel cool, lets face it.

Coming in to the 2nd lap, things were pretty stable. There was one guy that had a pretty good lead, a guy in 2nd that was moderately behind him, and a guy in 3rd moderately behind him too. I was sitting in 5th.

Long story short, I crept up on number 4, and then passed him. Coming into the 4th lap, the 3rd guy was pretty ahead of me, but I knew that I could get him. I knew that if I tried really really hard, he was within reach. I picked it up for the 4th lap, using strength I really don't usually use. He was ahead of me all the way to the very last 100 meters.

~end drivel.

Well, G'night all. I'll write something good soon, I promise. Until then, keep watching the skis.