July 18, 2007

The last few months have been very busy for me. The last portion of May I moved from Chula Vista, California to Eugene Oregon. I drove my truck, loaded with my motorcycle and everything else I own, the entire distance—Interstate 5, arriving only two days before the "Road to Eugene" meeting (PAA, Professional Athletics Association). Consequently in part from the travel, I raced poorly in the 1500m, 3:45, finishing second to last; I was especially disappointed, as the PAA rewards victory and high placing with a generous purse, resulting in a loss for me of much needed revenue to my foes. The next two weeks I worked constantly to settle down in Eugene, initially in the garage of my buddy's house, John Figueiredo, sophomore at U of O and harrier for Lane Community College. Finally, I began to move slowly into the first floor of Mr. Figueiredo's house, which is now, what I am proud to say, my new home in Eugene--Track Town USA--only five blocks from Hayward field! All the while I continued to train under the guidance of my new coach, Dick Brown. The weekend after the PAA meeting, Coach Gagliano of the Oregon Track Club, hosted a dual, twilight and daytime meetings June 8 and 9, just after the Oregon State Championship: June 6-8, and the day before the prestigious Golden League meeting, The Prefontaine Classic, also at Hayward Field. For the twilight meeting I competed in the 800m and ran 1:49 flat, middle of the pack—pretty good! Encouraging! The next day I ran the 1500m against a solid field; I sat on the rabbit through 900m, before a line of nine guys passed me; however, I regrouped with 150m to go, had a decent kick, passing a large group of men, and again I finished in the middle of the pack at 3:43, okay, still encouraging! Mr. Jordan McNamara, also a freshman at lane community college along with John Figueiredo ran a brilliant last 300m, outkicking the field in the last 20m for a 3:40. Little did I know at the time, but McNamara would end up being my housemate for the summer. Two weeks later I was in Indianapolis for the USATF National Championships. In the trials, June 22, I had a break through race for the season in the 1500m: 3:39, I ran 39 seconds over the last 300m to take second to Allen Webb by 1/10 of a second. Yet, I wasn't able to capitalize on my trials breakthrough in the finals, lacking both the consistency and confidence to be a contender. So it wasn't surprising when two days later, June 24 I placed last or second to last in the finals, in another mediocre 3:45, or something like that; I don't keep too careful of records of my failures, lest I remember losing too vividly and it starts to become a patterned habit. It is no exaggeration to say that I returned home to Eugene, with a very heavy face and a heart full of shame. My suffering was worsened due to my awareness of how many people believe in me, knowing how many people feel that I should be the champion; but worst of all, knowing that I myself am a champion, and that I performed like a coward. So, it is with heavy spirits that I faced the next weeks of training. Although, I was planning on competing in Europe this summer, after my failed finals at Indy I realized that my capacity to get into the prestigious Golden League series would be severely limited, and furthermore that the "B" level meetings that I would be able to enter would surely be a losing enterprise, financially and morally. So, with my European opportunity jeopardized, and my dreams in Osaka for the World Championships shattered, I decided to stay in Eugene and grow some roots in the community. After all, much of my disappointment this season has been a direct result of scattered training sites, changes in coaching, and changes in training. So far the decision has proved productive and rewarding, as I discover my routine here in Eugene and build valuable relationships and support. As a sort of warm down racing series I have entered the local Eugene all-comers Track series, as an opportunity to release my pent up frustration, get some speed training, and try some new things. I have already competed in the last two all-comers meetings held at Eugene South every Thursday in July, and have one more Thursday to go, tomorrow, before I get to take my mandatory two weeks off from running break! Compliments to my new coach, Dick Brown. My first meeting, July 5th, I won the 400m in 51.7 and took second in the 800m to Mr. Mike McGraff (1:56 to McGraff's 1:54); McGraff ran really strong over the last lap, striking with 400m, and utterly destroying me over the last 200m. I have to admit that I was a bit surprised to see McGraff at all at an all-comers meeting. I feel that he sort of stole my glory, so, in light of this defeat, I trained really hard the next week with an eye for redemption. But, this time, to secure my chances for success I decided to enter as many events as possible. So, Thursday, July 12, I arrived at Eugene South at 5pm, a half an hour before starting time, determined to win. My first event was the long jump at 5:30pm. Not having long jumped since 7th grade, I was a bit out of practice. But as a 41ft high school triple jumper I was fairly confident in my ability, at least of what I perceived to be the "all-comers" ability. However, the competition was pretty stiff, and as I was the last to jump, I had both the advantage, but also anxiety of watching all my competitors jump before me. A 12-year old girl jumped 16ft first attempt, pretty good, and I started to get nervous; then a 20-year old man jumped almost 20ft, but he fouled. I jumped 16`1``, barely surpassing the 12-year old girl, but still 2-4 inches behind four other competitors in the 14-and-under division. The next round: I jumped 15`10``, the 12-year old girl jumped 16`10, `` and the 20-year old jumped 19ft, but fouled again. The last round the 12-year old girl fouled, otherwise jumping well over 17ft, and the 20-year old was busy doing the 110H hurdles, so I took the runway for the last time, thinking that if I could surpass the 12-year old's 16`10 and if the 20-year old fouled on his last attempt, I just might win the long jump. Carefully guessing my steps, I bounded for five steps before accelerating to my best speed yet, hitting the board perfectl. The result: line drive, PR, 17`1``. With no other competitors left aside from the 20-year old hurdler, second place was secure; so, I changed into my flats for the Jogger's Mile. As I toed the line for the Jogger’s Mile with another 30-plus joggers around the invisible waterfall start, a graduating senior from a Eugene HS introduced himself to me and said that he was a big fan of mine, etc. etc.. I asked him what he was trying to run in the Jogger’s Mile, and he said, "Oh, I just got off work, and I am a bit out of shape. I can't run the [scored] 1500m because I've got to leave early; but I think if my legs feel all-right maybe I can run 5:05, just for practice."
So, I am thinking, this kid is a wimp, sounds like a lot of excuses to suck, I am going to "JOG" his punk-ass into the ground.
I tell him, "good luck" and the gun goes off.
I lead the first lap at 70-second pace, when in the middle of the homestretch the high school kid surges to my shoulder in what I interpret as a direct challenge! I am thinking, this punk is going to pay for his audacity, and I pick up the pace to 65; he continues to challenge me, running wide on the turn and into the backstretch. Coming on two laps the crowd senses a bruiser and starts cheering like crazy. Running shoulder-to-shoulder at 800m, 2:14, it appeared to be quite the race; however, on the next backstretch, I put in a good surge and dropped the kid for good, coasting into a 4:31 mile, to his 5:05. So, I guess at the end of the day we both achieved our goals: he got his 5:05 and I "JOGGED his punk-ass into the ground," or at least so I thought. On my cool down I jogged past the long jump pit to find out that the 20-year-old had finally landed a legal jump, besting my 17`1`` with a 20-footer. Oh, well, so many things are out of one's control; I took my second place red ribbon and grinned (it now hangs in my room above my desk). However, there is not much time to catch one's breath at these all-comers meetings; I now toed the line in the 400m, just minutes after my Jogger's Mile "victory" (unfortunately the Jogger's Mile is un-scored and offers no prizes). Coming to my attention, using blocks in lane 4, I noticed a fit-looking fellow in a speed suit from Lincoln College, who I had beaten by 10 seconds the week before in the 800m, but his skill as a sprinter remained unknown. The only other guy that looked any good in the 400m was the Lincoln fellow's arrogant teammate. I say arrogant because he walked with that arrogant air of a prize-fighter, he addressed the starter like a subordinate and ordered his lackey to hold his blocks for him in a particular manner. But I had no idea how Lincoln fellow or his teammate would shape up in the heat of battle, and this not knowing made me a little nervous, especially when I watched the Lincoln fellow practice his block starts with impressive force; the Lincoln fellow's arrogant teammate on the other hand didn't practice any starts, he just sort of posed in front of his block, relishing his massive muscles. I still have not learned the skill of block starting. Undeterred, I strategically took lane 2 in an awkward standing start. With my inside lane vantage point I planned on keeping the competition in the outside lanes in my view as the race progressed so as to know exactly what place I held; thus, it was my hope to use the inside stagger as a momentum booster coming out of the last turn. Sure enough, after a slow start I pulled almost dead even with the Lincoln man at 200m, which from my position in lane 2, effectively means that I already had the lead. And just as planned, coming out of the last turn into the home stretch, I used my momentum to gain a yard lead. But somehow the Lincoln man found that extra gear, he kicked harder than I could and out leaned me for the 400m title, 50.89 to my 50.90. Ohhh, so close! I was especially disappointed, as I noticed Nicole Teter and Lauren Fleshman in the stands just before the start, and I ever so wanted to impress them with a victory. I remember even mentioning to Nicole that a 400m title was within my grasp. Oh, well, maybe, she noticed the virility of my effort despite the defeat. Unfortunately for my ego, anyways, any chance of maintaining a respectable reputation was dashed to pieces in the next event, the 100m dash. Believe me I knew that victory was just about impossible in this event, but some sort of inexplicable pride in the feeling that I must carry out the things that I set out to do brought me to the line. Still out of breath from the 400m just moments before, I took lane 1, the only remaining lane for my age group, "20-year-olds in their prime.” This time all my competitors wore speed suits as I took the line in my standing start, and waited for my competitors to hold their set block position. The result: it wasn't even close, in fact, my margin of defeat was far worse than expected; the leader gapped me by 10m in the first 20m and opened up another 5m before the tape, leaving me thoroughly embarrassed for last place in 13 seconds to his 11 seconds. Further exacerbating my situation, lactate acid completely flooded my head immediately after the race as I hobbled around the softball field to the restrooms to put my feet up under an awning in search of some much needed shade. I now had 15 minutes of rest before the 200m! Phew! I was planning on using every second of that recovery, when I turned my head, my back on the ground and legs up, and who did I see? Mr. McGraff, the victor from U of O in the 800m the week before! I tried to look powerful and confident from my position on the ground, but I couldn't help feeling really dizzy and nervous, like there was no way in hell that I could beat a fresh McGraff in the 800m. He asked me if I was running the 800m, and I managed to give a barely audible, "mmHmm" meaning "yes". I asked if he was running, knowing full well that he was; we exchanged "good luck" salutations and shook hands. Then I quickly made my way to the backstretch for the 200m. I knew that the 200m was a different animal from the 100m, more of a sister species to the 400m with its long turn and almost endurance like straight away; so, I thought I had a chance. The starter asked us how we wanted to divide into sections, and the Lincoln man's arrogant teammate suggested we be seeded by "entry time" instead of the usual age group and gender divisions; however, nobody had previously submitted any entry times, as the competition was after all only an all-comers meeting. Anyhow, the starter not being too keen on logistics of this sort happily obliged, and those of us confident in our ability self-selected for the fast "sub-26" section, myself included. A bit of a "seeded" farce if you ask me. Oh, well. Once again, I was handicapped by my standing start, but this time feeling my oats in the homestretch I outkicked five of my foes for a solid third place in 23 flat, less than a second behind the Lincoln man, who won; some 42-year old, past NYAC pole vault champion, took second. I was third, and to my greatest satisfaction, I beat the Lincoln man's arrogant teammate for the second time in the day--ha, ha! Often the littlest victories are the most rewarding. I then took a 200m jog recovery, when I noticed the competitors were already lining up for the 800m run. I felt tired, stiff and sore, my groin was slightly strained from the long jump, and the competition ahead looked really tough: Joaquin Chappa and Mike McGraff, U of O's middle distance stars, were both entered in the 800m. But I had resolved to run the 800m and by golly I was determined to go to the line! I was just having these thoughts when Ms. Jill Metzler, the Eugene all-comers meet Director, frantically stopped me in the infield. "You are not going to run any more events are you?" she asked rhetorically.
"Um, actually, yea the 800m," I replied, not catching her underlying demand, asked as a question.
"Well, actually, you are only allowed three events for three dollars, and you have already competed in four, not counting the Jogger's Mile."
"Oh," not thinking to offer her another three dollars, "well, how about if I rabbit."
"Well, you know," she assured me, "I don't really care, it is just what if someone asks, I saw Gabe Jennings compete in six events, but he only pays for three?"
"Oh, sure," I said, not being really too sure.
Anyways, it turns out that after hurrying over to the 800m start line and seeing McGraff and Chappa doing some really aggressive strides I chickened out of even doing the rabbit job. Of course, with Ms. Metzler's earlier forebodings still resonating in my ear—I felt that I had a valid justification for opting out? It is probably a good thing, too, considering that Chappa came through in 52 flat for the first quarter in route to a 1:52 victory by Mr. McGraff. So, Mr. McGraff defended his all-comers meet title and went home with another blue ribbon. After the race, I tried to convince Mr. Lananna that I wasn't trying to dodge a McGraff X Jennings show down, and I even explained the Metzler incident, how the meet director wouldn't let me run, but my old college coach just laughed, leaving me hardly reassured. So, I went home with a second in the long jump, second in the 400m, first in the Jogger's Mile (which doesn't count, unfortunately), sixth in the 100m, third in the 200m and a "NO-START" in the 800m. The no-start left me especially unsatisfied, even dejected. My depression was compounded by the fact that upon my return home to my Eugene apartment, my housemate, Jordan McNamara, incidentally a semifinalist in the 1500m at this year's National's meeting, was watching the Paris, Grand Prix, 1500m final showdown between Allen Webb and Medhi Baala. Webb outkicked Baala for the victory in 3:30, a new PR, and just one second from the American Record! How could I not feel the pains of envy?! While I experience a string of disappointments, my rival, Mr. Webb, revels in a string of victories on the world stage, while I on the other hand am defeated on my local home turf! But I try to reassure myself that these strong emotions build character and fan the flame of ambition! My morning run the next day was certainly more frisky than usual. And I now more than ever I feel that heart-wrenching desire to redeem my losses, rebuild my esteem, and to challenge Mr. Webb in the Olympic arena, or at least to play with Mr. Webb, as an opponent, as a friend and ally on the world stage of Olympic glory. At least these are the feelings I have now, hopes and dreams, as I pour forth an exuberance of energy into my "last lap" of professional competition—the build-up to the Beijing Olympics. Sure, I want to beat my enemies, but they are not even enemies, at least in the sense of war, just competitors, and maybe even allies as I just elucidated with Mr. Webb. The challenge as an Olympic athlete is to test your wit, psyche and brawn against your competitors, so that the excellence and virtue of the Games as a whole flourish. As athletes and Olympic contenders that is our greatest challenge: to perform excellently and beautifully in the spirit of competition. I hope to hold myself to that goal in this coming Olympic season. As for tomorrow, my next particular event, Thursday: the date of the next Eugene all-comers meeting, I hope to do my best and enjoy the process, no matter how much lactate head makes me nauseous, and fear bears down on me, at least the pressure to win will be minimal here at Eugene's friendly all-comers meetings compared to the future pressure and expectations that go along with say, The Olympic Trials! Realistically, tomorrow, I believe that I can defend my position in the long jump against that 12-year old girl; I hope to really JOG that high school punk into the ground in the Jogger’s Mile—maybe a 40 second margin of victory; I hope to put up a good fight against the Lincoln Man in the 400m; I hope to get a better start out of the blocks in the 100m; I hope to improve in the 200m; and finally to give Mr. McGraff a run for "the money" in the 800m, which leads me to my closing offering. As I will be paying $6 for entry into the meeting tomorrow instead of the usual $3 I thought that I would ask for one dollar "ticket" donations, that will go to the Gabe Jennings Competition Fund via In The Arena. So anybody who wants to come out and watch Mr. McGraff go head to head with Mr. Jennings in the 800m, tomorrow, and is feeling a generous inkling towards our sport can make a check out for one dollar, payable to the ITA!
As for my ITA community service, I am still ironing out the details of my project. I do hope to take on a much larger role this coming year and so far I am considering a few different options: running/coaching at either Lane Community College or Northwest Christian College of Eugene, or just coach/mentoring at South Eugene High School. All three possibilities are very appealing, and I am looking forward to a good 2007 all around!