The other day at a cross-country race, I watched – in shock – as a young runner walked off the course at the exact moment she was passed by a teammate. My first thought was, doesn’t she know how a cross-country meet is scored?! Her dropping out will surely add 10 or 15 points to the team score – thus, jeopardizing their victory. My next thought was, something is terribly wrong in our culture if we are teaching children that the only two options are win or quit.
I got to thinking about what I would do if I were her coach and had to deal with such a delicate situation. I suspect her side-stitch was really a pride-stitch, and that she was certainly physically capable of finishing the race … but blasting, “How dare you!?” and accusing her of selfishness might turn a talented runner away from the sport forever. This would be the perfect opportunity for one of those “teachable moments” educators are always talking about.
Here’s what I would try to teach:
Back in 1988, when I was in the final of the 10,000m at the Olympic Trials, I developed a bruised toe in the early going of the 25-lap race. I was not fast enought to make the Olympic team, but I was fit enough to hang with the lead pack … that is, until my toe filled up with blood like a grape. I limped along, lap after lap, and was eventually passed by the entire field. With one lap to go, I was the only runner on the track when the announcer called out, “Let’s bring her in, folks! That’s Joan Nesbit finishing …” but, you see, I wasn’t finishing. I had only run 24 laps. The announcers were wrong. I had one more lap to go. SO, I had a choice: I could either stop and accept the polite applause or continue running what I thought (at the time) was a final lap of shame.
I pressed on … past the lap counters, past the time-clock, past the polite applause, and into dead silence on the back-stretch. Silent, that is, until I heard one lone hand-clap. “Atta girl!” I heard. Clap. Clap. Clap-clap-clap. “Atta girl, Joanie!” It was my father. My dad was standing up and cheering for me alone. He knew I had made a difficult, but right, choice. This was no lap of shame. Despite my last place finish, it was a victory lap!
That is what I would tell the young runner who dropped out of her race.
And this:
My father later died of prostate cancer and was unable to witness my “better” Olympic Trials performances in 1992 and 1996 … so, what if I had quit that day in 1988? What might he have missed? What might I have missed? What might you miss if you drop out?
I’ve only dropped out of 3 races.
Once was planned, I ran 5k of a 10k track race.
Once I hyperventilated while running a 1600 race in middle school.
I dropped out of a steeple my freshman yr at a last chance meet at unc.
The race in middle school I was yelled at for it. Which looking back I did the right thing.
The college race I can remember hearing Vig go ballistic in the stands when I stepped off the track. I was going to run embrassingly slow after PR’ng the week before. But a hour or so afterwards Vig calmly asked me why I dropped out, and basically told me dropping out was disrespectful to myself, the school, and him. That racing is about giving your best on that day and quiting b/c your not having a good day is not giving your best.
The win or quit attitude is for the birds.
As is the everyone wins trend these days.
Reading your post made me think of distance runners who DNS or DNF from marathons when they hear someone is showing up who is faster than them, and they are not going to win anyway! “Winners don’t quit, ever!”