Conroe Family YMCA Trail Run 5K Commentary
USATF official Denton Morse told me a story a year or so ago when I picked up from him a large number of old running magazines.
He lives on Westcott Street in Houston close to a stretch of pavement that is used as the calibration distance in measuring road racing courses in Southeast Texas.
He told me a story about how in 1981 that Jeff Galloway - who was a master at pacing - was in town to do a 10K and as he crossed the finish line he told race officials that their course was short.
Morse went on to explain that they checked that control section and sure enough, he was right. As a result, records from the 1978 to 1980 Houston Marathons are invalid because the course for those races are short.
Last time, I checked Galloway was an Olympian who competed for the United States in the 1972 Games in the 10,000 meters. He had the credentials to make such a statement whether he was right or not.
The things that you hear when you don't run a race I guess don't surprise me anymore, but what I do know is that The Woodlands' Ben Schulz is no Jeff Galloway.
What were Schulz's first words after crossing the finish line of today's Conroe Family YMCA Trail Run 5K? "The course is long."
Perhaps it was, but this isn't the Foot Locker National High School Cross Country meet that Schulz competed in as a senior at The Woodlands High School in the fall of 2004.
This was Camp Owen. Conroe, Texas.
And no, live Internet coverage by DyeStat wasn't being produced from San Diego, where the meet is held.
Grow up beyond your 21 years of age, show some humility and be thankful that you're in shape to run with the body that God's given you.
And next time, walk over, introduce yourself to either the race director, Todd Bryant; the YMCA director, Scott Harper, or the YMCA's Group Marketing Director, Roxanne Davis, and let them know privately.
Instead, Kent Adams with Run Wild Timing felt it was appropriate to get up and coddle the youngster and tell him that the course was actually 3.2 miles and that he would adjust the pace (of all runners.)
I mean I could see where Schulz might be concerned if Spring's Jacob Mazone - all 45 years of himself - was nipping his heels and about to kick his ass, but Schulz - who didn't need to time a closing kick appropriately - stretched a 20-second lead coming out of the woods to a 36-second win over one of the top masters runners in the area.
(And, yes, I guess because school's out at Texas A&M that Schulz signed up with his real name and not Ben Schuh, like he did at the Spring Fever 5K.)
The other misguided individual of the day was Magnolia 44-year-old Evan Guy.
This "guy" made more of an ass out of himself than anybody I've ever seen in quite some time.
He was 20 minutes late to the start. I was standing fairly close to Roxanne Davis. He asked me if he could still start and I told him to ask Roxanne. He said, "It's a chip-timed race. Like why not?" Roxanne pointed him to Kent.
Long story short, Kent sent him on his way and he was off.
Here's the kicker in case you don't know how the Champion Chip technology works. The timing mat that you step on to pick up the transistor in the chip, of course, feeds into the little yellow boxes that you see. What a lot of people may not be aware of is that there is a cable that goes from the box to the computer. That is how the results get into a database to print the results.
Once everyone starts the race, the person in charge of doing the timing walks over to the yellow box and takes the cable that goes from that box to the computer and moves it to another yellow box which captures all of the finishing times.
Mr. Guy showed up after that switch was made. So while it was a "chip-timed" race, he was basically running for gun time. (Steve Boone would have told the guy, "Sure you can start as long as you're OK with your time being your gun time.)
When the "guy" finished, he came over to Kent and made a little bit of a big stink (yes, that's a Texas oxymoron) with him about "Can you put me down for 25:30? I paid my $22."
Sure, I paid my $22 too and I want 12:47 for a new world record.
What an idiot.
Did this guy have to prove that he ran the race? Wait, maybe he needed his time to show in the results because he was running the Montgomery County Triple?
If so, he needs three of the smallest, most gnarly pine cones we can find.
He lives on Westcott Street in Houston close to a stretch of pavement that is used as the calibration distance in measuring road racing courses in Southeast Texas.
He told me a story about how in 1981 that Jeff Galloway - who was a master at pacing - was in town to do a 10K and as he crossed the finish line he told race officials that their course was short.
Morse went on to explain that they checked that control section and sure enough, he was right. As a result, records from the 1978 to 1980 Houston Marathons are invalid because the course for those races are short.
Last time, I checked Galloway was an Olympian who competed for the United States in the 1972 Games in the 10,000 meters. He had the credentials to make such a statement whether he was right or not.
The things that you hear when you don't run a race I guess don't surprise me anymore, but what I do know is that The Woodlands' Ben Schulz is no Jeff Galloway.
What were Schulz's first words after crossing the finish line of today's Conroe Family YMCA Trail Run 5K? "The course is long."
Perhaps it was, but this isn't the Foot Locker National High School Cross Country meet that Schulz competed in as a senior at The Woodlands High School in the fall of 2004.
This was Camp Owen. Conroe, Texas.
And no, live Internet coverage by DyeStat wasn't being produced from San Diego, where the meet is held.
Grow up beyond your 21 years of age, show some humility and be thankful that you're in shape to run with the body that God's given you.
And next time, walk over, introduce yourself to either the race director, Todd Bryant; the YMCA director, Scott Harper, or the YMCA's Group Marketing Director, Roxanne Davis, and let them know privately.
Instead, Kent Adams with Run Wild Timing felt it was appropriate to get up and coddle the youngster and tell him that the course was actually 3.2 miles and that he would adjust the pace (of all runners.)
I mean I could see where Schulz might be concerned if Spring's Jacob Mazone - all 45 years of himself - was nipping his heels and about to kick his ass, but Schulz - who didn't need to time a closing kick appropriately - stretched a 20-second lead coming out of the woods to a 36-second win over one of the top masters runners in the area.
(And, yes, I guess because school's out at Texas A&M that Schulz signed up with his real name and not Ben Schuh, like he did at the Spring Fever 5K.)
The other misguided individual of the day was Magnolia 44-year-old Evan Guy.
This "guy" made more of an ass out of himself than anybody I've ever seen in quite some time.
He was 20 minutes late to the start. I was standing fairly close to Roxanne Davis. He asked me if he could still start and I told him to ask Roxanne. He said, "It's a chip-timed race. Like why not?" Roxanne pointed him to Kent.
Long story short, Kent sent him on his way and he was off.
Here's the kicker in case you don't know how the Champion Chip technology works. The timing mat that you step on to pick up the transistor in the chip, of course, feeds into the little yellow boxes that you see. What a lot of people may not be aware of is that there is a cable that goes from the box to the computer. That is how the results get into a database to print the results.
Once everyone starts the race, the person in charge of doing the timing walks over to the yellow box and takes the cable that goes from that box to the computer and moves it to another yellow box which captures all of the finishing times.
Mr. Guy showed up after that switch was made. So while it was a "chip-timed" race, he was basically running for gun time. (Steve Boone would have told the guy, "Sure you can start as long as you're OK with your time being your gun time.)
When the "guy" finished, he came over to Kent and made a little bit of a big stink (yes, that's a Texas oxymoron) with him about "Can you put me down for 25:30? I paid my $22."
Sure, I paid my $22 too and I want 12:47 for a new world record.
What an idiot.
Did this guy have to prove that he ran the race? Wait, maybe he needed his time to show in the results because he was running the Montgomery County Triple?
If so, he needs three of the smallest, most gnarly pine cones we can find.
posted by WalkSports.com | 5:06 PM
1 Comments:
"the course was actually 3.2 miles" ...the challenging terrain (and people like, I imagine) are the reason that Tom McBrayer doesn't like to certify trail races!
What a bunch of whiners.
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