Reality Sets In

The Lander Bearcats advanced to their first ever NCAA Elite Eight after downing Wingate in the Southeast Region Final. Unfortunately their season ended with a defeat to Rollins College. Senior Rachelle Rasley graciously volunteered to blog about the experience.

Rachelle Rasley

Rollins was a great team but we truly felt we were the better team. We had prepared as best we could but the ball just didn’t seem to bounce our way Tuesday night. Coach Pederson told us that it was disappointing that we couldn’t show everyone who doubted us what Lander was truly about. We played our hearts out but we all agreed we didn’t show the nation who we were and how we really played. We walked sulking to the locker room and we sat there in silence. I felt my heart sink. I looked around at all of my fellow teammates that I have had the privilege to play with over my last two years of college and the tears began to roll. I have never felt more part of a family than I have here at Lander. Each of these girls truly care about every player on this team.

My role in particular on this team was not the one who took the game winning shot or the one who set school records with points or steals. I was a vocal leader. I had an interesting perspective sitting the remainder of the season on the bench. With my background and view of the game I was able to help my teammates during games and was the one to pick them up during the roller coaster ride of runs during the games. I was always asked why I ran extra or got extra shots up if I didn’t really play. My response was that I have to perform at a high level to make the team better and push the starters. If they aren’t pushed in practice WE don’t get better as a TEAM. Yes there were times when I felt like giving up and not coming in to work out extra but I kept telling myself that win or lose, playing or sitting the bench, if my name was called, I would know deep inside that I had did everything in my power to make sure I was ready. That is something I want to reiterate to anyone out there reading this because as coach Pederson always says, “stay ready.”

My teammates always made me feel apart of the team no matter how much I played and emphasized that every puzzle piece to this team was needed for the ultimate goal of winning a championship. We never let anyone in our “wolf pack” lag behind. It was truly an honor to play for Lander University as well as Coach Pederson and Coach Shoemate. They have taught me lessons that I will carry for the rest of my life. I honestly feel like I became a much better person transferring to the good old city of Greenwood, SC.

After a valiant effort Lander was edged by Rollins 66-62 to end their postseason run. Click here for a recap of the game and here for video highlights.

A Life Lesson

By Mia Antoine

Why do we work so hard before and after every season? Why do we force ourselves to run endless sprints, to lift cumbersome weights, to wake up before the sun does just to practice? All athletes have wondered these thoughts at some point in their career, whether it was when we couldn’t go home for holiday break or when feeling the piercing chill of an ice bath to soothe the pain of sore muscles.

For me (and probably for a lot of other student-athletes out there), I am learning that if we really love what we play, then we work hard because we want to be the best. It’s so we don’t look back on things in the end and wish we had done more. We do it in hopes that one day the familiar sting of a loss will fade from being a good friend to a mere acquaintance to a complete stranger. We work now so that all of our dreams are met.

We all have our reasons as to why we commit to these lifestyles. Whether it’s because we are competitive or because we just had to get into college somehow or because we love it or were forced into it. Maybe it’s a combination of these reasons or completely different ones, but the fact remains that we are athletes and we have to sacrifice things in order to be successful. I am learning that success in this life means embracing bruises, stitches and broken bones as life lessons and pressing forward in our sports and in our lives. It’s the only way that we can reach our full potential and satisfaction in life. Isn’t it?

Mia and the USC Aiken Pacers women’s basketball team are off to a great start this year, with a current record of 5-1 as they prepare for their first PBC game against Flagler on December 10th.

Meet Caleb Brown, PBC Intern

There is a new face (a much taller one at that) around Peach Belt Conference headquarters. Caleb Brown, a four-year letterwinner in the vaunted Augusta State Jaguars men’s basketball program is now interning with the PBC. Meet him:

What’s up everybody my name is Caleb Brown. I am a former basketball student-athlete at Augusta State University, and I am currently finishing up my last semester towards my degree in communications studies.   As a requirement for one of my upper level classes, I needed to obtain an internship and perform a certain amount of hours in order to complete the class.  Fortunately I was given the opportunity to intern at the Peach Belt Conference, and it has been a great experience so far.

After being a student-athlete for four years, it does feel quite a bit different now that I no longer play basketball for my school.  No early morning conditioning to get up for, no more three hour practices, and no more long bus rides all across the southeastern United States.  Although these things might sound tedious, I have to admit that I do miss them (with the exception for conditioning of course).  I enjoyed the intense competitive nature of our games and practices, the feeling of having hundreds of fans in the stands screaming and cheering me on, and constantly joking around with my teammates on long bus rides. 

As athletes we usually hear the saying, “there’s always next year” after a tough season-ending loss. Well for me there will not be such a thing as a “next year”, (at least not athletically) and in several ways can be discouraging.  Throughout my entire life, my family would often advise me to set goals for myself as an athlete.  They realized how passionate I was about basketball at an early age, and did their best to support and assist me.   Throughout my high school and college career I had certain goals that I would set for myself. Setting these goals made me hungrier, made me work a little harder and gave me something to strive for.  That fact that I don’t have any goals for myself to achieve on the court for the next season is kind of strange.  The beginning of a new season was often my motivation for the past four summers as it would allow me to refocus on the new goals that I had set for myself.

I also have a lot more time on my hands now, and on some days I feel that I may have too much time on my hands.  The first couple weeks after our season ended were a little weird for me.  The fact that I had no workouts scheduled, no meetings to attend and no coaches to speak to, felt odd to me for a while.  Eventually I started to get used to it and found things to occupy my time. 

I find myself listening to music and reading a lot more than I used to.  Being from Virginia, I now have more time to make trips back home to spend time with family and old high school friends.  With the extra time on my hands, I have also been able to observe my interactions with people on the team.  I find myself not hanging out with them as much off the court as I did when I was on the team.  I don’t think that it’s something against them or me or anything of that nature, but due to the fact that I am not around them all time, so I’m not able to interact with them as much as I used too.  Nevertheless I still keep contact with certain players on the team, more specifically those that I played with last year.

Without a doubt the experience of being a student-athlete at ASU has been a wonderful one.  I have met and formed relationships with good people, and I have seen and gone to places that a lot of people don’t get a chance to go to.  Even though my run is now over, my experiences will definitely be something that I treasure for the rest of my life.

A Teamwork Manifesto, Part Two

This is the second of two posts Alex wrote chronicling and reflecting on his experience at Flagler’s first cross country meet of the year, the Bridgestone-Pacer Invitational held at USC Aiken. Click here to read Part One.

 Coming together is a beginning.  Keeping together is progress.  Working together is success.

 Henry Ford

Part Two:

Morning Nerves

My night is pretty restless, which is typical before a meet.  My intermittent wake-ups are worsened by the snoring of my teammate, Justin, whose nose apparently hasn’t adjusted to the crisp South Carolina air.

Still, when I do get out of bed at 5:30am, I’m dragging.  I throw myself into the shower with the heat on high to loosen up my leg muscles that tightened up overnight, and I start envisioning the course I plan to crush in just a few short hours.  Every turn.  Every hill.  Every descent.  I imagine the air.  I imagine how I’ll feel.  I imagine pain.  Thirst.  Competitors.  Fast times.  Slow times.  Anything that might go wrong.

Anything to prepare.

When I get out, I judge by the sounds of rustling sheets that I’ve disturbed everyone else in the room awake.  As I continue to get dressed and lace up my shoes, Justin, Zak and Mike slowly take turns using the shower and following through the same routine.  We don’t say much, but I get the sense they’re imagining the race just like me.  And though I’m not in the other rooms, I know the rest of the team is doing much of the same.

We head to the lobby just before 7 am for a light breakfast.  My stomach never handles food well early in the morning, and race day nerves only worsen that feeling.  I choke down half a bagel and part of a banana, focusing more on drinking water than on eating a large meal.

The rest of the team slowly starts to congregate.  Some sit in groups.  Some sit alone with iPods.  Some chat.  Some don’t.  I remain alone but interject every so often in nearby conversations.  I overhear comments about the weather.  About the race.  About the competition.

As if on cue, some of the Georgia College girls start to trickle in.  Our team is currently stuffing the lobby, so I head out to the bus to try and clear some room for them to eat.

Eventually the rest of the team follows suit, and we leave for the course a little after 7:30am

We arrive and carry our belongings out to a field near the starting line.  We lay down a tarp to sit on and start going through some pre-warm-up rituals — stretching, going to the bathroom, changing clothes.  I round up the men just after 8 for a light jog around the course.

Everything is the same as yesterday, except the air is a little cooler and the major hills seem less overwhelming.  We exchange few words, but I can feel the excitement.  The confidence.  Something special is going to happen today.  And after I change into my uniform and head to the starting line — I can’t wait to get out and race.

We take note of the other PBC teams in attendance—Augusta State, Montevallo and Francis Marion University.  Our eyes are on them.

A Boost Beats a Blunder

BANG!

The gun explodes just after 9 am, and sixty pairs of legs burst into motion.  Mike takes off toward the front of the pack, while I settle in to a comfortable pace with my freshman teammate, Corey.

Augusta State isn’t the same team we met at conference last year.  They have incredible depth, and six of their runners form a line in front of Corey and I, blocking us from speeding up but discouraging us from letting them go.

The first mile seems fast, but we pass the one-mile mark at 5:40 — twenty seconds slower than my goal pace, still tailing Augusta State’s pack.

Crap, I think, I knew this course would be tough, but what’s going on?

I feel tired.  I had tried to prepare myself for anything that might go wrong, but I didn’t expect to be running so slow off the bat.

I quickly start to worry that the Augusta State group is getting to my head.  They’re working as a team.  Encouraging each other.  Keep each other in check.  Not too fast.  Not too slow.  They run together — something we’re not yet able to do.

“We need to get in there!” I shout to Corey.  He acknowledges the need for teamwork and strides around them to try and break the barrier.

I worry he’s going to early, but surge to follow him.  There’s a long descent after the first downhill and our positions change rapidly.  Corey in front.  Augusta State sprints past.  A couple Montevallo runners pop around me.

The course flattens out and positions continue to change.  Some relax from the downhill, others surge in anticipation of the next hill.  Corey starts to slow down a bit so I take his place in front of Augusta State, hoping that seeing the both of us together will discourage them.

These changes continue for another couple miles, but I hit a mental barrier around the third mile.  Augusta State passes me and Corey pursues, but I’ve hit a wall.

I feel slow.  The hills are killing me.  The sand — rather than giving me an advantage — weaken the force of each stride.  I try to maintain pace uphill, but other runners surge past me.  On the downhills, they leave me in their dust.

I think, This isn’t going according to plan, and my race starts to break down.  Augusta State is getting more distant.  Corey is on their heels.

Jerseys start to blend together.  Was that Montevallo?  Which team is wearing dark blue?  Exhaustion is overwhelming me.

By the time I hit mile 4, just before the sandy climb to the finish, I know I’ve made a mistake.  I mentally checked out of this race too early.  I can see the spot where I should be — with Corey — about 500 meters ahead, attacking the final hill.

I’ve ran this race wrong, and it’s getting the best of me.

I do my best over the hill and try to cruise into the finish, but my legs don’t seem to work.  They don’t have any force now.  The willpower is gone.  I’m annoyed when I see my finishing time — 28:23.  I maintained the same pace from the first mile to the finish, and I wasn’t moving as slow as I assumed mid-race.  The time is still nowhere close to the time I should have ran, but I wish I had known I was doing better than I thought.

Anything that could have helped me mentally.  Anything to have given me strength.

I see Mike and Corey drinking water a few yards past the finish line.  I meet up with them and learn that Mike finished about a minute ahead and took third place.  Corey was thirty seconds behind him and took twelfth, just missing top-10 recognition.

In my disappointment with myself, I missed the finish of our other teammates.  Zak, Justin and Derek finished within ten second behind me, while our remaining two runners — Chad and Matt — were less than a minute behind them.  That means the first three set new personal records, while Chad and Matt — who had never ran an 8k before — set a time to beat.

I briefly wish I had known we were all so close together.  Maybe we could have worked together like Augusta State.  I don’t know what that close-knit pack will mean for our team standing, but I have a sense it’ll help us in the end.

We all discuss the race on our cool-down, waiting for the women to start.  Everyone is pleased with his performance.  After my dreadful experience, it’s nice to know everyone else had a good day.

And the good news continues with the women.

The women's 6k at the Bridgestone-Pacer Invitational

They look good from the start.  Stronger than last year.  More confident.  More intense.

We continue our jog backward around the course, meeting the women mid-way through the race to cheer.  Taylor races with the front pack.  Laura sits close behind with Kathleen on her tail.  Erin cruises downhill with our freshman runner, Nicole, both staring down the competitors in front of them.  Kaykay, Maddi and Ashley blaze by with a similar ferocity.

The men split up near the end of the race — some to the finish line, the rest to the final hill.  I choose the hill and have the pleasure of seeing Taylor surge past the first-place runner to take the lead into the finishing stretch.

I don’t see the finish, but I know by the look on her face that she’ll win.

The rest of the women battle over the hill — most of them surging past the runners in front of them — toward what I sense are some strong finishes.  When I meet them after the race, my sentiments prove accurate.  They’re all smiling.  They’re all pleased.  They all look like winners.

And when I see their joy, I forget about my pain.  My race no longer matters.  What matters is us.

After we’ve all cooled down and packed up the bus, we are shocked to see the results of the race.

Both teams took second place — with plaques to match.

After our 2nd place finish

As I’ve mentioned before, the Flagler cross-country program has come a long way in three years.  Winning awards is not something we’re accustomed to.  And though we all would have loved a victory, we know we’ve made a huge step from what we once were toward what we know we’re going to be.  Now, we’ve added some new numbers to that list of numbers I want to forget.

And it’s in this moment — as I put my arm around my teammates, smiling for the camera documenting our excitement — that I realize what scared so me so much about Augusta State.

It was their teamwork.  It was the bonds that they share that translate not just to friendship off the field, but into their races.

I watch as both their teams take their first place prizes, and I understand why.  It’s not just skill.  Not just speed.  It’s teamwork.

I’m jealous.  Envious.  But I admire them.

It’s something our team has, but it’s not something we’ve learned to express in sport.  Even though I’ve never felt closer to a group of people than I do with this team — even though I’ve never met anyone with greater ability to bring me joy even when I don’t think I deserve it — we don’t show it when we race.

We motivate one another even when we’re not together.  We work out together.  Travel together.  Hang out together.  Feel pain together.  Feel joy together.  Have fun together.  But we don’t yet work together on the field the way we do in everyday life.  We don’t have that same impressive level of teamwork in a race.

But it’s something we need to learn.  It’s something we’re going to learn.

And when we do, we’ll be unforgettable.

Feel free to leave comments, or contact Alex via Twitter (@jamesalexbonus)

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A Teamwork Manifesto, Part One

This is the first of two posts Alex wrote chronicling and reflecting on his experience at Flagler’s first cross country meet of the year, the Bridgestone-Pacer Invitational held at USC Aiken.

 Coming together is a beginning.  Keeping together is progress.  Working together is success.

 Henry Ford

A great team is the best remedy for a bad race.   I learned this in a bittersweet way last weekend, when pride in my team overpowered pity for myself.

In a recent post I expressed my vision to overcome the numbers that have haunted me for the last three years of my athletic career.  The rankings.  The clocks.  The seconds.  The splits.  Those numbers that have tried to tell me who I can be.  Who my team can be.

At our last race, I planned to test that ambition.  Though I failed on the individual front, we made huge strides as a team.

A Typical Day (and an Atypical Trip)

The Friday before the race was special.  In the past, we rarely traveled far for in-season meets, and when we did we never previewed the course the day before the race.  So when Coach Beil told us we’d be taking a bus to Aiken, South Carolina for the Bridgestone-Pacer Invitational — our first men’s 8k and women’s 6k of the season — the veterans on the team were understandably excited (and doubly so, since our conference meet will be held on the same course in October.)

The day starts like most others.  We had a hard fartlek (Swedish for “speed play”, a fartlek workout is simply sprinting and jogging off and on during a run) workout yesterday so coach expects we’ll carry out our individual Friday morning run as usual.  I sleep later than I do on a normal 6 am practice day, knowing I’ll still have enough time to eat and make it to the bus before our 10 am departure.

My legs feel trashed from yesterday’s workout, but the morning air is fresh and noticeably cooler than usual, so I relish the respite from Florida’s typical humidity.  As I run along the cobblestone streets in downtown St. Augustine, I think about the rest of the team doing their own workouts.  Beating the morning sun.  Fighting fatigue.  Prepping for race day.  The thought of their hard work motivates me.

Afterwards, I eat and pack and join the rest of the team as we gather in the gym before leaving.  Everyone’s on time — by coach’s standards.  We have to be ten minutes early to everything.  If not, he considers us late and we have to sit out a race (so far, there’s only been one incident, and I get the sense there won’t be more.)

I notice that we’re all dressed in various combinations of our warm-up sweats, jackets and long-sleeve t-shirts, apparently unable to find a consensus on how hot or cold the bus will be, and how much the weather will change on our trip north.

Coach goes over the itinerary for the trip.  Lunch in four hours.  Easy 5-to-7-mile run on the Aiken course two hours later.  Settle in the hotel after that.  Dinner after that.  Bed by 10 p.m.  Tomorrow is also laid out — our breakfast, the race, our lunch, the trip home.  Knowing coach’s unparalleled punctuality, I know the next 36 hours won’t stray far from this list.

The bus ride to the course is pretty uneventful.  I take a seat next to Mike — our current No.1 men’s runner — and consider ways to occupy myself until lunch.  My Spanish textbook sits buried in my bag under a few pairs of extra shorts and a pile of snacks for the bus ride, but I have no urge to venture into homework yet (even though I’m missing class for the trip, but I got ahead of my work before leaving, so my guilt is minimal.)

Erin — our resident red-head who switched to cross-country this year after exhausting her eligibility in soccer — suggests I look into reading the first book in The Hunger Games trilogy (a recent obsession for a handful of the women’s team.)  I agree, and get swept away to the world of Panem for the entire ride, breaking once for lunch and again to change to run once we arrive in Aiken.

I’d zoned out so much on the trip that I didn’t pay much attention to the rest of the world.  Most of the team is itching to get off the bus and stretch their legs on the course.  Clearly, our wardrobe confusion earlier in the day was warranted.  We bicker as we pull into the course parking lot, wondering how to dress for what looks like oppressively cold weather (at least when compared to our usual sunshine and sticky humidity).

Also, there are hills, which you’ll only find on a bridge in Florida.

We take the environment in stride (after some quiet murmurs of dislike from a few runners.)  It’s easy to tell which teammates originate from a northern state.  Zak and Taylor — both from Pennsylvania — express excitement over the idea of running on more familiar terrain.  The native Floridians are a bit more subdued.

Something about the course hits closer to home, though.  Most of the hills are covered in sand.  And though we don’t often take our in-season runs out to the beach, most of us have spent enough summer miles running beachside to feel comfortable on what most would see as an uncomfortable obstacle.

Deep down, I hope that will give us an advantage.

The rest of the course is much the same.  Uphills.  Downhills.  Sand.  There’s a nice 500-ish-meter sandy uphill just before the finish, which leads into a swift descent into the finishing stretch.  We plan to make moves there tomorrow, hoping to surprise the competition on that last hill with a sudden burst of energy.

Overall, we’re excited about tomorrow’s race.  And as we stretch before getting on the bus, the team’s tone is one of optimism.

After getting to our hotel, we quickly find that we’re not alone.  The women’s team from Georgia College is staying down the hall.  Our fellow PBC runners from the University of Montevallo are staying in an adjacent hotel.

We break up into groups of four and head to our rooms to shower, meeting back up to walk to the Applebee’s strategically placed in the same parking lot as our hotel.  Unfortunately, the Montevallo runners beat us to it, so rather than wait for tables we go exploring for other options.

(Note – 90 percent of the team is wearing sandals, despite weather in the 50s.  We’re not accustomed to packing footwear for anything except racing and sunshine, especially not in September.)

Luckily, we find a little hole-in-the-wall Italian joint that welcomes our large group.  The food takes a bit to arrive — especially the garlic bread appetizers — but its good enough to satisfy our post-workout, pre-race appetite.

(Another note — the easiest way to please a table of runners, and get a good tip, is to keep their baskets full of bread.)

Afterward, we make our way back to the hotel, meet up for a quick strategy meeting, then head to bed.  I insist my roommates deal with my keeping a light on for an extra hour so I’m able to finish reading The Hunger Games, which plagued my mind through dinner.  They oblige my ridiculous request, and after I finish the book, I drift to sleep in anticipation of tomorrow’s competition.

Click here to read Part Two.

Feel free to leave comments, or contact Alex via Twitter (@jamesalexbonus)