Freshmen

Most of my training partners were gone this week. They were off in Greensboro, NC trying to qualify for the NCAA Championships (a lot of them did, congrats to all the Columbia and Gtown kids who are flying out to Eugene in a week for NCs!), so I was left with but a few kids to run with.

They happened to be freshmen. The whole week I was running along with Andrew Springer and Bobby Peavey. I am five years older than these kids, so one would think that my maturity level may not necessarily mesh with theirs…but it was an AWESOME week.

It reminded me of my freshman year. My classmates and I were idiots. We were always scheming and planning something. Once, we planned a dinner date for the entire freshman class. It was going to be held at the famous (or more infamous) Columbia Cottage, a Chinese food place where free wine was served with dinner. We told everyone that they must dress nicely. Here is a quote from the invitation we sent out to the class of ’08: “A night of class, sophistication, and revelry. This is a formal affair in which you will dress appropriately and act in a proper and fair manner.” We went on to tell the girls that they would be paying for dinner since we took care of the wine tab beforehand. Somehow, people showed up even though as freshmen boys, we were clowns.

But Peavey and Springer aren’t really as big of idiots as I was, at least I don’t think so. Our runs were spent discussing video games (namely tetris, which apparently Springer is very good at). And in the process, Springer and Peavey tried beating me in some workouts.

Tuesday of this week was not an easy day for me. It was hot and humid, and I was doing a 5k workout; my least favorite type of workout. We were running 500, 1k, 500, 2k, 500, 1k, 500 all at 67.5 pace. Two minutes were allotted for resting between the intervals, which seems like a lot until you have just run a 2k in 5:37.

So we get through the 2k in 5:37, and Springer is looking good. Peavey’s foot is kind of bothering him, so he stops the workout. It’s just Springer and I (he’s legit, ran 4:02 for a full mile as a high schooler last year), and I do not run the 500 too well. I hit the pace, but struggle doing it.

Coach to me: “Can you finish this up, Liam?” Me to coach: “I don’t know.” And then I walk away from him to the start line for the 1k. I was straight hurting. Arms locking up, back arching, lactic acid filling my legs. Springer took us through the first 400: 67.1. I was hurting like hell, and definitely questioned dropping away from him. Then all of a sudden, I wasn’t anymore. I was just going to stay on him and finish this workout. We came through in 2:14 and finished up in 2:47. Then I led the last 500 and we ran 1:18 (62 through the quarter). I was done. But I had finished.

Two weeks ago I would have dropped out of the workout, but sometimes good things happen even when you feel terrible. The rest of the week went well, and now I’m getting stronger and stronger waiting for USAs.

My schedule is shaping up: I am going to be running an 800 at Indianapolis on the 12th of June and then gearing up for USAs after that (sorry to Ryan Pett, I definitely thought about the Tennessee Distance Classic, but its just not going to work out, thanks for the suggestion!). As always: Let’s Go!!

Ps – if you’re looking to read even more Liam Boylan-Pett, check out my latest PowerBar blog-post.

FOUND

Blink! An eye opens wide; the pupil expands then coils back in, the dark, monarch brown iris twinkling. Gasp! A deep breath beckons as the eye blinks and focuses. Where the hell am I?

To go along with the rest of the blogging/twittering/facebooking/anythingonlineing world, this week’s post is a LOST extravaganza. Writing this, I am on a plane across the country back to DC. I am supposed to land at 7:10…then I am getting picked up from Dulles, and hopefully making it back to my place in time for the finale of one of the greatest television dramas of all time.

(Side note: I enjoy comedies so much more than dramas, while I love Lost, it probably doesn’t even crack my five favorite tv shows of all time…in order:
5. It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia (crude and hilarious)
4. The Wire (the best overall television show I’ve ever watched, just not funny)
3. Southpark (Cartman may be the best character ever)
2. Seinfeld (Not original in terms of favorite show choice, but classic)
1. Arrested Development (Short lived, but if you haven’t watched the first two seasons, I pity you))

But don’t worry, since this is a running blog, it will only be Lost themed. And how will I do that? By comparing my season of running to Jack’s arc on the Island. (There will be some serious reaching in what follows, but like I have done with the last two seasons of Lost, just go with it.)

When Jack first got to the Island, he wanted what anyone who was on a stranded Island would: off. So, he did whatever he could to try to get him and his people off the Island. Then, he finally gets off the god-forsaken place, and he wants to go back? Meanwhile, some smokemonsters and dead people did some weird things, and now Desmond and Penny might not end up together and I’m pretty upset about that. However, back to Jack.

In Seasons 5 and 6, and the dude was pretty lost (pun intended), in terms of what to do with his life. He was more the man of science that that of fate. He always forced things, and sometimes it worked out well, others, not so much. This was me the first part of the season. I was forcing it, trying to make it work out way too well. I was lost. I didn’t know what exactly I was running for. It is a transition no longer being a part of a team and running on your own. I struggled to find meaning in my races.

Now, Jack finds himself with a mission. He is focused, and he is ready to protect this Island. I’m back on track too. I may not officially be on a team anymore, but in actuality, I am still on a ton of them. The opening eye that Lost so often uses is focusing (which reminds me of another awesome tv show, Friday Night Lights, and its awesome motto: Clear Eyes, Full Hearts, Can’t Lose!).

I’m still a Bath runner, still a Columbia Runner, still a Georgetown runner.

Now I can only hope that I find out what the hell Jack is, and what this damn Island means in tonight’s LOST finale…that is if I even catch it due to this stupid flight.
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First PR of the year! Gotta like that. The race was at Occidental College, just north of L.A. I figured if it was good enough for the President to hang out there a few weekends, it would be good enough for me to race there. Sure enough, it was pretty awesome. Getting ready for the race I was listening to my music and gazing out at the mountain range in the distance. I couldn’t complain.

In terms of the race, I am a little upset that I wasn’t a little more aggressive for the start, but overall it was good. I let the main pack get a little too far ahead of me, and then found myself in too much traffic the last 300 meters of the race. I was still really happy with my last 100 and I definitely think there is a lot more left in the tank. Plus, I was starting to become the Sam Bair III of 3:41s, so it was nice to run 3:40.15 (why couldn’t I dip under!?!).

Now is time to find out the rest of the season, for now I know as much as everyone else…I’ll be sure to update once I know what’s up with my season.

Let’s Go!

Race footage: http://www.runnerspace.com/eprofile.php?do=videos&event_id=3423&video_id=26724&folder_id=-2

UPDATE: I did make it back in time for the finale...it was totally AWESOME.

That's The Midwest For Ya...

If you followed my journal during my European travels this summer (you can find that starting here), then you’ll remember that I always pack two extra things for each track trip:

It was April of 2007, and the Columbia Middle-Distance Crew was getting ready for their trip out to California for the warm weather and the prestigious Mt. Sac Relays. Senior Kent Collins was the captain of that team.

If you know Kent, then you will know that this conversation actually did take place. (My family had the pleasure of meeting Kent this year when the Final Four was in Detroit and he and my brother went. I will not be surprised if he is a topic of conversation at family dinners for years to come.)

It was the night before we left on an early morning flight, here is how the conversation went:

KENT: Hey man, make sure to bring two extra pairs of underwear.
ME: Haha, why?
KENT: dude, you always bring two extra pairs of underwear…one in case you poop your pants, and one in case your roommate poops his. (He said it as if I was stupid for even asking.)
ME: Well, what if we both, um, you know? And then one of us does it a second time?
KENT: Well you pray to God that both you and your roommate followed the rule…otherwise, two total pants poopings is all you get.

So yeah, I always pack a few extra pairs of undergarments. However, I was a little nervous heading into the USA Road Mile Championship in Minneapolis this past week. That’s because I wasn’t sure who my roommate was going to be, and I definitely wasn’t sure if he new about the Underpants Rule.

Upon arriving in the Twin Cities, I had no worries at all. But that’s because the race directors took such good care of us, that I figured they’d have extra tighty-whities up the whazoo. I roomed with Jordan Fife, and he was a great guy.

It’s pretty fun when you’re on the elite level because everyone is so professional and does their own thing so that they can run fast. Jordan was coming from Flagstaff for some altitude training, so we were on different schedules, but we made it work. And I’m pretty sure we had no problems in regards to briefs.

As far as the race, I am happy with it, but definitely not pleased. I was waayyyyy too close to some guys not to nip one or two of them at the line. I felt like a group of 7 of us separated from the pack in the last 400-meters, and I happened to take last out of that group. It was good to be a part of that group, but I need to beat a few of those guys next time I am there. But 7th place in a race stacked with middle-distance talent, and I cannot complain too much.

Now, I just have to get ready for Occidental and what promises to be a fast 1500 next weekend in LA. Other than Bernard Lagat and Lopez Lomong, it is pretty much a USA final in the event, it is going to be really fun. I’m treating it like my Big East Meet and HEPS combined…

LET’S GO!!

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Check out race footage here: http://www.runnerspace.com/video.php?do=view&video_id=26167

Also, for an article I wrote for Columbia College Today, check it out:
http://www.college.columbia.edu/cct/may_jun10/alumni_corner

Family Records

The spiked shoes on the runner in front of him gripped the cinders and then tossed them out behind. His Chuck Taylors failed to have the same effect as they slid across the black surface. With “FRASER T&F” stitched onto his singlet in blue and gold, and a budding pony-tail flowing in the wind behind him, the runner in the Chucky T’s labored past the spiked runner and crossed the finish line in first place.

His time for the ½-mile: 2:00.0

And with that a family record was born. It was the late 60s, and 2-flat for a freshman was promising to say the least. That runner was my Dad, and as a freshman in high school, the guy could run.

Walter Pett decided to stop running after that year (he claims he hated the coach), but his two-minute half would live on for years to come.

My brother and I have encyclopedic minds when it comes to our track times. (My mile PR’s from 7th grade on: 5:20, 4:54, 4:38, 4:21, 4:17, 4:10, 4:09, 4:08, 4:06, 4:04, 3:59, 4:00.) And because of this, we have a set of family records. Call it the Boylan-Pett Record Book. We have categories for each age group. There’s seventh grade 800, which Will has at 2:19, and 12th grade 3200, which Will has at 9:31. Then there’s every other age group and record ranging from 800-3200, which I have. Juust kidding, Will has freshman year 1600 and most 3200s as well.

Will and I dominate the record books. Only one record didn’t have the name Will or Liam next to it. It was the 800 (or half-mile, since that’s what they ran back in the 60s) for 9th grade: and the 2:00 remained the record after I was only able to run a 2:01 as a relay split.

But this week, there were some changes made to the record book, which is now titled the Boylan-Pett/Pett/Fanta Records. That’s because Annie, my little sister, decided to drop a 63.7 one-lapper as a seventh grader! Yiikes that is moving! Congrats to Annie for moving her skinny little self around the track so quick. I’m looking forward to see what her and her teammates can do the rest of the track season as they have some fast girls rocking the Mid-Michigan track circuit.
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Training went well this week. I’m looking forward to heading out to Minneapolis to run a road mile on Thursday night. Back to some good old fashioned street racing, and I really can’t complain about that. It is shaping up to be a really good field, and I’m starting to get pretty jacked up for it.

Got to actually run some fast stuff in practice on Friday as I did 3x600 with the first two at 1:26.6 and then 1:26.4. Then ran the last one in 1:21 after coming through the first 200 in 28high. Nice to get back to some 800 paced stuff and starting to get sharp for some racing...

That’s all for this week: the picture is in honor of Mother’s Day and my favorite Mom quote of all: “She just shown on me like the sun.” Happy Mother’s Day!

Let’s GO!!

Degrees

So this is going to be a short post. My final project in my Master’s program is due May 3, so I have to make sure it is perfect. My project is a lot about running, though, so you all will get a little treat to it…mainly because I had no idea what to write about this week, so I’m just going to cut and paste something in.

I wasn’t extremely pleased with my race at Stanford this week, but there was a lot to learn from it. Namely, that I need to be able to handle being tired and head into a race still with my head on straight. I am racing May 13th in Minneapolis for the USA Road Mile Championship and then May 22nd at Occidental College for a hopefully fast 1500… That’s all the updating for now. Enjoy the opening to my Capstone Project (thesis type project for journalism students at Gtown)…

Traveling Stoll Road in Bath, Michigan, the distance between Upton and Center Roads is one mile. Starting at Upton and going east to west, the first three hundred yards is flat before a steep hill leads to a mailbox marked 7804 that signals the first quarter mile. A field opens up to the south while tall pine and walnut trees hug the north side of the street as the dirt road flattens out for another two hundred meters. Long blades of crabgrass droop over the shoulder of the road as the fuzzy ends of the yellow foxtail weed find themselves caked in brown dust. A slight downhill begins as three ranch style houses appear behind the giant Oak Trees lining their front yards. Power lines carry long black ropes down the hill and continue onward towards Center. At the halfway point, one smaller electricity post stands alone, away from the larger ones lining the entire street. One measly, black cord extends from the post. It makes its way to another lonely pole, drooping in the middle to form a sad smile. Below the lowpoint of the smile is a creek that cuts under Stoll perpendicularly. Extending from Potter Lake to the southwest, largemouth bass sometimes follow the creek outward. A young fisherman sits atop the steel cylinder tunnel that runs below the road with his legs dangling back and forth above the clear water. If he hears anything other than the buzz of horseflies and gnats, it is the faint crunches of gravel. Quick, rhythmic steps tread over the dirt road and the crunch becomes more and more audible. The fisherman turns around to see a runner approaching him. A sun worn mop of frizzled, curly hair bounces on top of his head with each step. Sweat beads flow from his hairline down his hollow cheeks and fall from his chin down to his chest. Sweat soaked shorts swish with each step as droplets splatter in dark brown splotches on the road behind him.

“One fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine,” The voice inside my head counts off as I pass the electrical post to my right that marks a half-mile to go. “They’re on pace now, just over halfway there.”

I wave my arm at the fisherman and only slightly disrupt my running motion before switching my concentration to the approaching hill. Up I run past the farmland to my left. To my right is the Jerome’s, an old farmhouse with black shutters outlining each of the windows. Robson Road branches off to my right and I only have a quarter mile to go.

“Two fifty-eight, two fifty-nine,” The announcer in my head reads off. “400 to go and these guys are getting going now.”
I steady myself and pick up the pace, bouncing a little higher with each step as I arrive at the crest of the hill and begin a slight decline for the last 200-meters.

“Less than half a lap to go and Boylan-Pett looks like he’s going to get under!”

I hunker down and veer to the right side of the road, picking up the tempo even more. Down the last hundred I float, covering ground as smoothly as possible.

“Three fifty-seven, fifty eight, fifty nine…”

I pass the stop sign to my right and click my watch.

“He just did it ladies and gentlemen! Liam Boylan-Pett has broken four for the mile!...”

I snap out of the track world in my head and glance at my watch. No three on it. Not a five or a nine either. Forty-five minutes and six seconds, it shows.

The imagination of an aspiring high school miler lets you break four even on easy runs.