You want to talk about a real sport, check this out.
This past weekend I had a chance to witness an event that epitomizes what sports are all about.
A sport with no bad calls, funny bounces, tuck rules, leaping rules or Cubs' fans sitting in the front row. There was no pre-game banter or off-field antics creating more of an atmosphere of Days of our Lives than an actual sport. And there was no hype forcing the media to turn a blind eye to seven turnovers so their column on The next Michael Jordan could still run the following day.
Instead, this was pure sport, with people giving it their all every step of the competition, no official's timeouts, commercial breaks or injury stoppage time.
This sport is cross country, a sport that is sacred to those who understand it and non-existent to those who don't.
What these people do for sport others do for punishment, and they do it because they love it. When people talk about Pat Summit and how she makes her players run until they puke, that's cross country. When Notre Dame football players have to run a mile for every dropped pass, that's cross country. And the only glory they receive is from immediate family and significant others, if that.
Now, you might be thinking, Running
anyone can run. I just ran last week. Not like these guys, you didn't.
We're talking sub-five-minute miles (or sub-six miles for the women) in 40-degree temperatures with rain while wearing nothing more than what you might find in a Sisqo music video.
Countless runners cross the finish without breath, energy or that morning's breakfast. And the amazing thing is, no one stops to ask if they're all right.
At the Ohio Invitational, I witnessed a runner cross the finish line and everything he had eaten from the past week came up right there. The only consolation he got was a push through the chute so the other finishers might not be held up. (I suppose, on second thought, the official could have just been giving him a hearty pat on the back.)
Not two minutes after that incident, another runner dived through the finish line, sliding through whatever half-digested food the other runners hadn't picked up on their shoes only to move up from 60th place to 59th, a distinction equivalent to about a tenth of a point in a football game. I don't even think Dick Butkus would go for that.
Bottom line, these athletes are tough, as tough as they come. And although the Ohio cross country teams didn't have the showing they would have liked at the MAC Championships, I commend them for what they've shown me all season.
Pure sport: what could be better than that? 17
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Kyle Jepson
