I wake up suddenly. I realize my running clothes are still on, even my shoes. I’m laying face down on top of my covers. The light in my room is on, door open, and my long-sleeved shirt is wet. I check the clock and it reads 4:13.
I must have been sleep runnings again. It seems as though the more I run during the day, the more likely I go run while I’m “sleeping”. I ran 20 miles yesterday morning, so it shouldn’t have come as a suprise.
I check my phone, hoping there aren’t any texts, but in a way, praying there was. The last thing I remember before drifting off was I was waiting for a text from Juli. I hate falling asleep while I’m texting someone. I text a simple message to her. “Just two days..” I get a reply, and fear I interrupted her REM. Thankfully, she was already awake.
It was then I realized that, in a half hour, the sun would start to come up, and splash color on its canvas. Dawn and dusk, to me, are like watching a painting come to life. It’s a beautiful phenomenon. I rarely get up early enough to watch the sun rise, so I take full advantage of this opportunity. I dress in clean clothes, keeping in mind that I will be going to church later this morning, and forgetting that my body was sweating less than an hour ago.
I step outside, onto the deck. This gives me the best view from my house. Color is just starting to spread from the horizon. I sit and watch for a few minutes. I head back inside and grab a banana, restarting my metabolism. I know I probably need the potasium any way. I watch the color slowly spread into the sky. I hear coyotes, communicating with one another; bats, finding their last minute insects before heading back to their caves; and antelope, stirring in the open lot across the street. I go back inside, and prepare the coffee pot. I’m running on two hours of sleep, and who knows how much of that was spent on the road.
Going back outside, there is more color. A deep pink at the horizon. As my eyes move away from the shadows, the pink fades to a beautiful shade of purple, then dark blue. I go back inside and put some sugar and milk in a mug. My first cup of coffee has to be sweet. By my third cup, it can almost be black, though I don’t plan of having that much coffee. Light starts to fill the land, and the canvas now has a new color: orange. The clouds are starting to get some color to themselves, and their curves are becoming defined.
Yellow to orange, to red and purple, to a darker shade of blue. The clouds are pink on their eastern faces, and its beautiful. The sunrise is at its peak of beauty. The artist is making his statement, but it will only stay like this for a few moments. I inhale deeply, and slowly exhale. It is breath taking. I take my phone out. I take some quick pictures, and wishing Juli was here to see this with me, I send a couple to her. As I send them, depression sets in. I wish she was here to enjoy such a beautiful morning.
I take another sip of coffee. I’m on my second cup, not realizing I had gotten more. The artist now starts to show his face over the horizon, and the sunrise’s beauty not starts to fade into day. Even though Juli wan’t with me, I’m happy again. A natural high comes over me, much like the endorphines right before a race. I have just witnessed what so few people take the time to see: a beautiful beginning to a new day.
Slow down, breathe, and enjoy the simple pleasures of life.
~Bredelman, OUT
It has been awhile since I have made a post. Nothing of interest has really happened. So, in a desperate attempt, I will tell all of you what has happened since my last post.
Since my last post, I quit my job. I just needed break. It is so nice, being unemployed, once you get past the fact that no more money is entering your bank account. I have so much time. Yesterday, for example, I took my dog for a drive. Just out of the blue. It may come to a surprise to many, but it was fun. We didn’t go very far, or fast, but having that time with my best friend gave me a spirited revival.
There is also a French girl living with my family for the time being. She’s nice, cute, but we haven’t connected.
I took my brother for a hike along the Yellowstone River. Another thing I was able to do, thanks to being unemployed. Half the trail seemed as though swamp land. Mosquitoes. Mud. Water. Trees and vines. It was nice to get away. We stopped in a dry, open spot along the river, and I heated some water and we had a couple cups of hot apple cider. The fast, cold, dangerous water of a river at the end of spring just feet away made me think of simpler times. When bison were in the millions. When there were no paved roads. No cars. No gyms. When, if one wanted food, they had to catch it. If one wanted to see nature, they just had to look out of the tent, tipi, cabin. When, if one wanted a true adventure, they just had to pick a direction to go in.
This brings me to the second part of my blog. Since school has ended and I quit my job, I have been waiting to go on an adventure. Some call it vagabonding. Some call it tramping. Some call it wandering. Whatever you decide to call it, that is what I want.
I do not want to map it out. I do not want to worry about money. The only thing I want to worry about is how I am going to reintroduce myself to society.
A true adventure.
We, as society, have lost touch with our fun, adventurous, wild side. Many know it is there, but don’t know how to release it. Some are able to. I tip my hat to those who find a real adventure. Yes, there are dangers. But they are able to overcome the fear. Once you overcome the fear, you unlock fun. And fun is addictive.
I don’t know where I am going with this, to be honest. I am just rambling on.
Tomorrow, I leave to for a trip to Dallas, Texas. On the way, I will be stopping in Yellowstone National Park. I will also be stopping to go white water rafting, something I have not yet experienced. I will also go to a couple amusements parks. My trip should be fun. My trip could get some of my adventurousness out of me. But, if it is fun, and if what I had said about fun earlier, I will be looking for my next fix of adventure.
I can’t wait.
Go explore, America.
~Bredelman, OUT
It’s all in the atmosphere. It is the most important meet of a high school track athlete’s career. This is the time to show what you have. This is what you have worked for all season, year, high school career, and before. The crowd is loud. Records are broken. Pride is gained and lost. These are the top track athletes in the state.
I went for the 800. It has been described as the hardest race in track. Two laps of a near sprint.
I’m seeded number 3, in lane 4. There are 9 other runners. To the right, I have the top seeded runner, from Flathead. His time is only a second better than mine. My adrenaline is pumping as my nerves peak.
“Runners set!” Time stops as I take one last breath in. BANG! All ten of us are moving.
As I come off of the second curve, I sit at the back of the pack, about to get boxed in. I make a move to get out of the trap I fear the most. I escape, as I have managed to do all season. The bell rings and I am passing the pack with the number one seed. We made the same shifts at the same points in our races. We are chasing after the leader of the first lap, from Butte and the defending state champ, who is only a few meters ahead. With 200 meters left, the Flathead runner starts passing the Butte runner. I am not far behind, but I fail to pass the person now in second.
A hundred meters to go. This is the last stretch of the race. My kick is about to reach its peak. I see out of the corner of my eye, another runner next to me. I make another shift to fight him off, and start gaining on the Butte runner again. I come up behind him, and make my final, last ditch shift, in an attempt to pass him.
What makes the 800 so hard is the amount of pain one goes through at the end. If the race doesn’t hurt, you aren’t racing.
I am in so much pain at this point, and I am about to put myself into more.
The Butte runner makes a shift in an effort to keep me from passing him. We cross the finish line, and the race is over. I finished in third.
My time was 1:58.8. The Butte runner’s time was 1:58.7, and the winner had a time of 1:56.
I can’t be mad about my race. I finished in the place I was seeded, with the fastest time in my life.
But I can’t help to think that I could have put myself through more pain. I could have made shifts earlier.
My race could have been different. But it is over. I can’t go back and change it now.
That was the last race of my high school career, and, maybe, the last track race of my race.
I gave it a good run.
~Bredelman, OUT
It has been a while since I have made a post, but I have been pretty busy with training. It is now the end of the track season in Montana. There is only one week until the State Championship. I have had a good season, especially in the 800. When it comes to the 1600, I have not been as successful, but better than last year.
The 800. 800 meters. 600 steps. 2 laps. 1 victor. It is one of the hardest races in track. It is a challenge. Not many can put themselves through the pain of two minutes of near sprinting. It is what I like to call, “Fun.”
I have won the 800 before. I have won it at all of the duels, and even at one of the big invites. Last week, at the city meet, it was me, a teammate, and the top 800 runner in the conference. I lost that race, but it set a fire within. This weekend was the AA Eastern Divisionals meet. I would face the same runner I lost to the week before. I wanted that win. It would be a win sweeter than the Skor-Decam Invite win I had a few weeks before in Helena. I wanted the win.
The gun goes off and the race begins. I was in fouth place at the end of the first lap. The others had a split time of 57 or 58 and I had a split of 59 seconds. I got focused on the group ahead of me. All I concentrated on were their backs. I make my shifts. I tuck in behind the group to draft for just a few seconds, then I make another shift. I pass the group, and feel them trying to stay on me. As we go onto the last curve, I make more shifts. The top seed is still with me. It comes down to the last hundred meters. It comes down to a sprint, or as fast we can go at this point of the race. I hear the crowd. I hear some chearing for me. Some are chearing for him. That just makes me want to go faster. In the last 20 or 30 meters, I was able to find one more gear, and was able to win.
2:00.69. A new personal record. A winning time. One of the fastest times in the state. It is the third fastest time in the AA Division. It got me to State.
Next week is the State meet. I am seeded number three. Only one person in the division has broken two minutes. I know I can catch him. I want to win.
Run fast.
~Bredelman, OUT
Sweat is dripping from my forehead and drenches my jersey. I feel the wind on the back stretch of the track. Only three-and-a-half laps left.
I’m sitting in fifth place, but slowly closing on the fourth place guy. He’s a teammate, but he is dropping back, and I have to pick up his slack. With only two laps left, I make a small shift. I pick up speed, and gain on my teammate quicker. The bell sounds as the leaders head onto their last lap. I go onto the last lap feeling good, and I quickly pass my teammate and head into fourth. In this meet, fourth place earns points. I kick in the last 350 meters and I easily come in fourth, not too far away from third. My time: 11:18.
This is the 3200 meter race. 8 laps. Just about two miles. This is not my favorite race. It is slow and boring. You get lost in those 8 laps, unless you are competing for the win. I don’t. I get lost. My mind wonders. I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus on what I need to do. This is the first time I have ran the 3200 since the beginning of the track season of my sophomore year. I used to be decent at it. My PR is 10:22, but, like I said, that was a couple years ago, back when the 3200 was one of my focuses. I have never really liked the race, I just ran it. I tried it out again just to get some mileage in.
This race 75% mental and 25% physical. Without the endurance, one would die. Without the mentality, one would lose their mind. If you have the physical ability and the competition, it becomes a race of strategy. The 800, my best event, there is not enough time to strategize. The 1600, another one of my better events, strategies consist of drafting, and that’s about it. The 3200 has teammates drafting off of one another and making shifts in pace. Surging is used often. 10 minutes gives a runner enough time to use some of the most extravagant strategies. That was never one of my fortes. The two mile is not my forte.
A 5K on the street is fun. 8 laps on a track is torture. I can’t imagine a 10K on a track.
~Bredelman, OUT
As I walk behind the bleachers to go to the bathroom, I see a banner hanging from the seats saying “Home of the Hawks”. Skyview is at Bozeman for our first AA track meet of the season. When I see that banner, I can’t stop from thinking “Property of the Falcons”. Bozeman won the state championship for cross country, and everyone knows they have some studs on the distance side. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to win. It’s a beautiful day for a race, and there is only a slight breeze. It’s nothing compared to our home track.
Skyview boys go on to win the meet, 90-58. I earned 8 of our points by myself. I placed second in the 1600 with a 4:50. In the 800, I got a 2:05, and that was enough to win it. I anchored for the 4×400 relay team, and we won the relay.
We all competed hard, but it is bothersome to me that Bozeman didn’t have their studs out. From what I’ve heard, though, they aren’t as prepared as I make them out to be, and that is a good thing. I guess I will find out on Saturday at the Billings Invite.
The first track meet for Skyview, against Great Falls and Helena Capital in Great Falls, was cancelled due to poor weather. We were lucky enough to get another meet together with Laurel at Skyview on Tuesday.
The first meet of the season sets the tone for the athletes. They know, after the first meet, whether they need to work harder or if they are ready to compete. It gets the competitive juices flowing and rookies can see what a race looks, and feels, like. The first meet can make rookies the most nervous, but that is good for them.
The first meet gives the coaches and other schools a feel for how much talent is on the team. Runners get a feel for race pace, work on strategy, and feel the effects of adrenaline. Sprinters get a feel for the blocks and gun when there is adrenaline. Jumpers feel the real bar when they hit it. Throwers get to go through the whole motion of their throw. The new fans can see what a track meet is like and the experienced fans can compare the new season to ones of the past.
All in all, the first meet is crucial. It is nothing compared to the end of the season, but it can set, or destroy, the tone of the new season and the confidence of the athletes. A good first meet is the sign of a good season, if the athletes stay healthy. Athletes can find the flaws of their battle plans, or they can experiment with different ones.
Here’s to a new, and last, track season for me.
Go hard. From start to finish.
~Bredelman, OUT
Just a couple weeks ago, I was finding it extremely hard to find the motivation for track. I no longer have that problem.
The team started practice this past week, and all of a sudden, the motivation I had after cross country is back, and it is getting better and better everyday. Today, I got some new shoes and spikes. My shoes are Brooks Addiction, a shoe I have been wearing for a few seasons. The spikes are Brooks Z3 Distance spikes. They are the lightest shoes I have ever had and they fit my foot very well. I have full confidence that these shoes will carry me to a sub-2 minute 800, a 4:30 mile, and state.
It is amazing what can happen in just a couple days.
There is no price for success
~Bredelman, OUT
About a month ago, I posted a blog talking about how much love and girls absolutely suck and that I was about to give up on love. It is absolutely amazing how one person can change your perspective, and make you want to be so vulnerable. It is absolutely amazing how fast it can happen.
I recently met this particular girl, who is probably THE cutest girl I have ever seen. She is a freshman, and that is a major down side. Over the past couple days, we’ve hung out a lot. We have so much in common. I really feel like there is a connection.
But a freshman? I’m a senior! I’m an adult! I know she is probably not mature enough for a relationship. I’m going to be graduating soon, and I really doubt any contact would remain between us. I have tried the long distance thing two times too many. I do not want to find my self in another one. But then again, I’m always telling people to go for it. To live life to the fullest. To have fun with the short amount of time you have on this earth. If I don’t go after her, then I contradict things that I strongly believe in.
I’m just a little confused at the moment. I feel a connection, but I’m not sure if I can conclude to anything. I think she may like me, but I’m not sure, as usual. The only thing I know is that she is extremely cute and a very fun person to be around. Another bonus is she is shorter than me. That doesn’t happen often to me, here in Montana.
I’m just spilling my thoughts out for the world to view.
~Bredelman, OUT
I sat there reading. It was rather relaxing. You wouldn’t expect that type of mood at a hospital, but this Billings, MT, a small city that refuses to be normal. I’m not here for myself. My sister is here, and I went along. I stop by the cafeteria and get a bottle of Mountain Dew, thinking that it will keep me awake. On my way back to where I was, I found this pond-type thing in the hospital. There are some trout and a waterfall. The sound of rushing water has always had a way of making me relax. Next to it, but not out of earshot of the falling water, is a little room with a love seat and a couple of nice chairs. It looks a lot like a cabin room, complete with lamps, western pictures, a fireplace, and a chandelier made out of dear antlers. I sit on the sofa, turn on one of the lamps, open my book, and read. I fall out of my relaxed trance when I get a phone call. My sister is fine, and my mom and her are leaving. A couple of hours have passed and my Mountain Dew is empty. I close my book, and with one last look at the room, I walk away, and listen to the water’s noise fade away.
Such a nice place to be right now…
~Bredelman, OUT
