My running career today is not how I imagined it. Just as each race run, plays out differently than it was visualized. As a high school runner, my dreams were filled with Prefontaine or Virenesque races, cheering fans and girls ogling me to the point of awkwardness. I foresaw national championships, US records and lucrative contracts. There were commercials, endorsements and confidence. This is not my life.

After a successful high school running career I was on due course to the aforementioned. I started the next segment of this journey at the University of Arkansas, an oasis for collegiate distance runners. I was suddenly submerged into a system of shock and awe. I was a pawn on the chessboard. I was running next to champions, Olympians and athletes with years of experience under their belts. In high school I ran about 30 miles a week. Most of it was at a swift pace. Now I was running faster, longer and every day; it was breaking me down. At Arkansas, everything was run fast… really fast. Our weekly long run was 12.5 miles to “The Bridge.” Most ran this between 67 minutes and 74 minutes. My best time was 62 minutes. Hard runs were followed by workouts and races and more hard fast runs… but hey, if the great runners before me did this, than so should I.

I wish I could tell you I had the wits to question some of the training I was completing, however my coach (John McDonnell) had won more national championships than God, and I wasn’t yet enough man to question his agenda.

Many of you would not believe some of the workouts I took part in. I vividly remember one of my first track workouts freshman year. At the time, my mile PB was 4:12. We warmed up at the Tyson Indoor Track and waited to hear the workout from Coach Mcdonnell. He articulated that we were to do a ladder, “1 mile down” he said in his wispy Irish accent. (This meant 1 mile, 1200 meters, 800 meters, 600 meters, 400 meters and 200 meters, run at progressive paces.) I watched curiously as my elder teammates started to squirm. I wondered. “What could make these guys so uncomfortable?”
Coach Mac continued to read our projected splits, “4:10, 3:06, 2:04, 1:31, :58 and :27.”
I now began to squirm as well.

My college years went by in a blur of booze and bad races. I did not progress the way I should have. I either trained too hard or too little. I didn’t care enough, or I cared too much. Maybe I had accepted getting beat in practice, and that translated all too easy to race day. However, I continued to have workouts and occasional races that showed a glimpse of my true ability. I may not have outstanding track times, but I am sure I am now on course to becoming the great runner I know I can be. I know my best attributes as a runner, will probably come to fruition in the marathon.

This hasn’t been the career I dreamed about… yet. I have learned so much from my failures and near successes, and I know the best is yet to come as long as I have patience and persistence.
Not every domino will sit perfectly straight, but as long as it knocks down the subsequent piece the dream will stay on track.

Recently, when not running with my Team Rogue Elite cohorts, I have been training alone. I have been enjoying the solitude. I feel that as a distance runner, it is vital to be alone in certain aspects of training. I have been able to fall in love with running and truly enjoy it. It is nice to know I am not training and racing for the wrong reasons. I race, knowing I truly have a passion for running.

My girlfriend Casey Jo Magee, recently moved to Michigan to pursue her Olympic dream. She is an International Elite Gymnast and took an offer to train and coach at Western Michigan University. This was an essential move for her development, and although it is difficult to be away from her, we see that it is necessary at least for now. When we started dating we agreed to not let our relationship get in the way of our dreams. We are both making tremendous strides towards fulfilling our aspirations.

In a weeks time I will run in the USA Olympic Marathon Trials, and there is only one certainty, I will cherish every agonizing stride of that 26.2 mile race. I will enjoy the journey and relish in it’s culmination.

Epilogue:
Years ago, upon a trip home to visit my parents I found a generous ration of scotch hoarded on a shelf. I inquired as to what they were doing with this rare store of fancy looking whiskey? They informed me that a friend of the family had given it to them, and they opt for bourbon rather than it’s relative from across the pond. They said I was welcome to take it.
I am usually a wine drinker, but… I took 2 bottles, and consumed a hefty portion of one bottle with a good buddy. He called me the next day to inform me the bottle we had abolished was worth 2 to 3 hundred dollars. Upon further review of the other bottle I learned it’s worth at about $400.
This was a drink I should save for a celebration. On January 15th, Ryan Fenton, among others, and myself will snap open this seal and swill this succulent stash! After months of preparation and sacrifice where I have abstained from the seductive qualities of life’s adult indulgences, I look forward to partaking in a parch quenching evening of nonsensical fun with good buddies. It will be a celebration worth entertaining.

Until next time,
Scotty Mac

Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson


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