By Scott A. Brinton
I was mowing my backyard lawn in Merrick last Saturday when I was suddenly struck by the strange sensation that I had missed the bus to my race — that I should, at the moment, have been running a 5K or a 10K at a frantic pace instead of plodding along, mower in hand.
The temperature was a perfect 72 degrees, with no wind. Sunshine streamed down. The leaves on the trees were half-brown and turning crisp. Fall was clearly in the air.
Year after year, from my early adolescence to my young adulthood, I ran cross-country every fall, from middle school through college, missing only two seasons in high school. I was conditioned to gear up for the racing season as September neared an end. When the fall air and the angle of the sun in the sky turned just so, I had to be ready to run — hard.
The nervous anticipation I felt as the racing season approached was embedded in my brain, and every now and again it pops up, even now, more than three decades later. Such was the case on Saturday.
That got me thinking about how screwy the past 18 months must have been for our young athletes, how all of the coronavirus delays and cancellations in their sports seasons must have messed with their heads, whether they were elementary-age kids a few years into athletics or college competitors. When you’ve participated for years in a sport, there is an intuitive sense you feel for its up-and-down rhythms and well-timed rituals.
To continue reading, click here.
