On my first trip to Texas Relays, I watched a teammate run in the finals of the University Women's 400m hurdles. Lisa Owens was the only white girl in the race and, at 5'4" was the shortest. I remember she got 5th but as soon as the race was over, she walked to the infield, pulled her long blond hair to one side and threw up into a drain on the field. I told her later that I had wanted to go down there with some water, but couldn't cross the track. She replied in that honey-sweet southern accent, "oh that's alright. I always throw up."
On my second trip to Texas Relays, we were scheduled to run the University Distance Medley Relay. It was hot, so we stayed under the stadium as long as possible. There's some debate about who was misinformed, but I remember Coach Groll telling Greg and me that the meet was 20 minutes behind schedule, so we should avoid going down to the track too soon. In any case, as we were walking down the steps to the track, the gun for our race went off. We had missed it. Doug Glover said he had thought about running the first leg anyway and see if anyone else showed up. As I stood there watching them finish the first lap, I looked over and saw the Martin twins from New Orleans in the stands. I sat with them and, maybe because of the mixed emotions of pre-race anxiety and shame, I started crying. Suddenly, Greg came to find me and told me that Coach Groseclose wanted to see me. Grose told me in that raspy drawl of his, "the meet director's a personal friend of mine and I've got you into the invitational mile. I told him you wouldn't let us down. So, you're with the big boys now - but you're one of them." I did OK, but had been warming up for almost 2 hours and had lost most of my kick. I finished 5th in 4:04.
On my third trip to Texas Relays, I learned one of the most valuable lessons of my life. I was anchoring the Distance Medley Relay, which meant I had to wait for the 1200, 400, and 800 meter legs to finish. During the time we were milling around waiting to run, I had a chance to size up the competition. Running for Arkansas was Doug Consiglio, who had won NCAA 1500 indoors that year. Running for Rice was Gawain Guy, who was on the Jamacain Olympic team the year before for 1500m. Running for Stanford was Jeff Atkinson, who would end up winning the U.S. Olympic Trials in the 1500m in 1988. I managed to convince myself that there was no way I could beat these three. None of the others I recognized. Sure enough, we got 4th place. Well, actually, we got 3rd place because Arkansas got disqualified for a lane violation, but those three were the only ones to finish ahead of me. The lesson was this: if you believe you can't do something, your brain will work to prove you right.
Warming down after that race, I caught up with Atkinson on the side track that used to be there. He was warming down, too, so we had at least something to talk about. As we were running along, his teammate Ceci Hopp came bounding up. Ceci was the beauty darling of the running world (Lauri Young had the same distinction in the high jump and the heptathlon).
On my last trip to Texas Relays, I ran, among other things, the 1500m and got out-kicked by perhaps the ugliest dude in track. I won't say where he was from (German Fernandez goes there) - this guy had a head too big for his distrance runner's body, had white white skin but really bad acne on his face, back, and head. You knew he had it on his head because he had a wide mohawk. Whew.
