Track and Field: Tear the Doors Down...We're Going Outside!

Consider the bear.

At some obscure late-winter moment in time, he throws off the blankets of hibernation, stretches and yawns, then exits his cave. The brisk February air brutally, but quickly, completes the waking process, and the bear heads directly into the elements to begin the adventure of doing what bears do.

In track and field, we’re a little more civilized—and a little less appropriately dressed.

We go from the cave to a barn.

We graciously endure the too-tight turns, the recycled air, the sardine-can confinement. We quietly concede to the padded braking wall, the Barnum and Bailey Big Top atmosphere and the horrible acoustics of the blaring PA system.

With subdued resistance, we accept the artificial lighting and the motionless flag.

I suppose it’s a matter of necessity (or convenience?) for humans to prolong the transition from inactivity to full-blown performance—both for the athlete and for the fan’s sake.

I do see the prudence in having a sheltered practice area—especially in the Northwest or say, Minnesota.

But I think a bit of the bear abides in me. I can’t deny the impulse to take the plunge from a long winter’s nap right into the face of the great outdoors.

There were many notable indoor achievements this year - and any track meet is better than no track meet - but the idea of such primal athletic endeavors as running, jumping and throwing being played out under a roof just doesn’t quite get it done for me.

I want to see sunburned shoulders and wind-blown hair. I want to see javelins soar. I want to check the wind gauge readings.

I want to hear the sound of airplanes and sirens in the distance. I want to smell the aroma of brewing coffee and fresh-cut turf.

I can handle a few puddles on the track and spike-bloodied knees. Just give me a refreshing backstretch headwind or let me watch the 4x400 finale in the lengthening shadows of sundown.

And what is outdoor track without team tents and sunglasses?

The track and field community has a collective case of cabin fever and it has just about run its course in the northern hemisphere. Track fans and athletes alike are to the point of breaking down the cabin door.

The wide-open spaces are beckoning. Track and field will once again become what it was really meant to be—an outdoor spectacle.

I’ll be taking in a meet this weekend at Hayward Field (Oregon preview). Cobwebs and rust will dissipate like so much dust in the wind.

And somewhere up on the timbered slopes of the Siskiyou Mountains, a pesky bruin will be giving me a hearty fist pump.

Yeah...!