Now, I need to explain something. I am not the most coordinated person ever. Some might go as far as calling me "klutzy". In fact, most people that have spent any amount of time with me would probably say that, and qualify it with something like, "klutzy would be an understatement". So, running in circles on a track was pretty much it for me. Asking anything additional was bound to be a challenge. So it kind of blew my mind when my coach came up to me one day and asked if I was interested in trying pole vault.
When you think of the typical track athlete (throwers notwithstanding) you generally think small to medium build, strong, powerful, relatively graceful and physically self-aware. I'm not really any of those things. By the time I got to my junior year of high school, I was 6'2", about 185lbs, and fairly (very) gangly. Definitely not built like a typical runner. Cross country was particularly challenging...there were many training runs and races alike that found me ass-over-elbows in the woods due to a particularly sly tree root or rock.
We started dragging out all the pole vaulting equipment and, lo and behold, found out that we didn't have a pole rated high enough for my weight. There were two, I think both were rated at about 160-165lb max. No problem, my coach said, you won't be bending the pole to jump any time soon, so this will do for a while. Ok, no problem, said I. I was very trusting.
Oh, and one thing I forgot to mention...my coach had never really coached a pole vaulter before either, so while I was walking around, tripping over my own feet while carrying this twelve foot fiberglass stick, he was reading a book next to the runway trying to figure out how he was going to teach me to manage this feat, hopefully without injurying myself, him, or the other athletes or judges. Meanwhile, the first pole I tried, actually broke. Here I am, careening down the runway with this stick waving around in the air, I barely plant it in the box and make a jump, and the thing snaps about a foot from the bottom. Luckily I was almost straight up when it broke, so I dropped down about a foot but continued onto the mat. In retrospect, I'm surprised I didn't manage to impale myself with either/both parts of the pole.
The first few weeks were uneventful. I was strong and tall enough to kind of muscle my way through without utilizing any conventional form or grace. I'm sure it was ugly, but I think I even managed to place in a few meets. Then one day in practice, working on my (non-existent) form, I got into this habit of getting about straight up in the air on the pole, then kind of falling off to the side. I was still barely making it over the bar, so I didn't worry too much about it and figured it would sort itself out. Even if I had wanted to correct it, I don't think anyone knew enough to tell me how.
Then one day, we had a home meet after school. During most meets I was in running events too so I would be running back and forth between vaulting and the track for different events. I had gotten a few heights at pole vault, but it was coming up time for starting the 800m race. I had time for one more jump. I got on the runway, took a few breaths, and off I went. Well, I went up straight and came down sideways. *Really* sideways. As I reached the peak of the jump, I kind of stalled out and started falling off to the right. Well, my body, from the waist down, landed on the pole vault mat. The upper half of my body continued downward since there was no mat under it. My fall was broken when the back of my head stopped the rest of my body by meeting the pavement under and around the pole vault mats with a solid crack.
At this point, I didn't quite feel the pain yet. I tried to get up, but all I remember is feeling suddenly really sleepy. I heard my coach running over asking me if I was alright, and how many fingers was he holding up. I told him I didn't know, which was alarming at first, until I realized I hadn't opened my eyes. I opened them, but I still couldn't answer the question because instead of holding two or three fingers up in a calm manner, he was waving his hand around frantically in front of my face, like he was waving off a rabid bee or something. I made another attempt at standing, and this time mostly succeeded. Coach's next question - can you walk in a straight line? I thought I could..I took a few shaky steps and said, yes, I can walk. His response - good - now walk in a straight line towards the starting line because the 800m is about to start.
I was still pretty hazy at that point so I just started jogging toward the line, probably more out of routine than anything. I know at this point I started feeling a creeping pain developing in the back of my head and neck, and had a nice egg back there. I toed up to the line, the starters gun cracked, and off we went.
Now, this was a pretty small dual meet. I was one of the top seeds in the conference at 800m, so I didn't really feel like I was going to have much competition. I took off in front, leading the pack through the first 400m or so. About then is where things started getting weird. It felt like I had to run faster and faster just to maintain pace. I felt like I was at an all-out sprint when people started passing me. Just zip-zip-zip as everyone just ran around me. Simultaneously, the earth started tipping wildly off to the right. After the fact, I realized this was because not only was I slowing down, but I was also leaning waaaaaaay to far into the curve. Enough that I sort of ran off the inside of the curve, onto the infeild and just collapsed. My feet stopped working before I had actually stopped so instead of just dropping, I took a headlong dive into the grass and tumbled over toward the high jump pit.
There is still a bit there that I don't remember, some of that was pieced together from what people told me happened. I remember drifting off the track, then the next thing is I was sitting in the grass surrounded by coaches. I was crying because I had dropped out of the race, which was a cardinal sin of sorts, in my mind anyway. I just sat there for a good 10-15 minutes until I was cognizant enough to get up and walk, at which point I was taken directly to the doctor. Turns out the impact of my head on the ground left me with a concussion, which just kind of screwed over any chance of my body working right for the rest of that day.
My coach told me after the fact, "my only thought when you fell off the track was, 'oh man...i just killed him. I killed one of my athletes'". Luckily, as far as I can tell, there was no lasting damage (although, how could I be sure...), but I stayed away from pole vault after that.
Amazingly, it was *after* this incident that they asked me to try out javelin. Can you say, glutton for punishment...
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