Content Nausea No. 112: Adrenaline Nightshift
Hitchhiked to hell and back riding the wind / Waiting for a generation's bonfire to begin
Welcome to the 112th edition of Content Nausea. You can read No. 111 right here. Please let me know what you think. Thank you for being here. Here is the welcome blog.
I’ve had one of my favorite sports photos of all-time easily accessible to me for more than 16 years. In June 2008, Thomas Boyd of The Oregonian captured Nick Symmonds crossing the finish line at Hayward Field while flexing his biceps as the 800-meter at the U.S. Olympic Trials. Andrew Wheating is just out of focus to the left with his mouth open in disbelief with the enormous Oregon “O” on the chest of his bright yellow singlet. To the right of Symmonds, even further out of focus, is Christian Smith diving across the line. Lopez Lomong is in between Symmonds and Wheating, lunging for the line but finishing fifth. Khadevis Robinson, the fourth-place finisher, is blocked out by Symmonds as he goes to the ground next to Smith.
I don’t remember the first time I saw that photo. I don’t even really remember the first time I watched the race. It happened June 30. I remember Chris posting about it on MySpace a couple days later. I probably watched it a little after that. But I was immediately taken with it — the decisiveness of Symmonds’ kick; Wheating seemingly coming out of nowhere, surprising everyone, including himself; and Smith putting everything on the line to get to Beijing.
When you’re 16, that kind of thing can make an impression on you, and I tried to channel that into my mediocre running career that fall. At some point, I found Boyd’s photo, and got it printed — along with photos from Hayward Field and Pre’s Rock from a trip to Eugene, Ore., that summer, where I saw Symmonds and Wheating run tune-up races for the Olympics — and taped it in my locker at school. I kept it in there senior year, and then various copies have followed me to College Park, Orange County, Baltimore, Philadelphia and now State College. It’s on the bulletin board above my desk, next to my high school letter. I try to use it as inspiration sometimes. You can make things happen.
I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to find a photo that would match it. There have been other good sports photos that have captured my attention, and I also feel like I am too old take inspiration from these types of things. But there is something about studying a moment of grand achievement where someone is at their absolute peak. It’s an engaging thought exercise. And I’ve got a new photo for it.
The men’s 1500-meter Olympic final Tuesday was the best race I have seen in so long. I’m not a day-to-day track fan. I check in for World Championships, the Olympics, the Prefontaine Classic if I come across it on television. I try to keep up in passing. So I’m not well-versed, but this was a classic:
And I currently have a multiple unnamed image wire services open to look for a photo to join Symmonds, Wheating and Smith on my bulletin board.
It is a rejuvenating experience to see something that you feel you have never seen before and could never see again. That’s what I felt like watching Cole Hocker run down Jakob Ingebritsen and Josh Kerr in the final 150 meters in Paris for the gold medal. I remember watching Matthew Centrowitz win gold in the 1500 in Rio in 2016. I watched that race on my phone at Bartender’s in Baltimore because they wouldn’t put the Olympics on the TV. That race didn’t have the same juice as this one.
The Ingebritsen-Kerr rivalry certainly amped this one up. The crowd in Paris knew what was at stake, too, and it comes through on the television broadcast. But watching Hocker, bronze medalist Yared Nuguse and fifth-place finisher Hobbs Kessler refuse to blink, refuse to fold and refuse to wilt was captivating television. There is something about man vs. man vs. nature vs. limits. It’s beautiful.
I haven’t picked which photo will head to the bulletin board. There are plenty to choose from, and whichever one gets the nod will be another reminder of what we’re capable of accomplishing. It might not resonate the same at 32 as it did at 16, but it’s nice to be reminded.
Thank you for reading the 112th edition of Content Nausea. It will get better. Thank you, and see you soon.
Hurricane home to crusade alone
Wounded and thin
Still waiting for a generation's bonfire to begin
When I muscle up some money
I'll rattle the sabre of the streets
Cause death got no respect for love
And youth no respect for me
—D.G.