It’s hard to write about track and field without quoting Steve Prefontaine, the Olympian who, regrettably, is now known more for his eccentric personality and the inspirational words attributed to him than for his on-track accomplishments. “Pre” said: “You have to wonder at times what you’re doing out there. Over the years, I’ve given myself 1000 reasons to keep running, but it always comes back to where it started. It comes down to self-satisfaction and a sense of achievement.”

Track is hardly a glamorous sport. We don’t have the fan-base of more mainstream sports, and since the ‘70s—the Golden Age of track and field in this country—track has become something of a niche sport. Many people come to Yale having run track in high school, but few venture out to Coxe Cage to watch a meet unless it’s to support their friends and roommates.

I’m a senior, which means this will likely be my last year running competitively. It has been eight years now. I ran for Staples High School in a town about 30 minutes away from New Haven. I can remember coming here as a high-schooler to run in the Yale Invitational. That meet was always held in Coxe Cage, a building that, despite its dilapidated exterior, possesses a charm of its own. Training and racing at the Cage reminds me of how far I’ve come, from the scrawny high-schooler with terrible running form who was intimidated by the steeply banked turns.

Training for our sport is inherently repetitive—we run around in circles; jump into sand pits; and launch heavy objects into the air. At least that is how it must seem to an outside observer. In reality we strain ourselves to exhaustion in workouts. It’s not just getting out there and running—drills to improve technique, interval training in which we do repeats of a given distance with a minimal break in between. Because of this, workouts can often be more demanding on a runner in terms of energy expended than a meet. One aspect of the sport that I feel is often under-appreciated, even among participants, is the mental focus it takes to succeed.

The mental aspect of track is perhaps best illustrated by the pole vault, an event that requires an athlete to sprint full speed down a runway, then plant a pole two-and-a-half times taller than himself into the ground, converting his kinetic energy into potential energy stored in the pole. He launches himself into the air, using his core to swing his body into a vertical position, at which point the pole begins to recoil, propelling the vaulter skyward. At 16 feet, the vaulter has to have the body awareness to turn 180 degrees as he clears the standard, falling from that height onto his back. He has to coordinate all of these movements and positions, executing them in sequence with the utmost precision. This requires intense focus through each phase of his vault, for every approach down the runway, be it in practice or in a meet.

Even the less technically demanding events require a similar degree of focus. The 400 meters is one of the most difficult races on the track, requiring the athlete to maintain a near full-out sprint over a quarter mile. It hurts, as any race does, and to overcome that pain you have to embrace it, you have to crave it. Knowing the limitations of your body is crucial; the goal is to bring yourself as close to the edge as possible. The very best athletes will come to see their bodies as tools, honed through training for a very specialized task.

This year’s team is much smaller than in the past, but this does not necessarily preclude us from doing well at the Heptagonals (the Ivy League championship meet), where small teams with strong upfront performers can still place high. And we’re lucky to have such performers—in fact, almost every man on our team is capable of scoring points at the league championship. Cornell and Princeton are perennial favorites, with massive teams and better access to the top recruits, but the rest of the meet is wide open, and we hope to be in contention three weeks from now for the Indoor Heps.

Track and field, in its essence, has never been about records, though; it’s always been first and foremost about competing. This is something my coach is constantly reminding us of. Like Pre, I sometimes wonder why I’ve stuck with it after so many years and myriad injuries and let-downs. This is a humbling sport, which brings an equal measure of glory and disappointment, even for the greatest champions.

Remi Ray is a senior in Morse College and a sprinter on the Men’s Track Team