The Trials of the Course

The force of nature is something that cannot be compared to any other force on this earth. Nature is not simply a collection of things such as trees and grass, it is an entity with characteristics all of its own. In fact, nature is sometimes referred to by humans as “Mother Nature,” thereby suggesting the humanistic qualities that nature tends to have. Personifying nature becomes simple because, like people, it teaches us lessons. In my experiences of nature, I have learned many lessons. I have also experienced some of natures other humanistic qualities; I have found, for example, that nature can be unforgiving, generous, surprising, and a whole other range of things. A large portion of my hometown, South Park, as perhaps can be presumed from the name, is a park. Therefore, I have been able to experience nature quite often within my small town. As a runner, I often explore many of these places. Some of my most unique experiences in nature have been on the cross country course used by South Park High School. Running on this cross country course, I learned many lessons about both nature and myself, and I experienced the various characteristics of Mother Nature, such as its toughness and its independence.

My experiences on the cross country course showed me how small I was compared to nature, and how nature acted independently of anything I wished for. Unlike many other high schools’ cross country courses, South Park’s course is actually a part of nature. Located deep within the woods behind the South Park Fairgrounds and “The Oval,” the course might be hard to find if one was not made aware of it. At the commencement of each cross country season, the cross country team held the responsibility of cleaning up the course. Since it was located in the woods, the running path was often overgrown with weeds and blocked by recently fallen trees. The team marched into the woods, armored with weed-whackers, hedge clippers, and other such tools, and cleared the course so that it was capable to race on. This task was always sort of a pain. Why couldn’t the course just stay clear? Why, year after year, did all of our hard work just disappear, only to have to be repeated again the next year? The answers to these questions that I asked myself became more and more clear the more time I spent on the course. The answer was, simply, that nature didn’t really care. Nature also didn’t care if it decided to pour down rain on the day of a race. Nature just wanted to take care of itself and grow and prosper; it did not care about humans and where or when they wanted to run. Through experiences at the cross country course, I found that nature will act according to its own wants and needs; not according to those of anyone or anything else.

Through my experiences, I also found that nature was tough and unforgiving. In a way, this was a further extension of my discovery of the enormity of nature and its will. In regards to the course itself, it was mutually agreed upon by runners in our section that our course was one of the more difficult ones to race on. The fact that it was our home course could be looked at as advantageous to my team, since even though it was a difficult course, at least we got to practice on it. All the runners, from both my team and the teams we were running against, feared “The Hill.” Located about one mile into the course in the middle of the woods, this dirt hill seemingly rose out of nowhere. It was incredibly steep; runners often used not just their feet but their hands in order to climb up it, grabbing the roots of trees to pull them along. Almost no one actually wanted to run up it; in fact, it often was believed to be a smart strategy to walk up it instead of wasting all of your energy trying to run up it. However, the South Park coaches did not believe that walking won races. Every meet, one of our coaches would stand at the top of the hill with a video camera and film everybody running up the hill, making walking not an option. Of course, at the end of the year the team would get a good laugh when we watched these videos and saw all of our opponents walking while we were running. Running up that hill was one of the hardest things I had to do during my career as a runner, but it made me stronger. Nature was sending a clear message that it did not want to be easily conquered. Nature is tough, and so it treats those involved with it as so. No matter what kinds of aches and pains a runner had the day of the race, he or she still had to run up that hill. Nature is unforgiving. My experiences in nature at the cross country course helped make me become more aware of the tough and unforgiving temperament of nature.

While running at our cross country course, nature taught me many life lessons. Aforementioned, interacting with the forces of nature made me stronger. Whether I was up against horrible weather or just the difficulty of the course itself, I always had to battle to make it through the race. I knew that I could never give up; it was as if during a race nature and I were at war. At the same time, running on the course made me want to make peace with nature because it made me more appreciative of it. I experienced the beauty of nature and came to respect it for its historical ties and unending survival. Admittedly, I was never really a huge fan of cross country, but the many lessons I learned from my experiences in nature were incredibly valuable. I gained a lot of physical strength from cross country, but I gained even more mental strength. Nature showed me how to be tough and how to beat the odds.

During my time on the South Park cross country team, I was surrounded by nature quite often. The course, located in the middle of the woods, was indeed a force of nature of its own. From my experiences there, I learned many things. I was able to truly realize that nature was so much bigger than I was, and that nature was tough and unforgiving. But more important than what I learned about nature was what I learned about myself. I learned that I could be tough, just like nature, and that I could endure much harsher conditions than I could have ever imagined. My experiences in nature while running on the cross country course have certainly advanced my way of thinking.

House of Huf

In a typical lifetime, a person discovers various places that are important to him or her. So far in my short lifetime, I have already found a number that have great significance. Almost no other place holds as much significance to me as does my high school track. Throughout my high school career, I spent countless hours and countless amounts of energy there. The track witnessed the evolution of my character, along with many of the best and worst moments of my life. I became very acquainted with it over the years; I can easily remember the various characteristics of it, down to even the smell of the rubber track on a hot, sunny day. Other tracks hold great value to me as well, such as the Baldwin High School track, the Southside Beaver track, and the Shippensburg University track. I have incredibly fond memories of all of these places. These places, however, and indeed any track anywhere, are inseparable from a person, my high school head track coach, Coach Hufnagel. His knowledge of the track, his passion for it, and the numerous similarities between the track and himself all contribute to the fusion of Coach Hufnagel and the track in my mind.

One reason that Coach Hufnagel has become forever intertwined in my mind with the track is because he is the man who taught me everything I know about track. When I first met him, Coach Hufnagel, known oftentimes as “Coach Huf” or, as I became even more familiar with him, just “Huf,” was a very intimidating character. He seemed like a pretty big guy to the skinny little freshman girl that I was. However, perhaps the most intimidating thing about him was the loudness of his voice. Coach Huf knew he could scream, and he wasn’t afraid to use this talent. I can still hear echoes of “Pump your arms!” whenever I’m running down a track. But while he was intimidating, he was also incredibly welcoming to all new members of the team and was always ready to help and teach. Before Coach Huf, I hadn’t the slightest clue how many laps around the track comprised an 800, let alone where the finish line was located. In fact, before I joined the team, I don’t think I had actually ever been on a track in my life. Without his help and guidance, I wouldn’t have been nearly as successful in my high school track career as I was. Not only did he teach me the facts of the sport, he taught me how to properly run! When I travel back to my old track, or even when I’m running on the track at W&J, I think of Coach Huf and all of the things he taught me.

Another reason why Coach Huf and the track seem intertwined is because of Huf’s passion for the track. I sometimes call myself a “track nerd,” and I certainly inherited that from him. Huf had run track in high school and was indeed a very talented sprinter, although one may find that hard to believe now judging by his bulky frame. He could run the 400 meter dash in under 50 seconds, which is very impressive for a high school athlete. Coach Huf carried his love for track into his career as a teacher and quickly became an assistant track coach, later ascending to the position of head coach. His passion for the sport was transmitted to the athletes he coached. No opposing team ever seemed to share the same passion for track as our team did. I finally had Huf as a teacher during my senior year for both sociology and psychology. However, I can’t recall ever calling him “Mr. Hufnagel.” It was always still Coach Huf or Huf. Class was often interrupted by track talk, and he used the subject of track for many of his examples in class. These instances were especially prominent during the spring semester, which was when track season began. Oftentimes, class time was used for strategizing for the upcoming meet. I’d even ice my legs during class in preparation for running later that day. While I, of course, had respect for him as a teacher, when I think back to high school now I never really think of him as my teacher; I think of him as my track coach. Because of his never-ending enthusiasm exhibited at the track, whenever I return there Coach Huf always comes to mind.

I associate both the track and Coach Hufnagel with many thoughts and emotions. One of these is intensity. For as long as I have known him, Coach Huf has been intense about everything he has done. From watching the 4x1 relay practice handoffs during a pre-meet practice to watching the 4x8 relay compete in the finals of the state championship meet, Coach Huf’s intensity never failed. Screaming at the top of his lungs as his face turned a bright shade of red, Huf made sure his athletes knew exactly what was on his mind and what he wanted out of them. The track itself is something that I associate with intensity. The workouts I experienced at my track are incomparable in intensity to any others I’ve ever partaken in. The races I participated in, not only at my home track, but at others, were some of the most intense moments of my life. Other emotions associated with both Huf and the track are nervousness and excitement. At important meets, Huf would get extremely nervous; we (the team) would know if it was a close meet if we saw him, as he put it, “running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” Additionally, no matter what meet it was, Huf was always exited and pumped up, and he did an excellent job of getting his athletes pumped up as well. I now associate these feelings with the track. Any time I enter a track, even for just a simple practice, these same feelings come back. I automatically get nervous yet excited for what’s to come because of my association of the track with Coach Huf and how he made myself and the team feel. Finally, both the track and Coach Huf taught me life lessons via tough love. Coach Hufnagel was always very tough on the team, but he cared about us like we were his own family. Every year he managed to make me cry, no matter how hard I tried not to, but he was trying to do what was best for me, and we always worked things out in the end. As for the track, it could be a pretty unforgiving place. It was a place of immeasurable amounts of blood, sweat, and tears. But at the same time, I learned so many lessons about myself while I was at the track. The track, like Coach Huf, helped me learn to be tough, to never give up, and that you have to love what you do. These characteristics and endless others can be attributed to both Coach Hufnagel and the track.

When I am at a track, Coach Hufnagel always comes to mind. I can picture his stocky body clothed in track gear, his bald head covered in sweat, and his black sunglasses shielding his eyes. I can hear his numerous sayings echoing down the track, such as, “Keep your head still,” “Get out,” “I’m gonna punch you in the face,” “Cheat now, cheat when you’re married” and “Winners have a purpose, losers only have an excuse!” just to name a few. Perhaps easiest of all, when I am running down a track or even just standing around stretching, I can hear him screaming my name, “Mosi!” to get my attention for some reason. I automatically think about Coach Hufnagel when I am at a track, especially the South Park High School track, because of the intertwinement of the two in my mind. My coach taught me everything I know about track, had an extreme passion for it, and is comparable to the track itself in so many ways. The track is his home. I am sure that for as long as live, when I think about a track, I will think about Coach Huf.

Photo taken by Brittany Mosi