It’s Heps weekend, which is definitely go-time for the most competitive of Ivy tracksters. Prior to Heptagonal Championships in cross country as well as both track seasons at Columbia, the team mentality seemed to be most re-instilled in all of us athletes, whether we were lucky enough to be able to compete. I remember watching heart-wrenching performances in the spring of my senior year. As I sat next to a stellar, but injured, teammate who should’ve been out there contending for Heps titles, I was dying to hop over U. Penn’s brick walls and onto the track to get some points. True, I wanted to be out there just because I wanted to be out there, but I also wanted to be out there because I wanted to help out my team.

Team-oriented environments seem to bring out the best in people – or at the least induce some degree of faith, pride and/or trust people might be hard-pressed to find in themselves as individuals. This is why my perspective as a currently whiney post-collegiate runner is rendered nostalgic. I love that spirit exuded by teammates in championship season; its sparks are tangible as they electrify performances.

My appreciation for the opportunities presented by the likes of Team XO, then, makes sense in consideration of any craving for team-ness. However detached I might geographically be from the majority of XO’s conglomerated athletes, my adoration for their endeavors transverses our OR. And this is a dang good, inspiring thing when I’m feeling bummed about not having yet raced this season, be it for myself or for a team – which is not to say I’m experiencing a dearth of inspiration.

That considered, and recreational joggers - it might be a soft J - disregarded, I’m delighted by those who currently strive to better times on the tracks and roads which criss-cross our communities. Running post-collegiately unquestionably offers a different type of team environment than sanctioned high school or college competition. Post-collegiate competition casts a wide net. Surprisingly, I feel this net draws atomized runners together. Nary a runner, however sold on the loneliness principle, denies the small-world-ness of our sport.

Take, for example, the US Olympic marathon Trials in Boston. Although I’ve wondered about the relatively watered down qualifying time when compared to track standards, this event is remarkable. Qualifying to compete three weekends ago on the old eastern port town’s spectator friendly, loopy course was no easy task for those brave souls who did just that. Running the marathon trials was an opportunity made possible, even accessible, by countless women, including those who ran before for those who will run in days to come.

Watching that race, I felt the marathon – undisputedly emblematic of long distance running – was possible, even accessible. I witnessed some of their stories; I heard some of their tales. I got to reflect on performances which somehow seemed to be electrified by tangible sparks.