When I was in eighth grade, I ran track for my junior high school. Our coach wasn't that great of a coach. He taught physical education class and receiving a thousand dollars for coaching track seemed worth an extra hour a day of hanging out at school. He rambled for a while and then he would say go run one to three times around the school. I averaged about one to three miles of running a day four days a week.
I did make a running goal and it was to obtain the eighth grade mile record set five years earlier by Andy Lawrence. Andy ran a 5:08.36. I lined up on the start line at one of the track meets and I ran as hard as I could. I have no idea what my splits were per 400. I had no idea what my heart rate was as in the late 1970's, the only way to monitor a heart beat was in a hospital. I just ran, and I ran as hard as I could paying no attention to pace. I crossed the finish line and subsequently went to the infield of the track where I fittingly started throwing up. I looked up amidst heaving to notice several of the high school track athletes looking at me. They were volunteers for the track meet and they were amused at this spectacle. I didn't back down looking at them in between heaves. I had just run a 5:06.3. I had something they couldn't get, the record.