<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921818873783149322</id><updated>2012-02-16T19:09:27.975-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Running Down A Dream</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Buti</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bRm1Lv-htck/TMsDQb0ljcI/AAAAAAAAABM/8Q85TpU-_B4/S220/family+pic+2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921818873783149322.post-1840050824532218520</id><published>2011-09-28T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T18:43:24.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SchoolTube - 112 Education Foundation Fun(d) Run</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://got.im/3FW6"&gt;SchoolTube - 112 Education Foundation Fun(d) Run&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://onlineraceresults.com/event/view_event.php?event_id=7312"&gt;Results&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7921818873783149322-1840050824532218520?l=hprunning.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/feeds/1840050824532218520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/09/schooltube-112-education-foundation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/1840050824532218520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/1840050824532218520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/09/schooltube-112-education-foundation.html' title='SchoolTube - 112 Education Foundation Fun(d) Run'/><author><name>Buti</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bRm1Lv-htck/TMsDQb0ljcI/AAAAAAAAABM/8Q85TpU-_B4/S220/family+pic+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921818873783149322.post-8472233918399780902</id><published>2011-06-21T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-21T18:06:14.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Chapter's End</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;By: Lucas Nudelman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Last year I hadn’t thought of losing the class of 2010 until very late in the season. I didn’t consider the fact that these people, who I spent hours with everyday, would soon be out of my life. I held these men in such high esteem and soon they would be spread far and wide as they went off to college. I made an error that I decided never to make again; I didn’t savor those last few weeks with these people I so adored.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; So the conference meet rolled around; this would be the last meet for a lot of the seniors. As I watched guys like captain Jake Hoffman and fellow senior Ethan Zallik do their cool down laps, I realized this was the end of an era. Reality sunk in that all the good times, from finishing tough workouts to going out to dinner after a meet, would soon just be fond memories. I saw a few guys jump in to take one last slow stroll around the oval with our elder teammates, and one of my biggest regrets is not jumping in as well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In retrospect I see things more clearly. The graduation of that class was very difficult, but life on the team goes on. After all, the team will always be the team. As the sign in the cage reads; “tradition never graduates”. That is exemplified in everyday life on the team. From routes named after alumni who no one on the current team is even familiar with, to things as big as the Twenty-Four Hour Run. The team is ever-evolving yet its always going to be the same. Although the aesthetics may be different from year to year, the core values will hardly change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This years seniors managed to surprise me. I thought that it would never be as hard to lose a group as it was my freshman year, yet this year has been as difficult if not more so. This year, when the season was winding down, I viewed every running experience as that last slow stroll around the oval. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake&amp;nbsp; two years in a row. I wasn’t going to be so naïve as to not realize what I was losing. Through everything though, at the end of this season, I felt again that the team wouldn’t recover, and it would never be as great as it was, without my graduated friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I’ll feel this emptiness I suppose until a new class resuscitates the team, breaths new life into my disheartened lungs, and relieves my melancholy; until a new class gets passed down the traditions from the class so tethered to my persona as an athlete. Soon, unknowingly, a new group of guys will validate everything last years seniors strived for; by exhibiting positive habits that they so ardently endeavored to instill. Their mark will be forever etched into the team.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7921818873783149322-8472233918399780902?l=hprunning.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/feeds/8472233918399780902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/06/chapters-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/8472233918399780902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/8472233918399780902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/06/chapters-end.html' title='A Chapter&apos;s End'/><author><name>Buti</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bRm1Lv-htck/TMsDQb0ljcI/AAAAAAAAABM/8Q85TpU-_B4/S220/family+pic+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921818873783149322.post-3159321755708604266</id><published>2011-04-26T10:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-26T10:26:27.170-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Opportunities</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 13.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 13pt;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;By: Lucas Nudelman &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 13.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 13pt;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Editor: Jordan Atkins&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Cambria; font-size: 16pt;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 13.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Cambria;"&gt;As we approach the last open meet of the 2011 season, the opportunities for those not already with a line-up spot are coming to a close. Of course there is the off chance that someone may earn a spot via a time trial, but for the most part, spots will be cemented after the meets on Tuesday (Glenbrook South Open and The New Trier Frosh/Soph Invite). Some of us will have the opportunity to compete in all of the meets here to come; some will compete in one, and some in none at all. Some should be content with this because the reason they aren't going to be competing is that their physical ability does not come in proportion with their love for the sport, and their bodies will not let them meet the standard needed to make the line-up. Others, however, will have been physically able but weren't willing to put in the hard work and effort. They will look back in retrospect at the mistakes they made, the chances squandered, and they will only be able to wish for them back.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 13.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: 48.0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Cambria;"&gt;Over the weekend, Ari Feldman was given the chance to earn a mile spot, as he was given a vacated position in the Twilight Invitational. He got the chance through the misfortune of another one of our athletes who made some poor choices that ended his season prematurely. An opportunity was then stripped from one and given to another. Some might say, “So what? He’s a junior, there will always be next year.’’ This is correct, there will be a next year for him, and he will probably learn from his mistakes and make better decisions, but his junior season is over for good. Lately some team members have seemed future focused: not today; tomorrow.&amp;nbsp; I’m fearful that if this grows to become a team mantra, we will never reach our full potential. In the past few months I've found myself thinking about what the next two seasons will look like, but now I'm more hesitant to ponder my possible future success. I'm learning that if I don't focus in on the here and now, I will never reach these aspirations. I'm reminded of a quote that Coach Buti has brought up more than a couple times in the past two years, "Some people dream of success while others wake up and work hard at it"-author unknown. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; People who make excuses for not preparing properly for their events or the meet will never succeed. These people think there’s always going to be a tomorrow for them, but when tomorrow comes, the mental preparedness won’t be there. No matter what they are able to do physically, the mental toughness needed to achieve greatness will not be there. &amp;nbsp;When the clock strikes midnight, the opportunities will all be gone. They will never get another chance to compete as a Highland Park Giant.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Cambria;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Ari (Rothschild) will get his accolades, and if all goes well he will win the 3200 at conference and then on to the State Finals, and the same with Berk in the pole vault. These guys didn’t get to where they are today; breaking records and making state by saying, “This meet doesn’t really matter, there will be another one later that I can prove myself in.” They got to where they are today by everyday giving it all they had, by preparing well mentally and physically. When the sand in the hourglass runs out, they’ll be satisfied with how their careers went. They will look back at their success in joy, no opportunities wasted, no regrets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7921818873783149322-3159321755708604266?l=hprunning.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/feeds/3159321755708604266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/04/opportunities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/3159321755708604266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/3159321755708604266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/04/opportunities.html' title='Opportunities'/><author><name>Buti</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bRm1Lv-htck/TMsDQb0ljcI/AAAAAAAAABM/8Q85TpU-_B4/S220/family+pic+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7921818873783149322.post-3506160813369312308</id><published>2011-04-20T18:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T11:28:39.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Dripping Time Trial</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;By: Lucas Nudelman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;Waking  up to rain splashing on the roof of my house, as it had been doing  since the previous night, I knew that the meet would probably be  canceled and we would just be holding an intra-squad race. I took a look  outside at the dreary weather, and then stood amongst the scattered  articles of running gear in my room, and I wondered if it was all worth  it. I snapped out of my trance, scrambled to gather all the gear I  needed, and rushed out the door to catch the ride waiting in my  driveway. I arrived slightly late to practice, but it went unnoticed  because the team meeting hadn’t started yet as people were still  strolling in. The meeting began and Coach shared the daily announcements  with us. We procrastinated a bit before driving over to the track at  Wolters Field.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;We  began our warm-up as a team and in a few minutes the group had spread  further and further apart, I decided I was only going to go one and a  half miles for the warm-up. Most guys either did one or two miles, but  for some reason one and a half seemed just right for me. I started the  three quarter mile trek back to the track, my shoes were becoming  increasingly soggy from the puddles and the rain that was producing  them. I wasn’t looking forward to the race, it was raining, cold, and I  wasn’t feeling ready in the least bit. My legs felt like no one had told  them it was time to run, and they were still at home sleeping in my  bed. My stomach was at unease, I hadn’t eaten anything this morning and  the grumbling turned into a feeling that was border lining on sickness. I  began dreading even more having to push my  body  through a half mile race. A cold breeze began circulating around me,  and I was grateful for my sweat suit, and dreading when I would have to  strip out of it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Calibri;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;I  arrived back at the track to be informed that I would be in the slow  heat of the eight hundred meter race, this isn’t to say that I wouldn’t  have competition though. I did my stride-outs, stretched and laced up my  spikes. I wanted to get this race over with and be able to take refuge  inside the heated building once more. Following the conclusion of the  hundred meter races, we began lining up for our race. We shed our  warm-up gear and this only intensified the frigidness and wetness I was  feeling. Coach didn’t have a starting gun so it was on a ready-set-go  system. On the word ‘ready’ I cleared my mind of all the sounds going on  around me, from the splashes of raindrops on the track to the sound of  my teammates adjusting their racing uniforms. On ‘set’ I stepped  up to the line and on ‘go’ I bolted off. The first lap had passed by,  and I heard footsteps that I assumed could only be Jordan’s at my heels.  The rain seemed to pick up just a bit, and the thin singlet and  short-shorts I was wearing served as no protection from the cold breeze  that penetrated my uniform to chill my soaked body. Two hundred meters  were left, and my legs began to give out under me, It became clear that I  wouldn’t be able to sustain any sort of decent pace for very much  longer. I gave it all I had, as my legs began tightening up, and my  stride began to constrict from the impact they had endured in the last  two minutes or so. I stumbled across the finish line, too consumed by  respiratory distress to feel any sort of joy from actually finishing the  race.&amp;nbsp; We were all huffing and puffing and  struggling to stay standing as gravity accompanied with exhaustion  pulled us downwards toward the  earth. I walked to Jordan, amidst the competition of it, I grasp him  with my arms, engaging him in a hug. We stood there for maybe ten  seconds, ten seconds that seemed far longer. I supported him as he did  the same for me. An embrace that was only sound-tracked by each of our  heavy breathing. On a Saturday morning when most other high school  students were still sleeping, we were two exhausted boys sharing a wet  hug in the &lt;span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1303349932_4"&gt;freezing rain&lt;/span&gt;, and there was no place I would have rather been.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7921818873783149322-3506160813369312308?l=hprunning.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/feeds/3506160813369312308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/04/dripping-time-trial.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/3506160813369312308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7921818873783149322/posts/default/3506160813369312308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hprunning.blogspot.com/2011/04/dripping-time-trial.html' title='A Dripping Time Trial'/><author><name>Buti</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='23' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bRm1Lv-htck/TMsDQb0ljcI/AAAAAAAAABM/8Q85TpU-_B4/S220/family+pic+2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
