Its official:

My coach is messing with my head.

I’ve always suspected Coach Lananna’s gift for coaching moved beyond the physical, but now I’m sure his little hands are wrapped tightly around my over-active brain. After seven years of working with one of the most legendary coaches of the present time, it took a simple 8×400 meter workout on Wednesday to make his methods (a tiny bit more) clear. He is coaching my mind.

When it comes to exceptional coaching, you don’t have to be Bill Bowerman, Arthur Lydiard, Jack Daniels, or Phil King to create great results. Hundreds of coaches all over the world will stumble upon a magical formula that works on some of their athletes, guiding those athletes to levels they never dreamed possible (on every level from the Olympics to breaking the 6 minute mile). What makes exceptional coaching is often a mystery; a certain magic happens between a coach and an athlete that makes the blah blah blah physical preparation translate directly into competitiveness and confidence. The best coaches have left a legacy of artistry and finesse, and the specifics of their workouts are simply scraps left behind for the rest of us to chew on.

Whether its 10×400 vs. 12×300… stair climbs vs. hill reps… its all hard work. Writing out workouts is one thing, and “executing them” is another. My coach, Vin Lananna, has always treated coaching like an art, executing workouts to complicated levels requiring 5 or 6 stopwatches and several assistants, pulling athletes out early because of “how they look”, even if they are hitting all the right times. I never picked up on the subtleties, and would try to figure out why so many Stanford Athletes were running well. In the track office, I’d ask Vin about his training philosophy and what workouts were going to make me a faster athlete. Time and time again, he would lightly dismiss physiology talk and direct the conversation to my goals, my motivations, and other non-related subjects that exposed how my brain worked and what made me tick. It was as if I were asking Willy Wonka for his recipe for chocolate and Willy Wonka, (pointing to his giant magical Chocolate Factory), says “the taste has got very little to do with the actual recipe, my dear.”

During my time there, Stanford was Coach Lananna’s Magical Choclate Factory, and I was an everlasting gobstopper. The success was never meant to end, so long as we believed. NCAA champions and All-Americans were popping up all over the place. I had four uninterrupted years of incredible fun that I will never forget. This was of course complicated by graduating from college, and Coach moving to Ohio and leaving coaching behind for a little while. Outside of the magical factory, the training plan over email became just a recipe. Left only with numbers and symbols on a calendar, it no longer looked so impressive. “Is that all?” I’d think. “That can’t possibly be enough training…” I’d muse. Left only with my workouts, I looked around at what workouts other people were doing for comparison. Slowly but surely I was looking everywhere else but right in front of me. I’m sure you can guess that my racing started to suffer a bit. The whole grass is greener thing is disasterous in sports. Just don’t do it, ok?

To my great excitement and good fortune, Coach Lananna made a big move back into coaching last year and moved to Eugene, Oregon to coach the ducks. There was very little question in my mind that I needed to move there too. I missed the magical chocolate factory. I missed being the everlasting gobstopper.

Yesterday I came down to the track at Hayward Field for 8×400 meters with Coach. We’ve been working together again for a couple months now and it feels like a good old pair of shoes getting broken back in. Even though the routines came back immediately, the magic takes a little longer to brew. We both have our own sparkle, but does the potential for magic leading up to the 2008 Olympics still exist?

After yesterday’s 400’s, I have a feeling it does. And how do I know? Because I came face to face with Willy Wonka himself on #6 of 8 400’s.

You know how in 8×400, #5, 6, and 7 are the hardest? But somewhere after #6ish, you know you are home free and there is a big relief inside knowing the worst is over. Suddenly you feel better, you focus on doing the last one well, etc. Your focus changes from being a tough cookie to being finished soon.

Now imagine at the moment of switching to the relief of being nearly done, you coach leans over right before #7 and says, “You are going to do 10 instead. Can you do 10? Ok, #7…GO!!!”

So I’m off on #7 running, and my mind is like “What the heck! He can’t do that! This is supposed to be my almost-last-one and now I’m not even close! Ow, this is really hard! I’m tired. My legs hurt. I can’t breathe! I can’t possibly do three more after this. What a jerk! Grrrrr…..”

And for that whole 68.1 seconds, I’m mentally fighting a war. He did the same thing to me on 1000 meter reps last week and I mentally fell apart, and now I’m realizing that this is a test. Its part of the training that isn’t on the recipe….its part of the magic. I pull myself together and focus on passing this mental test. I CAN be tough when things turn out harder than I expect them to. I CAN change from cruise-home mode back to tough-girl mode.

After 9, he stops the workout. “I’m on to your little trick, Coach…” I want to say to him. But I don’t say anything. I play my role and scowl at him and I let him be the magician. I may not have aced the test, but next time I will. Thinking about it later that night, I realized that lots of women can run 400 reps in 67 to 68, yet only three stand on the podium. It is my belief that what sets those three apart is often the artistry of coaching and the chemistry between coach and athlete. It takes a little magic.

So when I started out by saying that my coach was messing with my mind, that’s what I meant, and its a good thing.

I believe in magic.

Bring it on.

-L