It's a Fine Line between Annihilation and Ascension

The more I allow my life to revolve around the 800 meters, the more I think there's enough of an amazing true but untold story to make an Oscar winning documentary on the event.

Wikipedia has this to say:

In modern 800 m races, runners start from staggered positions on the track and must remain in their respective lanes until the end of the first curve (about 115m). After the first curve, competitors may break for the inside, as long as they do not deliberately obstruct or push another competitor. Running at full speed for the entire distance is impossible, and a runner's strategy and tactics are a factor in reaching the finish line first. Running in the lead is often considered a disadvantage, as trailing runners can choose when to accelerate past the leader, and wind resistance has a greater effect on those in the front of the pack. Runners in lane one but not leading the race must also be careful to avoid becoming boxed in by other runners, as this eliminates the crucial ability to completely control one's own pace. Running in last place is also not recommended, as there may be too much ground to make up when the final sprint for the finish starts.

However, it can be sensible for an athlete to remain at the back of the field if the pace at the front is far too fast, provided that the athlete in question does not leave too much ground to make up. This was illustrated by Kelly Holmes at the 2004 Summer Olympics, where Holmes stayed at the rear of the field until the last 300 m before making a decisive move. A more unorthodox tactical move came from John Woodruff who, in the 1936 Summer Olympics, was boxed in by runners early in the race. He slowed almost to a complete stop, let the runners pass, and then took the third lane to come from behind and take the victory. In the 1972 Summer Olympics, Dave Wottle, demonstrated yet another unusual tactic by crossing the 400m mark in last place, unfazed by the overly fast pace, and passing nearly every racer in the last 150 meters, taking the gold.

In top class races, the lane start usually ensures a brisk pace for the first 200 m. Occasionally, no one will be happy to lead, and the field will bunch for the remainder of the first lap. This will lead to a slow first 400 m, leaving the runners extra energy for a hard sprint on the second lap, favouring the sprint type 800m runner. Alternatively, one runner will ensure a fast first lap and the winner will be the athlete who slows least on the second lap. This tactic favours the endurance or distance type 800m runner. Some 800m runners are able to run world-class times with even laps, or even negative splits (which means the second lap is quicker than the first).

Note in particular the "running at full speed for the entire distance is impossible" and the last paragraph which states that the first lap could be deliberately slow, favoring a 400 m sprint style, or it could be deliberately fast favoring an endurance style run.

In other words, unlike the 100m sprinter, where you turn up each day knowing exactly what your competitors and you are all going to try and do, you go to the 800m having literally no FUCKING IDEA how you are going to run it.

Surely the easiest thing to do is sprint out into an insurmountable lead in the first lap, where your competitors hit the wall and you jog it into the finish. Except what if you hit the wall?

Question two, the second simplest thing is to comfortably tail the pack and then make your move and sprint off at the right time. Except what if they sprint off on you?

The answer to both these questions, defies game theory, probabilities and prisoner dilemma's. (Although if you decided to rock, paper, scissors for all places then simply jog the two laps in that order, everyone would be better off).

You simply don't know. It leads me to believe then that here, in ultimate uncertainty, God dwells. Yes God is the 800M.

If you make one slight miscalculation, one nervous little mistake, if your knee tweaks just slightly, or your heal slips out a mm, or you break a nanosecond to early, or you hesitate between a hummingbird's wing flap the 800 meters ends like this for you:



That's if you are minutely off game. If you get everything absolutely perfect, this is what it feels like (I have experienced it once):



Poor Kubrick, had he just run the 800 m as a child, he wouldn't have had to make that confusing movie. And poor everyone who was relieved to lose their virginity, to know that you still have not experienced winning an 800m foot race, and that popping your cherry is roughly, honestly 1/1000 the experience beating the 800m is.