Dane Hamann – Class of 2006

 

 

I, too, must first thank Coach for his help with my desire to pursue graduate studies.

When I’m slumped at my desk, waiting for the day to be over, I sometimes reminisce about those sure-as-death-and-taxes Monday tempo runs and that damned fourth mile in Dundas that requires a brief but painful sprint up the hilly road. Coach would always be standing there, counting off mile splits, and inquiring if pitiable sprinter-types like myself wanted to become an innocuous pup-in-the-basket. I know that on bad days I took the offer—as did many of us for various reasons—but when I think about it, I don’t ever remember those tempo runs being that difficult. I just remember powering down those gravel roads under a glaring early autumn sun or overcast November sky, feeling stronger than I have ever felt before or since. More free than I have ever felt, too.

That was Coach’s power, what made the Big O under him so great. Thunder always believed in our abilities as student-athletes. He was always there, not forgetting even the last of us, as we struggled on home. He always addressed us with Men…and we responded in kind. It is a very fine and fortunate thing that we have had the privilege to learn and run under Coach. There are few people that I have met that are as gruff, respectful, and considerate as he. So, when I’m working or standing on my feet for hours, rubbing a hamstring that still gets sore, I’ll think of Coach, fast meets, and all the stories I could tell. But those stories belong to many of us because the best ones are the ones that we share and joke about years after they happen—stories of our antics and Coach’s stern but slightly amused demeanor at Kansas, Drake, MIACs, the Ole Invite, and many more. Somehow, despite all the conference and Karhu parties and general ridiculousness we managed to win a few meets here and there and still graduate from St. Olaf.

I believe the very first words Coach ever spoke to me were at the freshmen athletic informational meetings the day after I moved onto campus. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked—very reassuring for a freshman—as I handed in my papers for Cross Country. My response remains the same, “Yes sir.”