Former UCLA captain and NCAA individual qualifier Bryan Green
is in Japan these days, carrying a full load of different sorts! Below
is a response to an email, plus some of his fine literary work on running!

Dear Rich,

To tell the truth, I live in Japan and teach English. I hope that doesn't disqualify me from entering the predictions contest. :-) My mom still lives in the Palmdale area and all of my U.S. business gets done through that address.

I've been here since August 2002, having come shortly after graduation. I may return August of next year, or I may stay another year here. I'm having a great time, so one more year is the direction I'm leaning. I've been coaching track and field over here and it's quite a different experience (the whole system is different--no leagues!?). Still, it's nice to continue
to be involved with something that had such a big impact on my life. I also do a lot of writing here, some of which is related to running. I'm attaching a little story I wrote a while ago (Editor's note: We've posted it below).

Being in Japan does have it's disadvantages, though. No pepperoni pizza, no Gatorade, no English translations for foreign films, etc. But the worst is not being around at this time of year. I love the Championship season in college/high school cross country. I used to go up to Fresno every year even though I didn't know anyone; I just loved the meet. And I really wish
I could have seen some of the UCLA meets this year--7th at Nationals!

It may not be possible given the nature of your site (which is awesome, I love to check out what's going on, who's beating who, etc.), but serious props should be given to UCLA's California crew and how high they finished. They had one girl from out of state on the team (Winant, from Philly), only a couple "Foot Locker" high school runners (of which Winant wasn't one), and their best two runners (Nilsson and Barrientos) didn't even run. UCLA's team:

Flores, San Pedro
Caldwell, Bay area?
Timinsky, San Diego
Costello, Esperanza?
McBain, Thousand Oaks
Hall, definitely California, but not sure where
Winant (Philadelphia, the only non-Californian)

The team could have been 3rd even without them, but Costello fell down and was dead last at the one mile mark (or so I was told); she had been running at Caldwell's level all year! Stanford deserves a lot of credit for what they've done (beating BYU is no small task) but I think the fact that UCLA's team is made up of predominately California athletes and they're reaching that elite level is equally impressive in it's own right. Well, maybe I'm a little biased, too! But I am really proud of all my old teammates and the progress they've made there. And I saw on your site that Rethmeier's signed. She'll help a lot next year!

Well, this email has gotten long and with the attachment, will take up a lot of your memory. I better end it. If I could suggest one thing, it would be this: when you profile former California high school greats and their successes now, you should also profile former California "not-so-greats" who have had individual success or contributed to team success in college (like McBain at UCLA). Not sure how you'd find out about everyone, but I'd like to read it. Anyway, just an idea!

Thanks for replying. Enjoy the State meet and the Western Regionals! I wish I could be there!

Bryan Green
Littlerock High, '97
UCLA, '02

Below is a fun read from Bryan about a recent training run. In addition to running, this kid has writing talent!

My Mini-Odyssey
by Bryan Green

A true story:

         I woke up today and it seemed like a typical Sunday in Yonezawa. Overcast, a bit rainy, cool but not cold. The weather made a drastic change a week ago. It’s definitely autumn now. I strapped on the ol’ trainers and headed out for a nice 40-45 minute run. That’s about what I run, nowadays. It’s almost always on pavement. I don’t have much in the way of dirt out here, but I did find a nice stretch about ten minutes north of my apartment. Well, it’s a washboard road, so maybe nice isn’t the most accurate description. Regardless, I headed out to it, figuring I’d run along that stretch, add a bit on, and then head back the same way, so that half of my run would be off the pavement. I had no idea this run was to become an Odyssey: an Odyssey of mini-proportions.

         I was feeling good so I made it to the washboard road in about nine minutes. There was a light drizzle and the dirt had the smell of rain. (I love the smell of dirt after it rains.) I started down the washboard road and shortly thereafter a gigantic taka (hawk) began to circle me. Definitely the biggest I’ve ever seen. It probably thought I was breakfast. Yeah, that big. As I cruised along, watching it, it continued to follow and circle me. Three minutes and a half-mile later I started thinking to myself, “What’s the deal with this hawk?” At this point it shrieked at me. I immediately understood it was an evil hawk.

         But I was in the middle of nowhere. There weren’t even any trees. I had only one chance; I picked up the pace. I dropped it down to about 5:30 pace and the hawk realized I wasn’t messin’ around. It gave chase, but I could see in its evil posture that it couldn’t maintain. It shrieked, “Maitta (I am beaten)!” and veered off to the south. I held pace until I was sure it wasn’t trying to flank me, and then slowed back down to regular road run pace.

         At the end of the washboard road I was in a precarious position: I either find a new way home, or I risk another round with Taka-san. I opted for the former. At this moment I saw just off to the side another dirt road I’d never seen before. (Could this be? How could I have missed this?) Technically, it was another road, but it was really two wheel-paths with some underbrush in the middle. It went off directly east. I still had to add on, and having just vanquished a foe, I was feeling confident. I decided to take the road.

         As I made my way along this road, I could see a highway off in the distance and I made up my mind to run to it. However, I began to notice that the vegetation along the sides was slowly creeping in closer and closer. In some areas, it began to cross my path. I could avoid it by switching wheel-paths, but it was getting more and more difficult. After a while I had to just charge through the vegetation. Unfortunately, it turned out that one of the bushes had thorns. My shins began to get scratched and my clothes were getting snagged. I immediately understood these were evil bushes.

          But I was in their clutches. I had only one chance; I told the bushes in a quiet, semi-menacing tone to, “Bring it,” and I picked up the pace. And then I was in a clearing. No more bushes. Obviously, the bushes could tell by my tone of voice that I wasn’t messin’ around. I gave the laugh of a naïve, overly confident victor and continued on my way, once again at my regular road run pace.

         Within a couple minutes I began to hear a buzzing in my surroundings. (So familiar, yet…) Then, first from my right and then from my left, I was attacked by tonbo (dragonflies—not to be confused with tanbo, the rice fields, which were dutifully supplying tonbo reinforcements). They seemed to appear out of nowhere. I immediately understood these were evil dragonflies.

        But I was in the middle of their base. And, Oh, were they good! They planned a real precision attack. Some were merely decoys distracting me, others flew near my ears making it hard to hear them coming, and a daring few came in for a frontal kamikaze attack, a la World War II. It was the decoys that made their attack so devastating. If I so much as flinched—BAM!—a frontal attack resulted in a tonbo bouncing off my forehead.

         I was beginning to feel outmatched. I looked around but there was no one to help me. I was outnumbered by, like, a lot. I had only one chance; I began to use one arm in a windshield-wiper motion in front of my face, and with the other arm, I judo-chopped in carefully calculated areas, while simultaneously picking up the pace. Obviously, the tonbo could tell by my strategic response that I wasn’t messin’ around. I continued on in this way for another minute or two, swatting tonbo with vicious judo-chops, until I reached some trees.

        As soon as I entered the trees, the tonbo assault came to an end. I breathed a sigh of relief and started off again at regular road run pace. Not ten steps into the trees, I hit a spider web. It was only a support beam, and I didn’t bother to stop. But the next one covered my entire face. I stopped, got it off, and checked to see if there was a spider on me. There wasn’t, so I continued. Fifteen steps later, I again had my face covered by a spider web. I was beginning to get the willies. I stopped, got it off, and took stock of my surroundings.

        Up above me there were a number of huge spider webs. They crossed the entire path. Most of them came down to head height. And in the middle of each spider web was a palm-sized green and black spider. I stood in shock. Then I felt a movement on my shoulder. I hadn’t made sure that last web didn’t have a spider, and it was on my arm. I freaked, swatted at it, did a small dance, and immediately understood these were evil spiders.

        But I was in the middle of their lair. They were everywhere. I had only one chance; I had to make myself the height of a Japanese person, and pick up the pace. I ducked down to a height of about four feet, put my arm out in front of my face, and ran (see also: waddled) until I was out of the trees, because those spiders weren’t messin’ around! Once outside I made sure no one saw that last bit, regained my composure, and looked for the highway. To my surprise, I had been running parallel to it the whole time. I immediately understood that nature is evil.

         I ran through a small tanbo and made it to the pavement (Oh, lovely pavement!). I looked around and realized I had not been running east as I thought, but rather, north. As I started my run heading north, I was now extremely far from my apartment. And from what I could see, the only direct route back was the way I came. Keeping in mind that judgment is the better part of valor, I decided to take the long way.

         I had never been out here before so I picked a mountain as a landmark and tried to keep heading in that direction. After 20 minutes, I began to see some identifiable structures in my city. I found the large radio tower near my house and began to weave through small neighborhoods in that general direction. After a couple wrong turns, dead ends, and near death experiences with crazy Japanese drivers who don’t look before they turn, I found my way home.

        The final tally for my run came out to be: one hour, 11 minutes, 20 seconds of running (I told you it was mini), six scratches on my shins, four itchy spots on my chest (?), 20+ vicious tonbo judo-chops, one spider swat, four evil enemies overcome, two sore legs, and one tired body. There’s really only one word to describe a run like that! SUGOI! Awesome!)

Great stuff, Bryan!  :-)