Building the Bridge

Ryker Morrow and Nos Graham working together at the LCS Invitational

How Aligning Expectations Creates a Championship Culture

A bridge is only as strong as the parts that hold it up. Picture a bridge covering a ravine. The bridge has two piers. Each pier is supported by a concrete foundation that is deeply embedded in the ground. The trusses then rise from the concrete on metal beams high into the air. Those beams are attached to the span of the bridge with bearings that flex and move, allowing the bridge to adjust to changes in weight, temperature, and wind.

A team is built in much the same way. The concrete foundation is the standard we set for ourselves. This standard is the basis for the accountability that grounds everything we do. The stronger the foundation, the higher and farther we can build. Rising out of that foundation are the two piers: one represents the coaches, the other represents the athletes. Together, they give the bridge its shape and strength.

Connecting the piers to the bridge are the goals of the team. These goals can shift and change as a season progresses. They must withstand all the inevitable variables thrown at a high school team from the start of the training to the final, championship meets. When the culture is solid, like reinforced steel, it can withstand pressure, adversity, and heavy loads. When the pieces are strong and aligned, the bridge carries us forward, which makes all the work worthwhile.

But if the coaches push in one direction and the athletes don’t match that effort, the structure weakens. The reverse is also true. If athletes want to improve and find ways to achieve more as a team, but the coaches don't provide those opportunities, friction occurs. If the standards at the base aren’t solid, the culture bends, and the goals never connect. The bridge can’t hold.

It's easy to spot imbalances. If coaches are spending valuable time coaxing athletes into action or see inconsistency between goals and the work being put into meeting those goals, such as one great workout followed by a skipped practice, that's a problem. Or if athletes are fueling with soda and candy instead of water and fruit. It can be energy wasted on goofing off instead of a locked-in effort. It’s one step forward, two steps back.

The heart of the problem is belief. Some athletes don’t believe they can run with the best, so they push back by doing less than they’re capable of. But running is a sport without ceilings. Fast can always get faster. Toughness can always grow tougher. Work capacity can always increase. The only limits are the ones we place on ourselves.

That’s where friction happens, when coaches see what’s possible and push for more, while athletes shy away from the load. But the truth is simple: you don’t win cross country meets by working less than your competition. Our program has proven that. Our girls are chasing a fourth straight championship, and our boys know what it feels like to be at the top of the state. The difference between good teams and great teams is when belief meets effort, and when athletes embrace the lifestyle of being a runner.

The best teams we’ve ever had didn’t just practice together; they lived running together. They showed up for doubles, they hung out in the Fieldhouse after workouts, they wore their split shorts everywhere because they were proud of who they were. They didn’t see discipline as a burden; they saw it as the bridge that carried them to something greater.

As coaches, we believe in our training. We believe in our athletes. But the bridge only works when both trusses are aligned and when coaches and athletes buy into the same expectations, the same accountability, the same belief that there’s no ceiling on what we can achieve.

The challenge for us this season is simple: strengthen the base, align the trusses, and build the bridge higher than we’ve ever built it before. We're getting closer, but we still have a lot of work to do.