Pioneers break records at indoor track and field championships

nell said that this year’s team was particularly strong in long-distance events compared to prior seasons.

In addition to the athletes’ record-breaking performances, Burnell also said that one of the highlights of this season thus far was the community building.

Burnell said that the success of the team at the championship went beyond the numbers and outcomes. Rather, she attributed the success to what she called “the athletes’ desire to be a part of something bigger than individual performance.”

“That is something that’s much less tangible but much more meaningful,” said Burnell.

Regarding the team atmosphere, Carchidi said, “It’s an environment that encourages hard work but without too much pressure.”

Edassery said that one of the best moments of the tournament was being able to stand on the podium with her relay team.

After months of preparation, members of the track and field teams achieved record-breaking performances, cementing their names in Pioneer history. At the Midwest Conference (MWC) indoor track and field championship on Feb. 24 and 25, Grinnell College athletes broke two school records, with others achieving second- or third-best times in program history.

“This is definitely one of the strongest team performances we’ve had on the whole for both men and women,” said Sarah Burnell `14, assistant track and field coach.

Ian Clawson `26 scored a record performance in the weight throw event, throwing a toss of 54-5 1/2. His throw earned him third in the event.

A newcomer to indoor track and field, Eva Carchidi `24 broke the school record for the 60m dash with a time of 8.04 seconds. She would later place second in the event fi- nals with a time of 8.07 seconds. second in the women’s 400m finals, and a team consisting of Edassery, Ava Taylor `25, Maile Crowe `25 and Athena Frasca `23 placed second in the 4x200m relay with a time of 1:48.56, the second best in program history.

Lucas Fadden `26 earned the title of MWC Newcomer of the Year after placing second in the 60m dash and third in the 400m.

Keely Miyamoto `26 won the 3000m race with a time of 10:18.91, the third-best time in the College’s history. Miyamoto attributed their performance to their preparation and warmup with their teammates immediately before the race.

According to Miyamoto, they prepared for the race with two of their teammates by practicing laps while listening to music. Miyamoto said that it was this connection that helped push them to perform as they did.

“I knew it was going to be fun to run with them,” said Miyamoto about their teammates.

Additionally, Brian Goodell `24 won the 5000m run, earning his second career MWC title. His time of 15:08.75 was the fastest time for the Pioneers since 2006.

Sonia Edassery `23 came in

Grinnell’s men’s track team placed third in the conference, while the women’s team placed fourth. Last year, the teams placed fourth and fifth respectively — Bur-

“[It’s] one of the best feelings ever,” she said, “because you’re all putting in the work together.”

Following the conclusion of the Midwest Conference championships, the track team is now moving forward to preparing for their outdoor season, which concludes with the outdoor track and field Midwest Conference championships from May 12-23.

Burnell said that this past conference is an opportunity for the team to assess itself and improve upon weaker areas. To Burnell, the team’s performance at the conference is a good sign that the team is moving in the right direction.

“I think we have a really good foundation,” said Burnell. “That tells us we’re doing things in the right way. And now, it’s just a matter of continuing to do that and pressing the limits a little to see how much we have left in the tank.”

By Lucia Cheng chengluc@grinnell.edu

Monterey Park is my hometown but not my home. On Lunar New Year, Monterey Park — the first ever Asian American suburb — was the site of a mass shooting. Monterey Park is also the city where, according to my parents, I will die.

Grinnell was a place where I was supposed to learn resilience, where I could learn to feel safe. A place where I could live up to my potential and be ready to go out into the world, making a difference. But the shooting has shown me what a temporary place this college is. I have the future hanging over my head when I think about how the past haunts me.

Whenever I got sick, my mom would tell me, with spittle flying out of her mouth, “Don’t complain to me about your pain. If it hurts that bad, just die.” Or, “You’ll understand how much I’ve done for you when I’m dead.” So in the wake of the shootings, I don’t dream of bullets tearing through my body. I don’t really dream anymore — I don’t really sleep. I’m scared of being unconscious because what my mom said about my complaining might come true, that because of me voicing my pain, I need to die.

I thought I had escaped my trauma at Grinnell. But as it turns out, my racial trauma and mental illnesses have combined to become something bigger than me. I am the byproduct of a system that chewed me up and spit me back out. My desire to become a changemaker was exploited by Grinnell, and I am left wondering what I have to offer besides the unshakeable conviction I have that I am a failure. What gives me the right to talk about change if I can’t even change myself?

“It’s not just an issue for Asian-American students. It’s an issue for everyone,” said Sharon Quinsaat, Filipina and assistant professor of sociology who teaches SOC 255: Sociology of Asian America.

At this college, we constantly talk about our duties and responsibilities to society. As a person who claims marginalized identities, I feel the pressure to be outspoken because otherwise, who will step up and say something? Call it my savior complex, call it moral obligation, but I am at the point where I don’t know if anything I have to offer will be able to change this place for the better. After four years at this institution, of living through COVID and watching the people around me fight for even a scrap of dignity and recognition, for real connections and to be seen as real people, I am grieving this college and our society, but most of all, my place in this world. I am watching, helpless, as student organizations snuff out one-by-one, as individuals feel increasingly isolated, as activism dies on this campus. Or maybe I’m just a jaded fourth year. comes next. In high school, my goal was to escape. I thought college would be my happy ending where everything would be okay as long as I was with people who shared the same values as me. I wanted to do so much here, to leave this place better than I found it. If I just push towards graduation, what happens to the part of me that wants things to change? The future looks like a black hole. If I’m left without a goal, how do I keep surviving? In the wake of the shootings, how can I willingly walk into that black hole where it feels like everything falls apart, with the odds stacked against me? was violated. It felt like a reflection of my future,” Won said. “It was everyone who had ever called that home, the feeling of comfort, safety and community that got completely uprooted.” the question I ask myself daily — what am I doing all of this for?

“I’m always hopeful. If you’re an activist, you have to be hopeful,” said Quinsaat.

I can’t make you care, because to care is a heavy burden, to live with unanswered questions is to constantly be sick with uncertainty — and how could I ask you to answer these questions for me? How could I ask you to make a home for me? This college tells us that it will be the place for us to celebrate our differences, that it will become our new home away from home. But what if I never had a home in the first place? What if I have become too different?

“I was the thing that was wrong because I was the one that was different,” Won said.

People say I care too much, but how could I not if this space I occupy has the potential to make an impact on someone? If you’re reading this, would you understand me? I am so tired of feeling lonely all the time.

In hopes of finding solace, I reached out to people from the Asian American Association and got into contact with Alyson Won `25, who feels tension between the generational gaps in her family. Her father’s side has lived in San Francisco’s Chinatown for three decades. Her mother, in comparison, is generation zero, having moved to San Francisco from Taiwan. She told me, “The idea of coming together in community is both beautiful and exhausting.”

Occasionally, people ask what they can do to support me. I never know what to say. I don’t have any particular call to action, but maybe it will be enough for me to tell you about

Grinnell asks us to care about everything, everywhere, all at once. It’s exhausting. And too often, the answers these discussions come to are, “Wait it out,” or “There’s nothing you can do about it” or “You just have to graduate.” How can we come together in community if the end of each discussion is simply that we have no answers?

The problem with putting my head down and waiting for graduation is that it doesn’t quell the fear of what

After the shootings, I don’t know how I’m supposed to have hope anymore. I can’t tell if I am who I am because of my background. I had always imagined myself as someone who tries to stand up for the right things, but now, I wonder when all of my work will pay off, when it will all be worth it for some temporary form of happiness.

I feel like I am living out the epilogue of my life. So what now? What comes after the happy ending of getting into college? Why is it so hard to connect to other people? To come together, is trauma-dumping the only thing we can look forward to?

“Maybe the only thing that can unify all the Asians is a shared trauma from white people. It sucks that the unifying thing is in opposition to something else,” Won said.

L.A. “was a place that was violated. It felt like a reflection of my future”

“Knowing that a place [L.A.] that I feel very comfortable in and wanted to call my home, that was a place that