BIRMINGHAM, Alabama -- Stan Weihe constantly thinks about becoming a regular SEC football official. He's a 48-year-old ex-offensive lineman who sells asphalt equipment in Kentucky and knows the SEC -- not the NFL -- represents his ceiling in officiating.

That assumes Weihe (pronounced why) reaches the SEC.

Because right now on a muggy late-July morning at Mountain Brook High School, Weihe is laboring during his 1.5-mile run that every SEC official must pass to be on the field.

If he finishes the run in 14 minutes, 16 seconds, Weihe will be a supplemental SEC umpire in 2013 and work one SEC game plus his Sun Belt duties. If he comes up short for the second straight year, Weihe won't be on an SEC field.

At the nine-minute split, Weihe finds himself 15 seconds off the pace. He's occasionally stopping to walk to catch his breath. Doctors and trainers anxiously look at their stopwatches and a clipboard with Weihe's time.

Referee Matt Austin and side judge Chris Conley, who already completed their runs, jog beside Weihe and shout encouragement. Austin and Weihe are friends from Louisville. They came up together through the Ohio Valley Conference before their officiating paths separated -- Austin to the SEC and Weihe to the Sun Belt.

Conley, a marathon runner and the chaplain of SEC officials, keeps glancing at his watch and grows nervous. Conley knows the time Weihe needs, and with a quarter of a mile to go, Weihe won't get it at this rate.

"You can't lollygag from here!" Conley shouts to Weihe. "When you get to that blue tarp, you're going to have to sprint and do everything you can."

Weihe starts his last-ditch sprint toward a dream.

***

They converge every summer for three days in Birmingham. It feels like part retreat, part study session when SEC officials attend their annual officiating clinic.

Stan Weihe runs the SEC officials physical assessment during the SEC football officiating clinic at Mountain Brook High School, Friday, July 26, 2013. Referee Matt Austin (orange shirt) and side judge Chris Conley, who previously finished their runs, offer encouragement. (Tamika Moore | tmoore@al.com)

Stan Weihe reaches the blue tarp. He's sprinting.

Sweat drips down his face. Breaths become deeper. Arms pump up and down. Legs gallop in longer strides.

This is a man's one-game SEC season slipping away.

He needs 14:16. Medical officials look at stopwatches and up at Weihe, back and forth. Stopwatch, Weihe; stopwatch, Weihe.

Fifteen seconds from 14:16, it doesn't seem possible he'll make it.

Weihe crosses the finish line. For a few seconds, there's no official word. Conley, running beside him, shouts in joy that Weihe got his time, almost as if he's a wide receiver trying to sell a late hit.

Heads glance at stopwatches again. The verdict: 14:16.

"I saved any second I could," Weihe says later. "Without the moral support of (Conley and Austin) and the other guys cheering, I never would have made it. It's all mental. You just pray to God and say, 'Just give me something, give me something.'"