When I was an itty bitty freshman, I was obsessed with soccer. Soccer was my life; I lived, breathed, and loved soccer. Going to practice twice a week was my favorite thing to do, and I cherished every Saturday morning in which I had to be at the soccer field at 7 a.m. for tournament play. I enjoyed every bruise, anguished in every loss, and cursed myself at every mistake I made with the ball. If you told me that by my senior year I wouldn’t even touch a soccer ball, I would think you were crazy. Well, here I am, getting ready to graduate, and I haven’t played a formal soccer game in about a year. However, I’ve found a new obsession: running.
I remember in middle school, when my friend asked me to join the track team with her, “No way!” I insisted, “I don’t even like the running we do in soccer!”. So then again,when I was a freshman, I was reluctant when my mom suggested that I join the track team. But I talked to Coach Jenkins in my weight training class, and I decided to give it a go. I wanted to run the shortest distance possible. When the coaches asked what races I wanted to run, I said the 100 meter dash. After a few practices, they sent me to the “dark side” with the distance runners. Success was not found right away; I took a break in the middle of my first 800 interval, wheezed when we did 400’s, and feared track practice every day. But eventually, I found my niche and could keep up with the upper classman runners, mostly because I was just so darn competitive. I wanted to beat them so bad. I ended up over training and developing a nasty case of the shin splints.
My injury did not deter me. I came back sophomore year with even more determination; I never missed a practice. I was on the track every day possible from December to mid March. That was when disaster struck. On the second lap of an 800 meter race, I was accelerating towards the finish when -POP- I felt my hamstring tear, and collapsed to the track. I stared down at the white lines on either side of my slumped over body. As the other competitors stampeded past me, I knew I had really done it this time. I limped to the finish line, 150 meters away.
So why am I still running, you ask? Well, that’s what this chapter is all about. I truly love running, and I have a passion of self-improvement beyond what I ever had before. I had the same desire when I played soccer, but the sport of running amplifies it, and that’s what I love about it. Everything in running is earned, never given. Distance runners aren’t born. They are made through hard work, dedication, and with a little bit of insanity. It’s impossible to get on a cross country team just because of who you are or because your parents begged for you. You have to be able to run a fast enough time, and if you can’t, you’ve got to dig deep and train to earn a spot. Cross country is an amazing sport of teamwork, accountability, and strength, and when I finally found it junior year, I
realized that running is what I really want to do. I feel like I lost two years of high school
by not running cross country from the start. I met some truly awesome people through cross country, and I have no idea what I would do without them.
A lot of people would use this chapter to talk about their first crush or first
“significant other”. Running is my significant other. We spend time with each other every day, whether it is pleasant or not. We hang out even when we don’t want to even see each other’s face. And we fight. A lot. However, we always come back into each other’s arms, happy to have found each other and to be in love. Boys will come and go, but running and I will be together forever.
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