Amelia Ehart-Personal Narrative

The weather is perfect for racing: not too hot, not too humid, not too windy. I dash down the twisted trails in the woods, trying not to stumble on the gnarled roots protruding from the dirt. My spikes puncture the soft earth with every stride, and my legs repeatedly pound on the ground, soreness surging through them. As sweat trickles down my face and dirt smears across my aching calves, I ascend a steep hill, trying to bring forth the strength I have accumulated throughout endless hours of practice. Now that I am nearing the final two hundred meters, I must force my body to begin sprinting. Breathing heavily, I dart for the imminent finish line, trying to beat the uninterrupted tick of the timer. Even though the crowd surrounds all around me, I can barely hear their animated cheers, because all I can focus on is crossing the line before the girl next to me. I can feel adrenaline surging through my body, and I widen my stride to cap off the remaining distance. When I glance at my Garmin watch, a new personal best time flashes across the screen. I realize that all of the gruelling work I have put in is worth the final result: happiness. (Snapshot Lead)

Feeling exhausted, I focus on my breathing. I breath in through my nose and then out through my mouth, breath in and out. Repeat. After passing the mile mark, my coach is shrieking for me to relax, because I am on my way to qualify for cross country states. The top twenty girls qualify, and I have been dreaming of this day since freshman year. All I have to do is hold my position, and then I am golden. Suddenly, my legs begin to feel like jello. My running partner slowly fades ahead of me, and I cannot keep up. It feels like I am running backwards as the rest of my teammates pass me one by one. Fighting fatigue, I tell myself I am finishing this race, whether or not I have to crawl like a turtle to do so. I am crossing that finish line.

I go to the grass by where we will line up for the race and I put my spikes on. Making sure every spike is tight; I double knot the laces and stand up. Now my stomach really hurts. The nerves of a runner before a race are one of the worst things to handle. The announcer puts me in line and I take a deep breath once it’s my time to go up to the blocks. I set up my blocks for my standards and take off my sweats. The breeze hits my thighs as my tank top flows from side to side. The sun wishes me good luck just before I start my race. I slightly shake as the announcer tells us, “Runners to your mark!” and I get down. Shaking more vigorously now, my heart is pounding in my chest. It seems like hours waiting for him to yell, “Get set!” “Go!” but once he does I know it’s go time. I push off my blocks, and I run as fast as I can. I can feel my legs moving together in motion as the balls of my feet dig into the track. My spikes are doing their job in helping me grip to the surface as I make my way to the finish line. Neck and neck with the girl next to me I hope she gets winded out near the end and slows down so I can just scarcely make it past her. I feel like I am running as fast as a horse. Crossing that finish line and coming to a slow stop, I breathe heavily as I exhale in relief of being over. I did it, I’m done… and I did well. My legs raw, I get off the track. (AB) Some fellow sprinters congratulate me as I do the same to them. That is what’s nice about track, it seems like most of the people are very friendly. They have no problem congratulating you or talking to you about how nervous they are before a race. We know we are all in the same boat and all we want is to succeed. Every blue moon a distance runner will congratulate a sprinter but I don’t think it has ever happened to me. I don’t know if they are just caught up in their own world or if they are just being stingy about the whole

I refused to ever let someone replace me on the track again. Not only did I earn that respect, I demanded it. My workouts were no longer a social hour, but a boot camp. I was the hardest working undersized athlete in the program. My junior track season finally arrived, yet once again I would not have the chance to compete for a junior varsity district championship. No, this year I competed for a varsity district championship. My efforts in the offseason led to a promotion on the team. The lingering emotions of anger and disappointment were replaced with gleaming pride. My previous failure had propelled me to success within a single

The flags are in sight and off on a wild sprint! I’m going and across the line I am! Exhausted but satisfied. I thought I saw my time was 28 minutes. I had to know the seconds. ( Yes, every second counts.) I was preparing myself mentally for what my time would be. I was eager to know. I ran to my Coach as soon as he was in sight. I ran to him and I immediately asked for my times. He told me and I had to see for myself. 28:04. 28:04!! I was excited! I can’t remember if I jumped up and down or not. Wouldn't be surprising. One thing I did for sure was, walked away and cried. Not only was it 28:04. It was my heart's desire. Coming close to the end of the season, I couldn’t see myself running a varsity time. So the lowest time I hoped I’d get would be 28 and it was!!

“Runners on your mark! Set!” BOOM! Went the gun. Sprinting, the runners advance. I saw the parade of runners before my eyes. Even though I was just behind them, they seemed so far away. All I could hear was cheers from the fences chanting your name until she tripped me. There was a dead silence. No one knew she tripped me, but I did. My face smashed right against the pavement. She tripped me. The Lane 4 runner tripped me. I couldn’t believe it. Coaches running over towards me. But before they could help me, I got up and kept running. Even though the other runners were almost finished with the race, I still wanted to run. I started out on the slower side until I got a momentum. I knew there was no chance on winning, but what the heck. Now I have to

Laying down in bed the night before the meet was always nerve wracking, wondering who was going to show up to the meet the next day. The drive over to the track was often long and silent. Often thinking of every outcome of each race could drive a runner insane. Finally arriving and seeing all the athletes, spectators, and the crowd. The roar of the announcer echoing through the stadium. I stepped on the track hoping to see a few familiar faces. The cold breeze blowing against my tracksuit. I began to warm up and tuned out

"If my men are too scared to return without Hannah Curtis, I will happily let Miss Curtis kill them. There is no room for cowardice in these ranks, boys. I, however, am no coward and an honorable warrior will let me go free back to my Queen." The Commander sounds disgusted as he raises his voice to address me, assuming I'm somewhere near him. Which is true, obviously, yet he can't be sure.

I ran back up the hill to our camp, trying to move quickly without wasting too much energy, took my inhaler, and rushed back down the hill. Soon, it was time for the race to start. The officials gave an overview of information about the race and how it would start. The official behind us blew a long whistle. We stood, motionless, just waiting for that starting gunshot. Pow! The race was off. I sprinted out of the pack. I tried to find a good pace and settle in. We ran up a few hills, and then we made it to the first entrance to the creek. Unintelligently, I didn’t slow down very much going into the creek. Because I didn’t slow down, I splashed into the creek with a belly flop, almost submerging my whole body underwater. I got up quickly, then began to climb up the mud wall. I clawed at that wall like it was my enemy. I avoided the rope, even though it actually wasn’t that busy at the moment. I was too focused to switch strategies. We continued to run on, passing many fans, their cheers a chaotic blur. We passed through the second part of the creek, which was not nearly as deep. It was only about mid-shin to knee level, so I made my way through just fine. We ran all over the vineyard. I wasn’t feeling too awful. I was just caught up in the thrill of the race! We made it to the cornfields, and there were lots of small hills. I ran through them staring at the ground, and I kept seeing the same pair of shoes. For some strange reason, I kept staring at those shoes. People do crazy things when they run, you could say! Anyways, I passed the person wearing those shoes. We ran away from the corn fields and under a bridge. I was coming closer and closer to the finish. I was struggling to continue, but I would not quit! I pushed through the pain, but by the end of the race, I was just done. I saw the final hill in front of me. It was one of the biggest hills on the course, if not the biggest, and it was definitely the most difficult after

This will help me in the future to remind me to be happy, and grateful for the opportunity to run as I do in my life. This race changed my point of view of “opportunity” to try and do things right the first time, and if I don’t, then forget about it because I can’t change it. Before this race, I felt as if I failed, everything was over, and the disappointment would never leave. For example, if I ran a terrible race, with a terrible time, I couldn't stop thinking about it for WEEKS. Now, I let it go and forget it ever happened. This also keeps me humble, by not letting me think about my accomplishments for too long, because there’s always a new opportunity. Walt Disney once

My throat was parched instantly. Knowing that I had to stay with Shelby. Repetitively telling myself that I could do it, I have to. Once I arrived at the mile mark before I knew it. I was searching all over but I could not see Shelby. Second guessing that she was ahead of me, I worked even harder. The wind was strong and the air was dirty. For a minute I was thinking that I could not do it; however, I changed that thought quickly after I saw the finish line. Pushing the hardest I had ever pushed. Noticing that I had made it, I placed 81st in

I ran as fast as I could, I was tired but knew that I had to keep going. The sun shone down ferociously making it very bright and torrid. I felt sweat drip from just above my brow into my right eye. My eye began to get a burning sensation just as I turned the corner. My muscles ached, but I knew I had to shift into overdrive and pick up the pace. I started to run faster and faster. I began to get the feeling like I was about to throw up, but knew that I couldn’t stop now. I continued to sprint to the finish, and just as I crossed the finish line I looked to the clock and noticed that I set a new PR. The feeling of happiness that swelled up inside me took me back to the practice on the tuesday of the previous week: That day it was hot as fire

We were out for vengeance, and as the first heat came to a close, the three remaining teams lined up. Our team was Brandon Reid starting off the blocks, Isaiah running the second leg, me securing the third, and Bawa trying to end the race in strong fashion. As I loosened my legs up, the gun sounded, and I watched Brandon get off to a quick start. Before I knew it, Isaiah was 10m behind me and was ready to pass the baton. As I grabbed the baton from Isaiah, I noticed I was a few meters behind a kid from Avon. Never, ever again I thought. My legs planted and exploded off the ground in a simultaneous motion. I was like a cheetah chasing after a gazelle. As the wind blew through my cleanly cut hair, I began to close the gap between myself and the man ahead. In the closing 20m, I tried my hardest to catch the Avon kid, but I couldn’t. As I passed the baton to Bawa, my heart sank. As my chin dipped to my chest so I could only notice the ground, I realized I did not run the fastest 100m. At the end of the race, we finished second behind Avon, again. My arms tensed and my stomach dropped. Losing to Avon was the worst possible ending to my track season. However, my head would be picked up by a more important event that followed days after the Founders League Tournament.

I approached that year’s conditioning with a pessimistic attitude and wondered why was I doing this when I’m not going to run in meets. Just like the year before, I assumed that conditioning and practicing would be obsolete. I braced myself for another disappointing year. Every winter day after school, I braced myself against the cold with a hope that this season would be different. I went into the first day of practice feeling in shape and optimistic. But just like freshman year, there was no preparing for the ache and suffering of the first practice. With the season approaching, our coach timed us to determine who would run in meets. Our coach divided us into groups based on how fast she thought we were. When a senior saw that I was in the first, slower group, he said that I belonged in the faster group with them. Hearing that compliment from a senior changed my outlook on the season might go. As the first track meet approached, we split off into groups so we could perfect our technique based on the event we were running. As I was jogging around the track wondering whether this year was going to be the same as last year, our coach summoned me over to perfect baton handoffs for the 4x100 meter relay. As the realization hit me that I was going to compete, I thought, “I’m not going to relinquish this spot because I labored profusely to attain

Suddenly, with no warning, two runners of the grade below me pulled ahead. I couldn’t believe it! They were a year younger than me, yet they were faster. However, I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch up even at my best. As I neared the 100 meter line, I started to convert into a jogging pace and got my bearings. I allowed myself to breathe again and relax but still trying to run my best. I was in 3rd place with the two kids in front of me about 50 meters away. I cleared my mind and just concentrated on breathing; taking a deep breath in through my nose, and letting it all out of my mouth. I was starting to feel the fatigue in my muscles and my legs are crying for rest, but I refused. I started hearing heavy breathing noises and loud footsteps behind me, steadily catching up. I risked a peek to my left and was horrified and yet surprised that my chubby classmate was right on my heels. I was not going to be beaten again and into 4th place. I pushed myself harder and pumped my legs and arms with renewed energy. All my blood rushed to my head and I felt like a locomotive cutting through the cold air. As we ran around the bend, we were head to head and trying to outdo each other. He