Cornertone Day 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 soon snapped out of this state, hastily trying to stretch my muscles, which were cramping because I was so anxious. I heard the announcer yell “Ready, Set, Go!” followed by the pop of the starting pistol. Startled I took off running as fast as I could momentary forgetting to pace myself. I knew I would run out of energy if I didn’t do something to correct myself, so I slowed down and matched my breath to my steps. This way I could get an adequate amount of air into my lungs for aerobic respiration. By doing this I cruised through the first mile of the

Each step was more difficult than the last, my breathing became a fast-paced panting, my legs reluctant maintain my long stride. Doubts settled themselves in my mind, reminding me that I had never run long distance before, taunting me as I willed my legs to keep going. I had set out to own my run, but now I couldn’t bear the thought of enduring the rest of my last mile and a half.

Soon, the exhaustion became routine and it took no effort to change into my running gear and welcomed the continuity. Before I knew it, I began to wake up before my alarm clock and race to the door and begin my run as I could. With my fighting spirit, I was able to push myself to adapt to different types of situations and start to accept them. I motivated myself to endure the pain I had gone through and came out to be a better runner. If I hadn’t pushed myself at this time, I would remain in the same situation and dread running even a mile.

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

Right on pace. I took a glance behind me just to see 3 or 4 runners right on my tail. I imagined them as a hungry pack of wolves chasing a rabbit. Except I was the rabbit. I started to pick up the pace until I saw the home stretch. The freezing cold wind was starting to get to me. I couldn't feel my hands, even though I had gloves on. The only obstacle standing between me and about 6 runners ahead of me was a gigantic hill. I charged up it,

A jagged pain arcs across my chest as I take in a breath. My legs grind up one after the other, barely moving but still pushing me forward. The runners ahead of me continue to press on, legs becoming a blur as they widen the gap. Eyes glancing up for a split-second, I find a primitive strength rising up within me, something that says No. You are not done yet. Throwing my arms higher and feeling my body ache even more, I set my gaze on a tree that lines the top of the hill, and I gradually increase the length of my strides, slowly but surely catching up with the group that was about to leave me behind. As we pound around the corner and begin to coast downhill, I release a small sigh of relief, despite my exhausted lungs. I may have won a battle, but the war continues, and we continue to

“Good Job keep going, you can do it, run run faster, you got this!” These were the words coming from the audience as I was finishing my last 100 meters in the cold, pouring, rain during sectionals. I was in second place in my heat and my heart was thumping and I couldn't see through the water stains on my glasses, but I heard someone someone breathing hard and their spikes hitting the track as they ran behind me and I knew I had to push even harder.I remembered the rough trading I had in practice and knew I could do it.

In the beginning I felt like I should just quit, but I thought, what was all that practice for then? So I kept running anyways. I passed a couple guys while we're going up and down, left and right. There were many people on the side cheering and even though they weren’t cheering for me, it helped me keep running. The run went by very quickly and the finish line came up in a flash. Many people around me started sprinting, but I felt like throwing up at that point. I slowed down, but then I heard my dad cheering on for me. I couldn't let him down, so I ignored the feeling of throwing up and sprinted. I kept on running passing a couple people, and it was over. I came in 19th place. I went to my dad disappointed for letting him

This race was one of the first examples from which I had learned the power and importance of hardwork and determination. As I was emerging my teenage years, it was one of the most important lessons I had taken from that period of time; one that I still apply to my daily life. I had only started running for a couple weeks, in which my team and I ran through the frigid early spring weather, the scorching heat, and the fatigue after a seven-hour school day. All the work put in by not only myself, but my teammates and coaches, revealed to me the power dedication, hardwork, and determination has to bring about incredible

By the time we had run to the hospital at our practice, I felt like I was going to die. My legs were as tired as a sloth. I had never been so tired in my life. I had an awful cramps that wasn't going away, and I felt like I was going to lose my lunch. I wanted to walk so badly. To help myself keep going I kept saying the following sentence in my head, “I will not stop, I will keep running, I will push myself as far as I can go.” With my ponytail waving in the wind, I kept going. When we got back to the school. I was exhausted and glad to be finished the run. If that was how hard we were going to go at all of our practices, I didn't know if I could do it. The cross country coach Mrs. Wrigley told me I should give it to weeks and I will start to notice a difference when I run, so I decided to keep going to the practices. I had set a goal for myself to continue to go to the practises for the next two weeks. It was hard but I persevered and push through

I hear coaches yelling their athletes place saying “16,17,18, you can’t let her get you!”. Leaping to get in the top twenty I cross the finish line, a voice in the speaker announced my name and place. “Vanessa Gonzalez eighteenth place!” my legs could not continue, a medical student asked for backup right before I passed out. I opened my eyes to the feel of cold towels and bags on my neck all the way down my body with people throwing water in my

Every step strained my burning muscles. I gasped for air as I sprinted down to the finish line. Sweat dripped down my face in the ninety degree heat. My eyes fixated on the runner in front of me. I leaped in front of her just as we passed the finish line, but all I could think of at that moment was, “Why am I doing this?”