Cranshaw In The Story Of Jason Reynolds 'Castle Ghost'

This chapter explains the details of the start of Louie Zamperini’s distance running career. It started when he found out that his house key worked for the back door of Torrance High School’s gym. Eventually he was found out and dragged off to the principal’s, where he was banned from joining any extracurricular activities. When Louie’s brother, Pete heard this, he went to the principal, dragging their mother along for authority, to protest this decision. Finally, the school allowed Louie to join sports in 1932. After that, Pete began pressuring Louie to put his time an energy into something less ‘illegal’ than stealing, like running. Even though he looked like the only boy in his class that could run, Louie was weakened from his round

In physical education we were put to do the mile I was always second to last if not last I wasnt made fun of but I didnt really good about myself. As the years went on I was still fat couldn’t do anything until sophomore year of high school is where it all changed. I remember it quite clearly as if it was yesterday I was sitting in my math class when one of classmates had large number pinned to his bag and a uniform on that hadn’t seen before. That's when I got curious and asked what sport was all this for he then explained it was for cross country and that I should join it would be fun. It turns out that the season was about to end so it was to late to join so I had to wait for next year so I did. I went my junior in the summer since that's when they practiced and ran for the first time. After this first run I thought I was going to literally die and didn't want to this any more and to top it off all the guy runners who I thought that were slow beat one by one. This is where I decided I wasn't going to be last or lose a race to anyone. I practiced the whole year and did track top it off. Now the summer of my senior year was very motivational since I got up early ran and did this everyday till school started to be the best of my high school. Well the season would begin and I was breaking my school records and receiving medals from invitationals and

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

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

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

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 conference meet was upon us. I was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The tension between the runners soared as we lined up at the starting line. I took a few deep breaths, anticipating the gun. I had a nerve racking deep inside. Bang! The gun went off and I took off stumbling over people, shoving, fighting for space. I was breathing hard already, pushing up the first hill. There was a straight away after the hill. I was afraid to get passed, so I kept my pace with the first pack. Michael, who had tripped over the back of my shoe before the first hill, had caught back up. As the first mile came around, I heard determined coaches exclaiming our mile splits.

When I started track and middle I never knew what track was or how it even worked but I needed a sport that I could do. Even though I would have people from my middle school who would try to discourage me from running and even call me slow and the process but I continue to go through with track. But those people that talk and say they were going stay and track but didn't and I stayed and continue running and learn how to use the words they called to me to discourage to fuel my running to where I was winning medals and showing it in school. Then between eight grade to tenth grade I begin to have problem with my hip and which cause me to slow my time down but I still stayed in the sport. Even switching from different high school was tiring

Many activities I participate in require serious commitment. Most notably, I am the captain of the Cross Country team and on the varsity Track team here at Brookfield East. To be at peak performance, I must train every day. Although running is difficult, it is how I “seize the day.” To get to where I am now, it took countless hours and substantial dedication. Now I am at the end of the road, all the time I put into acheiving my goal was not in vain. I have become faster than I ever was before and have lead my teamates to do the same as we pushed each other and met with success. The demands of race also require a straightforward mindset focused on competing. The difficulties that were tolerated during the training and race are turned

Yet life is strange. Once again, almost expected, I successfully became the tailender in my first track meet. It was a cloudy afternoon, I lied on the central lawn of the asphalt sport ground with my throat full of stifling anxiety and the taste of bitter blood. The soft grasses under me turns into a blanket of pins and needles when I heard other teammates passed by talking about their places in events, and I started to remorse bitterly about why would I humiliate myself one more time with the practical experience, covered my face with my blanket to hide my Buffoonery, till the coach

I am a runner. One who strives for greatness at every moment and doesn’t give in when things get tough. I have aspirations, dreams, and goals which I will stop at nothing to achieve. Unfortunately for me, the life of a runner is filled with challenges and setbacks and only the best will learn to push through the adversity. My defining moment was the summer before my Junior year, 2016. I had set the goal of becoming All-State in Cross Country, meaning placing in the top 25 of all the runners in the state meet. This is, of course, a prestigious title to have, but I had faith in myself. For the first time in my life, I finally understood that preparation is key and if I fail to prepare, I should prepare to fail

Before I knew it the Starter pointed his gun high and fired. Across the starting line from both sides I felt runners storming off, as did I. I wanted to take a smart approach as I planned I would. The first mile quickly came up and I was advancing my place further to put myself into a positive position to finish. A mile and a half into the race overall I felt relaxed  and was still moving up passing runners. Next the second mile came up and I was starting to struggle as were some runners close by. Additionally hills were to come in the next mile and a half and I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I knew If I stopped then slowed down, I wouldn’t satisfy myself. Eventually I made it through the hills along with other struggling runners. The last part of the race came and as soon as I made it to where I had about 400m left, overall I gave it all I had in the moment so that I finished in excellent standing with myself. As I gave it all I could I passed a few runners in the process and as a few passed by as well. Finally, after several minutes of trying to catch my breath I finally

“Come on Kelvin,” my cousin shouted. He was from Tukes and was running in the meet to. I ran past the stands entering my third lap. 1 lap, wait, 2 laps. I started picking up speed. I looked behind me curly brown kid was about 15 meters behind me. I slowed down a little as I rounded the second curve. “Let’s go Kelvin!” my mom shouted from the bleachers. I was getting tired. I breathed a little harder as I ran.

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

There seems to be an inherent genetic trait inside competitive athletes, ironmen alike. As soon as the competition is over, there is an insatiable urge to get right back to the training table to improve performance. This can be an especially troublesome thing to avoid if the race results did not meet expectations.