Creative Writing: The Washington Cross Country

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

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!!

Through Fox Run, I have learned to respect teammates, coaches, opponents, and even myself. I learned to honor coaches and referee decisions because of their authority. I respected one of our trainers, Linda Hamilton who retired from the U.S. women’s national team, gave so much effort, time, and her ability to see us achieve our personal goals. I learned to appreciate teammates because their

"Wake up, partners," the trail boss, James called. I sleepily looked up , shivered, and saw I was the only one not up. "Here," James said, giving me the horses' bridles and saddles. "Take these and get the horses ready. We have a long day today." I groaned in reply and set up the horses for the day's long drag. I was the horse wrangler and this was my everyday job but I still couldn't get use to the idea of waking up before the sun and working. We drove the cattle into open plains against the winter's cold wrath.

Greater lawrence, pass him, Sprint. So i finish on the floor dying couldn’t breath properly so i deep breaths and needed water my mouth was dry. After the race was over needed time to process like what happen in the beginning i knew we’re going to face greater lowell next week needed to be prepared for the time being. I needed to fix on my start so i don’t have to be the hero. I need to work on is my breathing it didn’t go so well and how to keep a pace with someone so i won’t lose the guy and cost the team some points if i do that well i’m gold. I needed to workout my legs so they won’t hurt during in races. The most important i have to do is keep my body calm and mind during the race next week. I knew in my next race it’s not all about having speed and it was mostly having a good mentality. So i work on a one week later race against greater lowell again i have done better which i did before at least i had the knowledge of the course to back that up it was a great

Cresting the hill, I struggled with my ragged breathing and the pain in my hips. I focused on my rhythm I in order to keep going. My running shoes slapped the pavement as onlookers expressed their encouragement with cowbells and cheers. I wondered again why I put myself into the situation by choice. As I passed mile 13 I remembered. I felt my eyes water and my legs shake as the finish line approached. Marines in uniform stood ready with medals and smiles as they encouraged us in our own hardships to rise above the pain and finish. The announcer spoke my name but I hardly heard him as a medal slipped over my head and I marveled at the weight, not of the medal, but the accomplishment which seemed impossible for the past three hours. I finished in 3 hours, 7 minutes. It was not an Olympic record and I detested running at mile two, but I did it.

Women gradually were overcoming disadvantages they had dealt with for years and years. Now that women could participate in sports and when they did they exceeded, higher expectations were slowly becoming a norm. Faster times were expected for women’s running events such as eleven to twelve seconds. Higher and longer heights were set for long jump, triple jump, and high jump. Long jump went from five feet to six feet three inches, triple jump went from thirty to thirty- four feet, and high jump went from four feet six inches to six feet. .Throwing further distances went from fifteen feet to thirty feet rapidly. These events became increasingly difficult due to women proving their physical ability more and

This was our opportunity to do so, before we had to act as competitors and not companions. After catching up, we rushed out of the changing room and into the gym, planting ourselves on the polished floors, our knee high socks sliding with every move we made. We sat in silence as the coach, Mr. McBurney, approached us and informed us about how each practice would play out, and about how even if some of us did not make the team, we should all treat each other as if we are teammates.

It was time to go out to our exchange zones and set up our marks. My team said their last good lucks to each other and we departed to our zones. I could smell the fresh air and see the red track. As all the participants and I walked around the track, my stomach quickly refilled with butterflies. Finally, we had reached the third exchange zone where I set up my marks in lane eight. Then I did a few practice take offs and pretend handoffs. I looked over behind me to see a familiar face, Coach

“Now everybody turn to your left, now your right. I see, and you all see an abundance of members, but by the end of season this team will not be this big. Not because of my fault, but because of your own inability to want to work hard and improve. Some of you will finish this season and some of you will say, ‘I quit.’ You determine your fate. Welcome to the Monmouth-Roseville Cross Country team. I’m your coach Samuel, but you can call me Sam.” I had finally met my coach.

When I look down, all I observe is the color red on a rugged surface. Thin white lines separate me from my competition. I glance to my left. I glance to my right. I notice the various colored shirts alongside me. They all crave the finish line. I grasp the famous red and blue baton in my hands. No one knows my name or my story, the only article they identify is the number pinned on my Mahwah Jersey. We all restlessly stand in position while hundreds of people fill the stadium. The gun is raised, I look up to the sky and pray for wings on my feet, which is the same wish I have for every race. The gunshot sounds through the air and in a blink of an eye it’s over. It's not when you finish or what towns you beat, it's about, the experience you share with those three other girls waiting on you and the baton.

The woman only said those words when a girl messed up a move and the entire team was punished for it. “Run it” she said, and every girl shed a tear for the sweat that was inevitable, the shortness of breath that was impending, and the soreness that was inescapable. “Run it”, and she felt like a deer in the headlights, “run it” and she felt her breath catch in her throat, “run it” and she smelt the fear screeding off of the other girls, a scent she could not compare to any worldly thing, “run it” and she felt like dying. As the girls ran she could hear every inhale and exhale, she heard the hard and fast breathing, every huff and puff, every wheeze and cough. She could feel the harsh sun bearing down her back and the sweat dripping out of every pore. She could taste the metal in her mouth from her braces, the three day old dental work she had gotten, started rubbing against the inside of her mouth and she could feel the shedding

August 2010 in New York City on the weathered track of Columbia University during my first Central Park Track Club practice, I had the privilege of meeting four incredible young ladies. It was here where we would train together through the temperamental northeastern weather running lap after lap filled with blood, sweat, and tears, adopting the name Lesleigh’s Ladies. We formed a bond that continues to grow as the years pass. The group is made up of Heather, Lisa, Maureen, Joy, and myself. The name of our quintet stems from a relay race that we raced together, paying homage to our awe inspiring coach, Lesleigh. When Lesleigh’s Ladies get together they become gatherings that outshine all others filled with exciting travels, a plethora of laughter

In the film “She’s the Man,” Viola is a talented soccer player whose high school has just cut the women’s soccer team. As a result, her and her teammates immediately ask the coach of the boy’s soccer team if they can tryout for their team. When the coach laughs at her question, she says, “Coach, c’mon! You know that we’re good enough!” He then replies back with “you’re all excellent players, but girls aren’t as fast as boys, or strong, or as athletic. It’s not me talking. It’s scientific fact. Girls can’t beat boys. It’s as simple as that.” At this moment, a few boys from the team walk in to join the conversation. When the coach tells them that the girls want to join the team, the boys all break out in laughter.

There still was a belief that women were too frail physically and mentally to participate in intense competition like Olympics. However, in 1932, Mildred “ Babe” Didrikson disproved this belief by winning two Olympic gold medals and one silver medal in track and field. She had also won every golf tournament she competed in. Her great victories influenced the acceptance of