Fiasco Finish Descriptive Writing

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 heard crowds around me cheering names I didn’t recongnize. I looked down at my feet, running spikes on them, and turf beneath them. When someone yelled my name my trance is broken. The voice told me to lead the stretches. Was not until then did I actually realize I am running first leg at the 2013 Penn Relays Carnival.

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

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

I knew the first couple weeks of practice were going to drag on, but I was ready for whatever workout coach was going to throw at me. Then came meets and the fun really started. Don't get me wrong, I was definitely feeling the nerves, but it didn’t stop me. The first indoor meet was at Buena Vista College and I was in the open 400, the one race I had been training for. I was so anxious to see what my time was going to be that I was shaking. I just kept telling myself, “This is what you worked for. Everything that you have worked for starts showing now.” I ended up getting my PR and winning the race. It was the first of many heart pounding meets. As the season went on, every meet started to count even more and I was getting frustrated because my time wasn’t getting better. After crying to my dad one night after a meet, I realized that what did matter is that I wasn't getting worse either. I was maintaining my time and that counted for something. A couple weeks later I was standing in my blocks at the district meet trying to maintain my nerves. After the hardest 400 of my life, I ended up making it to state and I could not have been

I remember going to sleep at 1:30 am, because I was working on my posters, and I remember spending 7 hours on a Saturday to brainstorm and write my speech. Eventually my hard work and dedication paid off when I won. On the other hand I remember that training for my 5k was much worse. On the side of being trained by the “Devil” himself (Coach Acuna) I was also training on my separate time with my dad. I wanted to quit every day and I didn’t want to run twice, but eventually I started to improve and I began to feel good. I realized that I could accomplish everything and anything I wanted 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.

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

It was just a typical afternoon swim practice and the regional swim meet was almost here. We’ve been training and practicing all season for this event. Every afternoon after school we would go to the YMCA pool to practice. I’ve been working on long distance swimming, such as the freestyle 200 and 500. The night before the regional swim meet arrived, and I happened to get sick. I felt weak, stiff, and exhausted. There was no way I could do well in any event that was going to occur the next day. I took some medicine and had some tea to try and feel better. Nothing really helped. All there was to do was hope. The next day arrived… feeling sick and weak, I went through the day until it was time to go to the swim meet. As we warm up, I began getting a headache and feeling worse, yet felt like I still possessed the capability to carry on with endurance. When the first race came I felt nervous. The whistle blew and I was the last one to dive in from the block. Pacing myself slow and steady, I caught up only making third place. I felt like I could’ve gotten first place if I wasn’t sick, but I was glad that a team member got it instead of another school. The last race came. This was the most important race for me all season; I couldn’t screw up. We got up onto the blocks and once we heard the whistle we dove in. It was terrible. Everyone was in front of me and I was in last for at

Cross-country season my sophomore year is one I will never forget! It all started back in August 2013 at cross-country camp. It was my first year attending camp because unfortunately we could not have it my freshman year. Coach Martin had a “late” start to practice because of a few issues with the construction of the turf. Luckily, Martin still coached us and still coaches us to this very day! As camp began we became pretty close as a team. This was the first time Coach had seen his team have a strong bond of friendship. Even though camp was really fun, it sure was a tough week! The week consisted of running twice a day and eating lots and lots of food. By the end of the week, your legs felt like bricks.

Alone on my first Triathlon I was nervous, anxious, scared, and sick to my stomach. But I knew I had trained and I knew deep down inside that I had what it took to be a triathlete. I talked my way through each phase, (and after 3 I still pep talk myself and talk to God for the whole race) and at the end of each race I think; Hey, that wasn’t that bad after all, when can I do this again.

Many miles away and already in Diagon Alley, a tall platinum-haired wizard in black robes stood with his arms crossed over his chest and was glaring at an equally tall yet rabbity-looking wizard with dark hair. Neither of the young men seemed to blink as several moments passed.

It was cold, too cold I thought as I reached the top of the mountain of ice. There was a house… No, a mansion made of bricks and in front of that there was a large, wide gate. Almost large enough to fit a whole herd of elephants in, large windows with gray bricks that outlined the huge building surrounding the house two on each wall, and a tall and very wide door like something you’d see on a large giant castle. I looked around wondering if should walk inside, when a roar interrupted my thoughts.

I remember it like it just happened. The beginning of my freshman year, tragedy had struck my family. Hitting a tree at 60 mph left my brother broken. His hip, ribs, and neck were broken. A cloud of grey and sorrow engulfed my family. A small crack the size of a pencil allowed bright rays of sunshine shine through that cloud delicately. Those rays gave me a new hope. One particular ray of sunshine has a name. His name is Marcus.

Being unable to finish that race changed my entire perspective on diabetes. I realized that I may not always be able to control my diabetes, but I will always be able to control my response to it. After this incident, I started carrying juice while I ran in order to treat low blood sugars right away. Not finishing that race made me a stronger person, allowing me to realize that my diabetes does not define me; rather, I define myself through my actions and