I Was A New Coach

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.

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!!

I didn’t stop running; I kept this up for what felt like thirty seconds at least before the overwhelming urge to cough stopped me. I attempted to grip the side of the wall before I keeled over and violently choked up more blood. Shaking, I stretched my arms out around me, praying that I would find something in this seemingly empty room that could give me some kind of relief. Something that would take away that

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.

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.

I turned in my form for Running Club by the end of the week and was ready to start running. When training began, we ran a few laps around the school and I noticed as the runs came to be longer, I would become tired sooner. Miss. Ames noticed and ran alongside me. During the runs, we would discuss other topics which would distract me from thinking about my performance in the run. Later on, the coaches would time the runners to see our performance. Being timed increased my irritation with my performance; however, Miss. Ames reminded me that I was making progress regardless of what my

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

Then my heart was beating more than 20 miles per hour. I went off to do my last tumbling pass, I did a roundoff back-handspring layout-full. In my head i was saying “C’mon stick it!” Then when I finally hit the floor, my feet gently met one another and the floor, my feet did not move one inch . I did not believe it, I had

As we all headed outside to the football stadium, tension started to come through my whole body. My legs felt stiff and my hands felt as if water was running through my fingers. I was not prepared to walk across the stage. We practiced hundreds of times that morning but, it was just too hot to concentrate on what we were told to be doing. So much was going through my mind like, “What if I trip as I walk across the stage?” “Who all from my family is here?” “What am I going to eat afterwards?” I was starving because I had not eaten since 8:00 that morning. I stepped a foot onto the track circle and images went through my mind. Drops of sweat ran down my face and I tried not to look at the audience to keep myself from getting more nervous. As we stepped

Breathe in, breathe out. My lungs rattle as I gasp for air in the humid afternoon. The sun beats down on my forehead as sweat drips onto the blistering tar. My jersey sticks to my skin as I clench my fists. Breathe in, breathe out. My legs flood with lactic acid, but I march ahead. Coach’s voice interrupts the pounding of my feet, urging me to fight on. I feel a sudden burst of adrenaline rush through my body and I drive my legs up the hill. Breathe in, breathe out. Midway, my vision begins to blur. Numbness diffuses across my arms until I’m left paralyzed. I realize my blood glucose is dangerously low but I still push forward. My body stiffens and I collapse onto the dehydrated grass beneath me. I stare up at the sky and see the sun begin

I walk to the shed. I’m already panting from walking over there. Mrs. Gavello blows her whistle, that means to start the running. I’m now running the quarter lap, and it’s actually not that bad. But then the pain starts kicking in, I can feel it in my stomach, once I started the second lap. I’m sweating so much, I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like for the third lap. The mile feels like forever. I am about to finish my second lap, going on to that last lap. Something tragic then happens. I almost faint. I felt so weak. I just decide to keep running, the pain that I felt had never felt so good before! I don’t know how to explain it, the pain just feels good. I start sprinting, pouring every ounce of energy out of my body just to finish this

My legs struck the ground, piercing the track with every step they took. My eyes blurred out the crowd and all the other athletes standing on either side of me, behind me, in front me. My ears and mind cleansed themselves of all the screams and fears and doubts, and I ran like I had never run before. It felt so surreal, almost as if I was in a dream—almost as if I wasn’t running at all. I recall the mere 10 seconds ago where my legs had trouble calming down, and not wobbling with every step I took. The sounds of the other runners behind me were undetectable, and in that moment it was just me running against myself. I reared around the corner, “Only 50 meters to go”, and that’s when it actually hit me—I was running. Was it really almost over? I really already ran around the track and had not even noticed I even started? The finish line was so close now, vibrant white promising letters sprawled across its surface— 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 – one. I saw our last relay runner waving her arm frantically in the air so I could see her—it was crunch time. I took on speed as my feet yearned to pierce hard into the surface of the ground, all the way across the finish line, and struck the baton into the next runners awaiting fingers, and she zoomed ahead. My feet took me off to the side, recalling what I had just done, that it was just 30 seconds of my life and now it’s over. I

It was during a soccer practice where the team had to condition (a new requirement the coach had incorporated into the practice) where countless sprints, changes in directions, push-ups, and crunches would quickly tire the team. Not surprisingly, after a few sets of sprinted “zig-zags,” pushups, and crunches we looked extremely drained almost as if we had run out of energy to even give the least bit of effort. Some were already lying to the side gasping for breath while others felt sick to their stomach. Some were at the point of vomiting while only half of us attempted to persevere. It seemed endless. Even I, considered the most conditioned, was having such a hard time keeping on. It came to the final stretch when my coach started encouraging

The first practice the coach had the guy’s run an easy four mile run, and I tried to join them ,and keep in mind I think it shouldn’t be that hard. But that was the longest and most brutal four miles I ever experienced in my life. After and during the run I felt like I was going to throw up and thank god I didn’t but it was tuff. My legs felt like they were nearly going to fall of when I got home. I still went back