If I Don T Run-Personal Narrative

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.

However this was not always so. The thought of it almost created a sense fear or anxiety in me; I did not enjoy it whatsoever. I definitely wasn’t good at it either. In middle school the most dreaded day of PE was always the day we had to run the mile. Every student plotting a way to get out of it. In sixth grade I finished second to last with a time of fifteen minutes. Embarrassed and angry I kept to myself. Everyone was comparing times with their friends but I would’ve rather died than tell anyone my time. I learned something thing from this extremely embarrassing fail; sometimes in life you need to just laugh at yourself, move on, and better yourself. And that's

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

It was a perfect night for a run. Around 70 degrees with a slight breeze. I wait in my Dark Blue Mini Cooper as my watch gets my location. Feet trembling with adrenaline, much like an addict, I’m itching for a run. With a loud “BEEP,” I know the smartwatch is ready and I’m off. As time progresses, I start running faster, faster, and faster. The whispering wind would flow through my hair as I make my way down the trail. Bliss. I notice my surroundings, trees, deer, and the bright light of my headlamp. Chills go up my spine every so often. All I hear is the pitter pattering of my red running shoes and the occasional rustle of bushes. After what feels like the shortest moment ever, my half-hour run is over and I sigh with relief.

“It’s about that time son,” said my father on an early Saturday morning. “Are you ready to run? “With a blunt and confident stare I responded, “I’ve made it this far, what is there to lose?” On the car ride to the stadium, I could feel chills running up and down my spine. I had never ran at a track meet with this many participants and doubt began to creep in my head. My father, while driving could see the doubt and uneasiness in my eyes and he calmed me by telling me to “Cheer up kid. I’m taking you to a track meet, not to jail.” Usually my dad is in a very serious frame of mind when it comes to me running and he always expected me to treat it serious, but when he jokingly told me that, I knew it was time to cool down and relax.

I had the stamina, I was fast, and I had the times. It was the day of the competition and my event was called. Only two ran at a time, meaning there was a winner and a loser, and I knew I didn’t want to be the loser. When I heard the name of the girl I was running up against, I thought it sounded familiar, but due to the stress I forgot about it. I was already set up in the block, when the judge said “On your marks, get set…” and the gun went off. I was off to the first 100 meters when I started losing feeling on my left knee. I knew that I was moving, but not fast enough, the other girl was beating me. I decided to pull harder with my right knee, I had never moved that fast. It felt like nothing could stop me, I had just 25 meters left of the race when I stopped feeling my right knee. I just told myself, “This is your only chance. You can do it! There is no pain!” I had gotten to the finish line, all I felt was the asphalt on my face, my legs had failed me. I couldn’t feel anything on my lower body. I had never been more scared in my life. What if I had lost all of my chances just because I hadn’t listened? Would I be able to walk again? My coach ran into the track and pulled me up. I started moving my legs but they still felt numb. My parents rushed me to the car, but I didn’t want them to worry, so I just told them that I was exhausted.

A majority of people I have spoken to despise running; the activity inducing a great deal of pain and wasting time are common reasons I hear. For me however, running has always been a part of my identity and it shaped me as the person I am today. Whether it comes to intense races or exciting games of tag, I feel a part of me glistens with joy whenever I put on my running shoes and get my feet moving. My interest from running goes all the way back from elementary school.

Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest as you put all of your strength into that first rush of energy. The air blows by you and everything around you seems to fade away, and all you can see is that someone has passed you. You try to hold yourself back slightly knowing that you will need a little extra for the final stretch. The finish line is quickly approaching, but you can’t help but feel that you haven’t given it all yet. You feel as if you must give more, you have to give more. Done. The race is finally over and you see that others have given more than you but you can’t help but feel proud of yourself since you know that you couldn’t have given any more than you

I turned the corner, and there I saw it: the finish line. Flanked on both sides with rows of spectators cheering and screaming, it waited before me. Thank God this race was over. I have never run so hard in my life! Yet I knew in the back of my mind that this was one of my worst races I had ever run. This was the race we had all been training for. This was what we’ve been looking forward to for the past year, and we blew it.

It’s nights like this that I have to do everything I can to stop running. The crickets in the far-off pines call to me, singing enticing tales of adventure as the grinning moon lights the way along the gentle slope of the highlands. Even the breeze urges me forward, nipping at my ankles and using the swell of grassy waves to carry me farther

For years, I ran alone. I didn't want to hold anyone else up, be held up by anyone else, or have to worry about aligning schedules to run with someone. I also like to play it by feel, and if I'm not feeling up to a run one morning, I don't do it..... after all, I run for enjoyment.

I looked down at the ground that seemed thousands of miles down. It felt as if my throat was closing in. Look up Serenity, you need to calm down and breathe. I told myself. I looked up and tried to relax. I looked up to see the metal cable that I was going to be connected to. I really hope this doesn’t snap on my way down. I thought gripping my yellow harness even tighter. I was about to go on the ride of my life on a long zipline in Kentucky.

Prologue: I have to keep running. The pain in my body is infuriating but I need to keep running because if I don’t they’ll catch me and if they catch me they’ll do things of unspeakable horror. I can still hear the screams of Giuseppe inside the bunker it terrifies me to even muster the thought of what they might do to me but that doesn’t matter right now, I need to keep on going. ”Dort ist er schnell, bevor er entflieht !!!” They’ve found me. Behind me I hear the sounds of feet hitting the dirt chasing me up the mountains of Monte Grappa, I start running even faster now, even though i'm past my limit the cuts, gashes, wounds, and bruises I received from my previous torture hurt more than I ever could’ve imagined. I wonder what's better, the

I carry a knot of dread in my stomach. The walk to the starting line feels like when I am preparing my dinner and make a misstep with the knife only to watch it slowly hurtle towards my fingers. The anticipation of pain sends shivers down my spine like nothing else can. The difference between racing and knife accidents is that I have a very real ability to not run. No one told me it would be a good idea to start running or to keep doing it, but I just can not stop.

I knew that this would happen, but I still laced up my spikes and ran this race.