Narrative Essay - I Kneel Down, On One Knee

Your first race has finally come. You climb onto the stepping block, and your legs are so unstable that you might as well just fall into

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 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

When assigned my first essay, “My Greatest Accomplishment,” I took time to brainstorm different ideas that defined me. The accomplishment that stood out the most to me was qualifying for State Track in four events on a sprained ankle. While writing this essay, I felt like a baby learning how to walk. My writing was unsteady and I took a few tumbles trying to get the paragraphs to flow. This reminded me of trying to run on my sprained ankle at the State-qualifying meet. However, like I finished the paper, I finished my events with qualifying times. I knew the essay would prove difficult, but I grew hopeful while writing because I knew I had numerous

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.

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.

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

The clamor of a gunshot resounds amongst the silent crowd; your feet bounce off the starting blocks, and with a sense of vigor you have never shown before. You soar toward the finish line, only to come in last place. At the end of the track meet, you are bequeathed a medal as a testament to your participation, and a reminder that although you lost you still get a trophy. As the year continues you accumulate a multitude of these awards; you decide that you should stop trying to improve your performance, because after all you still get rewarded when you lose. The track season comes to a close you're given a varsity letter for your participation, and from that moment on you begin to believe that even if you fail you deserve a reward. You go on to live a lackluster never reaching your full potential, and what more could someone ask from you especially since you participated. Toward the last years of your far from spectacular existence, you begin to question where your award for barely living life is, because after all you’ve been taught you always get a prize once you finish a race.

It was the afternoon of the Tri-County League Championship, or, as Coach Harkins called it, TCLs. Despite the usual mixture of sweat, puke, and sulfur in the air of Reggie Lewis Track and Athletic Center, there was an air of exhilaration. Everyone was excited because we got to leave school at 12:45 and we had practiced all week on the new track for this. My event, the 55 meter dash, was one of the first events. As I was warming up with the other sprinter on my team, I couldn’t help but feel nervous. That day was my last chance to qualify for states, and I needed to shave almost a tenth of a second off of my time.

The home stretch is about 120 feet away, and we’re giving it all we have. My legs are kicking so fast I’m barely in the saddle. I feel like I’m forgetting to breathe, as my breaths are far and few between. Finally, we get to the timer, and the race is over. I round him off to get him to slow down and eventually stop. Dust flies everywhere as my supportive family cheers. Anxiously a waiting our time, we catch our breaths. Finally, the announcement is called: “20.13 seconds for Marissa and Shyster.” I give Shyster a huge hug around his

I had gradually slowed my pace, the last girl on our team was slowly catching up to me. I had told myself I was at least going to be in front of her but my legs would not listen instead they got heavier. She was now in front of me, and telling me to catch up to her, of course I was trying to catch up to her but my legs just could not go any faster. I was insulting, bashing, making fun of myself for not going any faster, and for having a limp in my running. I wanted to walk but I didn't especially when I got to the part where everyone was cheering, they motivated me to keep going they were right before the long hill. I was telling myself I had made it this far, I just couldn't stop not I know I had to walk up the hill to be able to continue my race. I got to the top of the hill and decided to run down it. That it had become a nightmare. Limping fast, it hurt, feeling heavy going down the very steep hill. I felt the force of gravity trying to take me down. I was down. I was done going down the hill and I started to hear everyone cheering so I slowed down even more to be able to get more energy to be able to go faster infront of everyone when I turned to get out of the woods everyone was hollering and cheering us down especially the limping decorah girl. Their was a girl behind me from a different school but she was giving her fullest now to the finish line. The finish line

Focusing on the course that lay ahead, chills slithered down my back. The shot of the reverberating gun fired and I charged with my heart pounding like the sound of a drum. With my arms pumping and legs moving vigorously onto the course, I was the average runner in battle with my mind. My teammates leaped and hopped with excitement as I bolted; I pictured my body gracefully drifting through the air while the world stood silent. The last grueling hundred meters, I thrusted my body to the end of the finish line while the other runners stood in utter awe of my amateur performance, I flailed to the ground. Staring up at the sky, as I sat breathless and fatigued, engulfed in deep thought. I could feel the wind in my face and the dirt in my mouth. I was swept away by the calm before the storm, the exhilaration, the immense amount of heart each individual had, but mostly the passion for running.

Beads of sweat slip silently off my skin. I feel my heart steadily thumping, a soft hum, and my stomach clenched in unforgiving knots. Every muscle, tendon and ligament quivers in the stillness of anticipation. Finally, the thundering base of the gunshot sounds, and my body bursts off the starting line. Long strides cut through the air, bouncing off the balls of my feet. My arms pump to keep pace, adrenaline rushing throughout the race.

I came to the first day of summer practice; I wore cheer shoes, a bow, and a full face of makeup. That day my coach looked at me and told me to run five miles, I thought I was going to actually die. By the end of the practice I had thrown up multiple times and repeatedly told myself never again. I had mentally and physically already given up, so I thought. During the next three weeks of summer practice I ran on my own, day after day of agonizing pain. I've never been one to give up, when things start to get tuff, that usually means I just have to get tougher. I came back the first day of actual practice ready for whatever was about to be thrown at me, again I was told to run five miles. This time I could actually keep up, I stayed with the girls on the team the entire time. The first race took place nearly three weeks later at our own home course, the only goal I had at the time was to not get last place. Everyone lined up at the starting line, anxiously swaying back and forth waiting for the wretched sound of the gun to go off. The gun finally went off and the race had begun. I started off in second place next to the fastest girl on our team, who was also the girl who had asked me to join

It is my first soccer practice of my last year in high school. After five minutes of incessant running and a collision with the goalkeeper, I fall to the ground. Screaming in sheer agony and totally bewildered, I try to stand but sense something is wrong. The atmosphere does not feel right. My teammates gathering around me. My coaches yelling for the physical trainer. Teammates and staff gazing at my leg with puzzled expressions. I muster the strength to pull my upper body high enough to view my leg and I see it. My leg, covered and dripping in blood. My skin totally eradicated from the bone sticking out of my shin. I attempt to extend my shaking hands towards my leg, but they instantly give way. Drop. My own arms could not withstand the immense