Personal Narrative: Becoming A Runner

A significant challenge that I thought I wouldn't have accomplished was during our biggest track-and-field meet against all of the big schools around. It was the Shawnee invitational and one of our girls on the track team ended up messing up her ankle in her first relay race, which meant she couldn't run the 800m dash or the 1800m dash. I was the only one on the team who didn’t have four events because I ran the 4x2 and the 4x1 which was the main events at the invitational. So the coach asks me to fill in for her, my first thought was ‘oh Nooooooo, i can’t”. Not only did I just finish one on my relays and had to rest up for my next one, but also I was not ready to run only distant runs that day. I had only practiced for my events prior to the

I found my love for athletic activity at a young age. When I was 7 years old, I was enrolled in a YMCA summer program in Michigan. That is where it all started. My summer days were filled with various sport activities. Unfortunately, when I moved to California at the age of 10, I stopped playing sports for at least a year. However, during the rest of elementary school, throughout middle school, and in high school, I played different sports to figure out which one I liked best, which is now, Track & Field.

Although, I felt that quitting baseball was not the finish to my journey. This was the start of high school, with new opportunities staring at my face. Still passionate about sports, I anticipated finding another that intrigued me. At lunch one day, I told my friend about quitting baseball and how I wanted to try something new. I profoundly reminisce him saying, “If you want a challenge, come run track with me.” My knowlege of track wasn’t immense, but I knew that running was something I craved to do more of. Therefore, I needed execute this challenge for myself. After all of the years of playing baseball because of the expectations I thought were on me, I stepped out of my comfort

As a track runner, it is a necessity to be relaxed yet focused and determined. When I participate in track meets or even at practices, I receive a comforting warmth just by stepping onto the track. I feel as though burdens and worries temporarily lift from my shoulders. One may wonder how this can make someone content with their surroundings instead of nervous and uneasy based upon their environment and luckily for me this is an uncomplicated notion to explain. Unlike particular people, the track calms me and gives me a place to clear my head. I work relentlessly to achieve my goals, nevertheless it also gives me the clearance and space I need to effectively work my hardest whether it be a physical goal I am working to achieve

Cross country is a sport for the dreamers. This fact becomes abundantly clear once setting foot out on the course. The atmosphere created by this determination and drive is palpable. A defining difference that separates cross country from other team sports is the lack of ill will towards other teams, rivalries are present but they provide for a greater sense of competition between schools. When looking up sportsmanship in the dictionary it says “refer to cross country”. What creates such a friendly environment that many other sports seem to lack? It all goes back to the shared goal, to finish.

In elementary school I had stopped playing soccer because I hated running and I was unwilling to play any other sport my parents would ask me to try. Basketball and baseball seemed to have too many rules and were too complicated for me. At the end of the school year we would always get a flyer to join the Haymaker Swim Team. I hated this flyer because my mom would ask me every year to join the team and every year I said no. I was too nervous and unsure about joining a team with new people and experiences.

All throughout history people have been made to feel less than because the color of their skin. I encountered this all throughout high school running track. Track consists mainly of African Americans while a small portion consists of Caucasians for sprinting and field events. My high school coach was named Coach Lucas and he was African American. He constantly told me I wouldn’t be able to do well or that I should find a different sport because track is not a white woman’s sport. He also degraded me when I would do well at track meets by always saying I won because I got lucky and the other kids just had a bad day running.

As the sun’s nutritious rays fuel my body; sweat races down my back and accumulates into the threads of my cotton t-shirt. I peer over my neighborhood park fence and gaze over the spacious scenery. The track field was well in shape, free of small debris and ready for a test run and light jump activities in the sand-pit. Soon enough the high temperature fills my head, leaving me in a state of allusion. Images of my friends and I sporadically unfold in front of me and unto the track; as if being placed in a desert mirage. I feel a sense of peace and eagerness surge through my body, while the images continue to appear. Then, a whisper comes into the mix saying some sort of gibberish. Stepping a bit more cautiously then I regularly would I walked

We went into the doctor's office and it turns how that I have a rare bone disease. Osteochondral disease which is where blood doesn’t get to all my bones and they break. I went in for an MRI and I fractured my femur bone. They explained what the treatments were and it was surgery go figure! It wasn’t going to be a huge surgery well not this one at least. I ended up going through four surgeries in one year. My sports career ended my sophomore year. I ended up sitting on the bench my junior year and moving on my senior year. I am still going through physical therapy for a full year. It has taught me that when life gets hard you have to keep pushing through. My surgeries have made me a stronger person and now I know that know matter what life throws at you you just have to get right back up and keep pushing

Blue flashes of light left you temporarily blind as you ran from her. Her spears fired at you with the intent to kill. Your health is low, only 4 hp left. Then you felt it, A piercing pain in your thigh. You collapsed to the ground as the now bleeding wound rendered you unable to walk. You tried crawling but it was of no use, you could feel yourself bleeding out, and the sound of boot steps was getting closer. You gave up, knowing the end was near and there was hardly anything you could do about it. You felt the tip of Undyne's boot wedge it's self under you as she flipped you over.

To say that I've invested myself into the sport of Track and Field would be a gross understatement. I indulged myself in an almost cultic workout routine for what encompassed the majority of my sophomore years summer. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into my training for one of my most anticipated seasons of Track and Field yet. With my regiment beginning at 10:00am and ending at 3:00pm everyday for almost 5 months, I felt more invested in it then anything else I had ever endeavoured on in my life. Needless to say, by the time the beginning of the season finally rolled around, I felt more prepared than ever to tackle the lengthy and vexatious sport.

Mind racing, head throbbing, and voices screaming in my head. Millions of thoughts that won't stop even in bed. Voices shouting “ IT CAN GET WORSE.”

ter we had. The snow had been so high that leaving the house just to go to town for the basics was near impossible. Music blasting in my ears as I pushed myself to run one more mile. “Just one more, just one more” I told myself. Sweat ran along my spine and dripped from my chin, my chest heave as i sucked in every breath. In through the nose out through the mouth. “push,push PUSH” I said to myself. Running was my way of relaxing a release of all of the toxic build up inside of me. I always went alone, it was better that way I had no one to keep up with and no one to keep up with me. I was free. Vibrations on my wrist made me slow to a walk I had been running for an hour and it was time to head back home. Home the place that I shared with

In second year, I joined the school field-hockey team and regretted it soon after. I thought calculus could give migraines but field hockey placed that pain everywhere. I was totally out of place and thought of quitting regularly.

I remember the game winning point in Van Horn Iowa. We Bump, Set, Hit.... It was a kill!. The crowd goes viral. It's 2016 and the Sailor Nation 7th graders are on there way to state!