Personal Narrative-Destructiveness In An Athletic Team

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.

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

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

My throat was parched instantly. Knowing that I had to stay with Shelby. Repetitively telling myself that I could do it, I have to. Once I arrived at the mile mark before I knew it. I was searching all over but I could not see Shelby. Second guessing that she was ahead of me, I worked even harder. The wind was strong and the air was dirty. For a minute I was thinking that I could not do it; however, I changed that thought quickly after I saw the finish line. Pushing the hardest I had ever pushed. Noticing that I had made it, I placed 81st in

Barley in I could hear the pummel of feet, the clicking of spikes striking rocks, heavy breathing, and the crowd encouraging me. I was working arduously to think clearly and not let the sweat dripping off me and heat disturb me. I couldn't smell anything because I was breathing heavily. After the race a man gave me water and i was to drained to raise it. But I did and it chilled my throat with satisfaction. I sprinted to inspirit my teammates when their heat begun and it felt excruciating to hoist my legs. I knew Jonah and Noah would be rounding the corner soon and heading to their shoot. I strained my throat to shout as Jonah came in second place. Soon after Noah did not show up. I started to panic because I knew he should have finished by now. As each person passed by I felt my heart squeeze tight and become rigid. hearing my teammates beside me questioning each other and stating things that may have occurred. I swung around and darted toward the other direction of Finish. After talking to a friend and a couple acquaintances. I heard someone had collapsed from heat exhaustion. I started to lose it and could feel my eyes filling with water. When I saw my teammates jogging to a

My lungs were burning. The wind whipped past my face as I listened to the echos of the cheering crowd. I could see the straight white ribbon stretched across the finish line. I remember complete euphoria as I tore past that ribbon first. Sweat dripping into my eyes, I smiled as I walked off the track. The weight of the gold metal on my chest, was a glorious symbol of all my hard work. I would never get another one for sprinting again.

My feet pounded on the uneven ground, each step increasingly difficult. My breath was loud, uneven to my ears. I could see the girl in front of me, her brightly colored uniform becoming smaller as she pulled ahead. It was now or never; if I did not surge now, there was no chance of making it. I took a deep breath and increased my pace, running harder than I ever had before. But it wasn’t enough. I crossed the finish line, grabbing a tree as I struggled to stand, and look at the timer. With a time of 21:42 for the girls varsity 5k race, I knew I had missed my goal, and my season was over.

Many of my friends were on the running team, and after much convincing, I decided to join. Once I did, I fell in love. The sport of running has shaped who I am and what I believe in. The highs are really high, and the lows are really low. It’s an astonishing feeling when I am done with a race and a goal that I worked hard for has been achieved. However, when I don’t do well and I’m knocked down, knowing that the time could have been faster, or the pace could have been more consistent, that is when I think I grow the most. With the constant drive to be successful, it gets hard, and it gets stressful. Although it is not always easy, or ever easy for that matter, I have never stopped loving the sport or the atmosphere that comes with it. I hope I never

I could feel my legs straining with every step my lungs were being weighed down by cinderblocks sweat was stinging my eyes, but still I refused to show weakness. “you can do it” painfully croaked out of my throat not sure if I was talking to myself or the person running next to me coach's face shoved its way into my head I felt the terror all over again as I heard him say today you're going to take chase up Weir.

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

As I sprinted, I pulled ahead of all of my competitors. I could see the finish line getting close, and the cheering from the stands was louder than that at a football game. The finish line, welcoming and grand, stood just a few hundred feet away. Then, after what felt like a hundred years, I got to the finish line.

With the sun beating against my back, I ran through the narrow path, my breaths heavy and jagged. This was my first time running an obstacle course, and the different stations, from rope climbing to log jumping, had left me exhausted. My squad members had started to notice me struggling, but instead of running past me, they started to shout encouragements and cheer me on. Although I was drained of energy when I reached the finish line, I was overflowing with appreciation. My squad members, whom I met just four days before, had all teamed up to support me.

Another weekend, another twenty miler. i feel I’ve reached the purpose that, currently on marathon range six, I recognise as peak ‘why the hell do I try this to myself’ moment. Not shut enough to the race (just beneath seven weeks) to feel an effort of vasoconstrictive, and still a minimum of some of 20-plus runs to travel. Still, a minimum of there was consolation within the type of dish once yesterday’s hot and windy effort - and athletics to observe on the receiver.

I can’t breathe. With the pressure of the looming two-mile relay in front of me, I hold the weight of a thousand pounds on my chest. Engulfed in a blanket of heat, darkness clouds my vision, and the tension squeezes tears out of my eyes. This is the moment I’ve been working for all season. My first and final race as a freshman at the state track meet.

My running career has impacted my character development immensely. I vividly remember a September morning at the peak of the cross country season. At 5:30am my body dragged itself out of bed against my brain's will; I pulled up to the track soon after. As planned, today would be a traditional long run, in which all of