Personal Narrative-Horse Hunting

I go to the grass by where we will line up for the race and I put my spikes on. Making sure every spike is tight; I double knot the laces and stand up. Now my stomach really hurts. The nerves of a runner before a race are one of the worst things to handle. The announcer puts me in line and I take a deep breath once it’s my time to go up to the blocks. I set up my blocks for my standards and take off my sweats. The breeze hits my thighs as my tank top flows from side to side. The sun wishes me good luck just before I start my race. I slightly shake as the announcer tells us, “Runners to your mark!” and I get down. Shaking more vigorously now, my heart is pounding in my chest. It seems like hours waiting for him to yell, “Get set!” “Go!” but once he does I know it’s go time. I push off my blocks, and I run as fast as I can. I can feel my legs moving together in motion as the balls of my feet dig into the track. My spikes are doing their job in helping me grip to the surface as I make my way to the finish line. Neck and neck with the girl next to me I hope she gets winded out near the end and slows down so I can just scarcely make it past her. I feel like I am running as fast as a horse. Crossing that finish line and coming to a slow stop, I breathe heavily as I exhale in relief of being over. I did it, I’m done… and I did well. My legs raw, I get off the track. (AB) Some fellow sprinters congratulate me as I do the same to them. That is what’s nice about track, it seems like most of the people are very friendly. They have no problem congratulating you or talking to you about how nervous they are before a race. We know we are all in the same boat and all we want is to succeed. Every blue moon a distance runner will congratulate a sprinter but I don’t think it has ever happened to me. I don’t know if they are just caught up in their own world or if they are just being stingy about the whole

After every race, you can vaguely expect what you will see up on the clock. I know, now, how much I put in, is only as much as I can expect to get out. Running has helped me form some ideas that are still fresh in my brain but will hopefully help me become a better version of myself. Just remember, someone may have a lifetime ahead of them, but they need to make the last bit just as good as the

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

A jagged pain arcs across my chest as I take in a breath. My legs grind up one after the other, barely moving but still pushing me forward. The runners ahead of me continue to press on, legs becoming a blur as they widen the gap. Eyes glancing up for a split-second, I find a primitive strength rising up within me, something that says No. You are not done yet. Throwing my arms higher and feeling my body ache even more, I set my gaze on a tree that lines the top of the hill, and I gradually increase the length of my strides, slowly but surely catching up with the group that was about to leave me behind. As we pound around the corner and begin to coast downhill, I release a small sigh of relief, despite my exhausted lungs. I may have won a battle, but the war continues, and we continue to

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.

“Good Job keep going, you can do it, run run faster, you got this!” These were the words coming from the audience as I was finishing my last 100 meters in the cold, pouring, rain during sectionals. I was in second place in my heat and my heart was thumping and I couldn't see through the water stains on my glasses, but I heard someone someone breathing hard and their spikes hitting the track as they ran behind me and I knew I had to push even harder.I remembered the rough trading I had in practice and knew I could do it.

When I was twelve years old, I learned that horses do not like me. My friend Molly and I went to Camp Ernst the summer before seventh grade during Christmas in July week. We didn’t know anyone else there, so we got stuck in a cabin with a bunch of snobby Milford girls. Molly really wanted to do the horse camp, so I did it too because I didn’t want to be alone with the other girls. I wasn’t really into horses but Molly was so I decided to take one for the team.

Suddenly, with no warning, two runners of the grade below me pulled ahead. I couldn’t believe it! They were a year younger than me, yet they were faster. However, I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch up even at my best. As I neared the 100 meter line, I started to convert into a jogging pace and got my bearings. I allowed myself to breathe again and relax but still trying to run my best. I was in 3rd place with the two kids in front of me about 50 meters away. I cleared my mind and just concentrated on breathing; taking a deep breath in through my nose, and letting it all out of my mouth. I was starting to feel the fatigue in my muscles and my legs are crying for rest, but I refused. I started hearing heavy breathing noises and loud footsteps behind me, steadily catching up. I risked a peek to my left and was horrified and yet surprised that my chubby classmate was right on my heels. I was not going to be beaten again and into 4th place. I pushed myself harder and pumped my legs and arms with renewed energy. All my blood rushed to my head and I felt like a locomotive cutting through the cold air. As we ran around the bend, we were head to head and trying to outdo each other. He

My number one and dominate passion is deer hunting with a bow. If I could turn this into a business venture of mine, I would enjoy every single day at work and not take any days off. I think it would be an amazing idea because first off, I love to hunt. Therefore I would be doing something I love every day through hunting season and prepare throughout the spring and summer months to be ready when the first day of the season rolls around. Second, I would be traveling, learning new things and meeting new people along the way, as well as teaching others the tricks and the trades that I have used along the way. The steps I would take to start this business would be very tough but it would be accomplish able with dedication and hard work. The first

The announcer was counting down and all I could think to myself was, “Please don’t die.” Standing dead smack in the centre of a herd of men and women, all of which were whooping and hollering anticipating the starting pistol to go off. Yet, there I was, praying that my 3 months of training wasn’t going to let me down. 5 seconds to go; and there was no turning back, what laid ahead for all of us was 11 miles and 21 obstacles that were designed to test one’s mental and physical tenacity. It wasn’t a competition; it was a trial. “Here we go!” my best friend Aaron declares sportively with a nudge as the pistol goes off, and our Braveheart charge was underway.

There were several other people shouting as a I approached the finish line. I could no longer feel my legs as I sprinted through the shoot at the finish. When I got out of the shoot I wanted to fall to the ground but I stayed up and walked to the camp where I was greeted by all of my fellow runners.

Running stayed on my mind all throughout the day, it was what I loved to do. At the Yukon state track meet my heart was racing more than ever. I’ve trained all season for this meet hoping to place top 6 in the state. It was blazing hot outside with the wind pushing a little hard against us. Me and my team was up next to run the 4x400m against many other schools that were competing that day. As we lined up in order from first leg to anchor, listening to the referee position us on where to stand, we were all scared. The referee shot the gun and the first leg runners took off. When it was my turn to go, I nervously stepped onto the red 8 lane track.

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.

This race was one of the first examples from which I had learned the power and importance of hardwork and determination. As I was emerging my teenage years, it was one of the most important lessons I had taken from that period of time; one that I still apply to my daily life. I had only started running for a couple weeks, in which my team and I ran through the frigid early spring weather, the scorching heat, and the fatigue after a seven-hour school day. All the work put in by not only myself, but my teammates and coaches, revealed to me the power dedication, hardwork, and determination has to bring about incredible