Personal Narrative: My Cross Country Race

As I stumble past the finish line, I am numb to my surroundings. I am numb to the other racers in the chute, the overjoyed parents, and the intrusive volunteers who shove me down the line to keep it moving. I am numb to the sweltering heat and the stench of two hundred overworked, sweaty racers. I am not even bothered by the girl vomiting beside me, because all I can feel is happiness. The first thing I want to do is share this literally breath-taking moment with my teammates, because they are the only ones who truly appreciate this feeling. Once we locate each other within the swarm of spectators, we share our times and experiences from the race, and even though it is a short exchange, it makes me realize how grateful I am to share the same passion for the same hobby with so many wonderful people. In this moment, I suddenly realize that I have never appreciated a sport so much, and I have finally become part of a team that makes me feel like I belong to a family.

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

The race had already been postponed from a previous date, and after having to wait an extra week for our highly anticipated home invite, our entire team was stirring by the time the day finally befell us. It was a reassuring feeling to be able to warm up on the course knowing that every step of the 3.11 mile course had been imprinted into from the time I had started running on it the summer before. Granted the weather wasn’t perfect by any means and the course’s condition was already less than stellar, but I could make do, to be honest I was too excited to even let it

The final seconds of a cross country meet when you are sprinting down the straight away, looking at the finish line, trying to beat just one more person, is one of the most mentally and physically exhausting moments I’ve ever encountered. In the Fall of 2014 things just clicked with our girls cross country team. Winning Bi-county, Conference, Sectional, and advancing to Regional and Semi-state, was unexpected to everyone around us. Losing five of our seven varsity runners the year before got us moved from our small school rank of 3rd to 13th. Getting moved ten spots on that list motivated us even more to prove to everyone what we could do without those graduated seniors.

So I decided to keep running. I knew that I may be a little more sore tomorrow, but if I was going to accomplish my goals I had to work hard. I kept running, and toward the last mile I began to really feel the burn, but I did push and finished with plenty of time to spare. That practice is what I thought of as i crossed the finish line with a smile on my face. As I headed back to camp still beaming about my time I thought to myself,

It was the big day for me and the team it would be our last race before going to state. Though I’m a good runner I know that this year still isn’t my year to strive for state because I still need to get faster. For right now though, I was planning on—kicking—major butt! As my team and I got off the bus we headed towards camp, passing at least twenty or more schools. Once, at camp I got my last bib for the season and began walking the course with my team. We all talked and laughed like a big family and honestly we were a big family.

“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.

The coach made us run extra harder, which many people did not enjoy. I ran thinking, if I run hard enough, I will run the greatest 2-mile, the distance we have to run in the league finals, I have ever ran. We would run intervals, 1 lap, 2 laps, 3 laps, 4 laps, and vice versa. We would also run up and down stairs and run track laps until we felt like puking. The week passed by fast as we practiced, and the league finals was just up ahead now. The weekend before the meet, wasn’t much, but for most of the weekend, I had butterflies in my stomach multiplying every second the meet got closer. My dad told me not to worry, which I thought was silly, because this was a huge meet. I got a lot of rest sleeping, and finally, the day had come. The day of the cross country league

I approached that year’s conditioning with a pessimistic attitude and wondered why was I doing this when I’m not going to run in meets. Just like the year before, I assumed that conditioning and practicing would be obsolete. I braced myself for another disappointing year. Every winter day after school, I braced myself against the cold with a hope that this season would be different. I went into the first day of practice feeling in shape and optimistic. But just like freshman year, there was no preparing for the ache and suffering of the first practice. With the season approaching, our coach timed us to determine who would run in meets. Our coach divided us into groups based on how fast she thought we were. When a senior saw that I was in the first, slower group, he said that I belonged in the faster group with them. Hearing that compliment from a senior changed my outlook on the season might go. As the first track meet approached, we split off into groups so we could perfect our technique based on the event we were running. As I was jogging around the track wondering whether this year was going to be the same as last year, our coach summoned me over to perfect baton handoffs for the 4x100 meter relay. As the realization hit me that I was going to compete, I thought, “I’m not going to relinquish this spot because I labored profusely to attain

I am a runner. One who strives for greatness at every moment and doesn’t give in when things get tough. I have aspirations, dreams, and goals which I will stop at nothing to achieve. Unfortunately for me, the life of a runner is filled with challenges and setbacks and only the best will learn to push through the adversity. My defining moment was the summer before my Junior year, 2016. I had set the goal of becoming All-State in Cross Country, meaning placing in the top 25 of all the runners in the state meet. This is, of course, a prestigious title to have, but I had faith in myself. For the first time in my life, I finally understood that preparation is key and if I fail to prepare, I should prepare to fail

During the fall of senior year, I joined the cross country team to help prepare and condition me for the track season, in the spring. Skeptical at first, I knew that I didn't have any endurance since I only sprint over hurdles during the track season, but little did I know that the weeks were passing and the end of the cross country season arrived. Though I was one of the inexperienced long distance runners, I knew that I ran the fastest I could because when I crossed the finish line I had an overwhelming nauseous feeling. As someone who runs a short distance, I was proud of myself for making it to the end of the season without quitting, especially since cross country is running for a long distance, which other sports make their athletes do

All the time and hard work spent had to pay off for something. I was also determined to beat my biggest rival on the team. She wouldn't hesitate to smear my face in it if she got a faster time than me. We stepped up to the 200 meter starting line and I tried to push the nervous thoughts out of my head. It felt like butterflies were bouncing off the walls of my stomach. We got into the start position and our coach began counting down from 5. It was only 5 seconds but it felt like an eternity. The four of us took off in unison and I could tell I was going to have to give this race everything I had. There was no way I was going to let the others defeat me. I heard the pounding of my feet against the track as I ran the curve. That's when I realized I was already in front of the rest and I began sprinting with every ounce of energy I had left. There were nearly 100 meters to the finish line and my legs were moving so fast it felt as if I was flying. I kept thinking about how much I had been working towards this and how I would not let myself down. Bolting through the finish line I could tell that was one of the best races I've ever run. My lungs felt heavy, legs aching from exhaustion and my eyes were watering from the frigid wind. As my coach was recording my time on his clipboard he revealed how many seconds faster I had been. Not only had I beaten my own personal best, but I had gotten the fastest sub varsity time.

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.

When I was on the track team I was always the last one to finish and my brothers made fun of me for it. Compared to everyone else I felt like a turtle racing against a cheetah. I just wasn’t a sprinter and I couldn’t jump, so running track wasn’t for me. The one thing I did have though was determination. When I did not want to run anymore because I didn't

At this meet, instead of a gun, they fire a cannon. The cannon fired and we were off. I felt super slow this meet. I was mad I thought I was going to get a worse time than Bob Schul again. I ran through the race passing people, letting the energy from the crowd keep me going because hearing someone yell for me when I’m running I feel so much better. Eventually I got down this small hill and I saw the finish line about 200 meters ahead. The clock was in the 17’s and I got really excited because for me, this was really good. I was sprinting as fast as my legs could go. I thought I was going to fall on my face because I couldn’t control my legs anymore. I ended up with a time of 18:08. A PR by a minute and a half, that would stand most of the season. No matter how slow I was, and how much my speed was made fun of at practice, I still got high-fives and congratulations after a meet. The rest of the meet was fun because we all hung out, waiting for the award and eating the really good buttered parmesan pasta. Greenville was not death, it was the best.