Personal Narrative: My Passion For Track And Field

After a short-lived and unimpressive career on the basketball team the previous year, I joined the track team with hopes of fulfilling my dreams of being a varsity athlete. Though determined, I was undersized in both

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.

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

When times get tough, don’t give up. If you want to be the best you can be you don’t have a choice but to push your limits and try. As these words of encouragement have made me become who I am, cross country has shaped me into the person I am today.

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.

“You have to be committed, and know that along the way you’ll get better and stronger”,

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.

My plans when I get older where like every other child's. I want to be in the NFL. To get where I am you have to start at a young age. I showed up at practice everyday and on time. I also studied the play sheets and went through all my routes. I studied day and night to be where I am. It wasn't easy. There was no time to play games get in trouble do drugs or hang out with friend on an everyday bases. You have to tighten up be a man. It's not like I woke up one day and I was starting running back I had to do what's right stay in school not miss a day because that one day could have been the most important day ever and I wouldn't have even known. You know why?? Because I was and didn't show up to school. Don't be that person I used to be.

“6:28,” the clock read as I was pulling into the parking lot, “6:29”. I exited the truck, grabbing my track bag as fast as possible. My phone fell out of my pocket. I paid no attention out of haste. I bent down with my track bag in my hand. I felt the glass lightly cutting my hand as I picked up my phone. I felt like Usain Bolt as I sped walk to the bus at what felt like at least thirty miles per hour. Sweaty and Tired I entered the bus. Why must we wake up so early? The meet starts at 9:00 and it’s only an hour drive away. Regardless, I strolled onto the buss. Horrified, I received the soul-penetrating stares of every single member of the Trojan Track team, athlete and student alike. Earlier that morning, having assumed that at least a few

I was born to run. I adore the feeling of aching legs, winded breath, and the absolute joy of knowing I have accomplished something so utterly momentous: winning a race. When I run, I feel strong and vivacious both on the inside and on the outside. Last year, I decided to join the high school cross-country team. I was extremely excited and could not wait for practice to begin, but I was also somewhat nervous. What if I was not talented enough? What if my skills were not competent enough? What if the coaches thought I was just… mediocre? I was so nervous, I began to doubt and feel dubious about my running potentiality.

It was the beginning of the track season a few days before our first track meet. My friends and I were running around the track and my leg gets tense. Not terribly unusual I've had charley horses before, but then there's a pop and my leg gives. I stop running and my friends help me up and to the athletic trainers. They tell me I have sprained my hamstring. This was heartbreaking for me as this was the year I was going to run with my friends in the sprints and high jump as I was unable to last year due to a similar thing happening but with my feet. I was not going to accept this defeat and choose to show up every day to practice and to the trainers for rehabilitation. At meets, I would work around the track at either the high jump pit or the long jump pit. I would give my teammates words of encouragement as often as I could. I held the

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

It is just another school day here in Sutherland, Nebraska. As I am sitting in class my teacher comes up to me and hands me a letter. One is to Hastings and one is to Midland. As I open both of the letters they both want me to come visit and talk to the track coaches. Both of these schools are interested in my jumping ability. They ask me to write down my best attempts in my events so I write down my personal bests for long jump, high jump, and triple jump. I have to choose one college no matter what, but what do I wish to pursue?

A personal experience I have went through in my life would be making it to districts in track and field my sophomore year of high school. Making it to districts was a big accomplishment for me and my teammates because track is something that I take a lot of my time to focus on and do multiple hours of training so I am able to compete with the other athletes. I come from a small town in Ohio called Oak Hill. The sport track and field is something you do not hear that much about because our high school is not very big and very few athletes actually run track to make it somewhat far in competition, so for my 4x1 team to make it to regionals was a big deal for me considering it is something that does not happen that often at my local high school.

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.