Personal Narrative: Pine Creek Race

Terry Fox’s journey began in 1977, when his right leg was amputated because of a malignant tumour (“The Marathon of Hope”). After a successful amputation, he had dreams of running and started to train for his cross-Canada run – the Marathon of Hope. After running

While the pain is fresh and the glory is sweet, I decided to write this article about my experience running the marathon and how in my opinion, it metaphorically correlates the beginning and the diurnal responsibility of my profession as a Surgical Technologist.

It's the day before the big Lake Fork bass tournament. John Noah is getting prepared. He has already cleaned up his boat and is rigging up a swimbait on his favorite carrot stick rod with his favorite lews reel on it. Next John got all his tackle together, he had to take his time choosing lures because of the certain depths in the lake. He got some topwaters for shallow water, some deep diving crank baits for deeper water, and some swimbaits and spinnerbaits for medium depth. Then he double checked everything and made sure it was all in the right place.

My names Linn and i’m 24 years old, this morning my husband gave me some horrible and good news. The bad news is that our family is going on the Oregon trail and that means we're leaving Illinois, where I grew up my whole life and our family dog, but the good news he said about going on the Oregon trail is that when we get to our destination we're gonna have a lot more farm land. Today we're gonna try and find a wagon. We went to our friends house to see if the have a wagon we can use and it happens that the do it's a Prairie Schooner and they gave it to us for a lower price than what they wanted it for. We hooked our horse up to the wagon and we were on our way back home. When we got home, we automatically started to pack. My husband James, who is 25 years old

Cresting the hill, I struggled with my ragged breathing and the pain in my hips. I focused on my rhythm I in order to keep going. My running shoes slapped the pavement as onlookers expressed their encouragement with cowbells and cheers. I wondered again why I put myself into the situation by choice. As I passed mile 13 I remembered. I felt my eyes water and my legs shake as the finish line approached. Marines in uniform stood ready with medals and smiles as they encouraged us in our own hardships to rise above the pain and finish. The announcer spoke my name but I hardly heard him as a medal slipped over my head and I marveled at the weight, not of the medal, but the accomplishment which seemed impossible for the past three hours. I finished in 3 hours, 7 minutes. It was not an Olympic record and I detested running at mile two, but I did it.

“Is everything all right with you now?” I asked having referred to her arm, but was actually prying deeper than that.

After another great year of running and training, Chino Hill’s Cross-Country team ended with an amazing season. Throughout all the hard-core training and rigorous races, both the boy's and girl's teams had successful results. Injuries had been a recurring problem, as some runners didn't train during the summer. Despite struggles and injuries that had occurred throughout the season, there were many improvements and achievements in the team. In League the Girl’s Varsity Team won first, and the Boy's Varsity Team achieved second. The Boy’s JV, Frosh/Sophomore, as well as the Girl's JV placed second. In Boy's Varsity the top runners were, Andrew Arvizu, Jake Bergmann, and Noah Rehfeldt, and the Girl's Varsity the top runners were, Rachele Sunagawa,

Close to a year ago, my brother and I went to Darlington South Carolina for a NASCAR race. This was our third race and third time being in this crazy but wonderful environment. The people were drinking, the laughter was loud but genuine, and the race was thrilling. The excitement you get from hearing the loud cars, seeing them crash and the excitement of the crowd was overpowering. I had goosebumps from every bit of it. The smells from the burnt rubber, the smell of the smoke from the cars after hitting the wall or crashing into another car, the blinding lights from the fireworks when the race was over, and people going crazy was so overpowering. The parties that night were entertaining. People treated complete strangers like family, and fed

Last year when I won the Highland Conference in Cross Country, is when I really started to like running. I remember the first meet of the season. I had been running a lot, like 35 miles per week a lot, I was feeling very ready and just felt like I had the advantage on everyone else. I was in such good shape that the two miles you run in an actual meet felt like nothing compared to how much I had been running on my own so at that first meet I kind of surprised myself. I took off a lot faster than everyone else it seemed. I kept a much faster pace than most and just kind of kept it that way. The meet was at Manton, so half way through the race I remembered Manton’s cross country course is known for the signature obstacle, the mudpit. When I got

“Whoa, whoa! Where is this taking us, where, where?” I said as my heart was beating as fast as a runner who finished the Boston Marathon. I was hiking with my family a second ago, and now I am through a wavy transparent wall that made me feel like I was heading through Platform 9 ¾ in Harry Potter. I suddenly was flying through a golden sky that glistened like the sun hitting the ocean. Gracefully I did flips and cartwheels in the air while gold ribbon followed me like ducklings following their mother. Milliseconds later I landed in a grassy field. Cows were harvesting crops and cooking dinner. Straw hats aligned their faces, with brown corduroy overalls splattered in dirt. They smelled like a fertilizer company on a hot summer afternoon.

The arctic like temperatures make it essential to dress in warm winter gear for survival. All of the people seen in the photograph are all wearing heavy looking coats, and most are wearing hats and gloves. The enthusiastic anticipation as the race begins is unrivaled. It can be seen in the substantial number of people bordering the sides of the crowded snowy street, in the faces and eyes of the dogs as they pull the sled, and in the overall atmosphere of the photograph. The undisguised determination seen in the musher and his team of dogs is without a doubt. The strong stare of the right lead dog, the vigorous endeavor made by the black and tan dog in the third row from the back, the overall team effort made by each of the sled dogs, and the proud stance the musher all show how much determination the team has for the race and in each other. Despite the evident bone chilling temperatures, the keen anticipation and compelling determination can all be found in the untitled photograph of the start of the 2013 annual Iditarod Trail

The Great Iditarod Race Glossy grey and white fur Speeding across the Iditarod checkpoints Each dog with a purpose Bound and determined to give it their all Each one steadfast and not willing to fall The musher pushes on As the dogs do their best Each one knowing they are as important as the rest The finish result is like no other Each one counting on each other Getting closer and closer, they can’t wait to get home With the final destination… Nome Taking few breaks

The physics lab, with its windows shuttered and lights off, only the blue light from the projector illuminating the room, seemed like a better place to take a nap than repair cars and learn how to drive them on a Monday morning at 8:00 AM. However, the footage from the professional go-karting racing circuit playing on the screen left me both exhilarated and terrified, and most definitely not drowsy. Minutes later, our group of fourteen boarded the bus that would take us to the indoor racing center of Denver, where amateurs and pros alike trained for racing season, Unser Racing.

August 7, The London 2012 Summer Olympics.“Go Derek! Go! You can do it!” I yelled from the sidelines of the track field. This was it, this was the reason he had been training nonstop for months. Behind that wide smile there was blood, sweat and tears. The way he ran was mesmerizing. With every stride he took, he leaped forward and in a wink of an eye he had already ran several meters ahead. He was the perfect athlete, incredible strength, passionate, optimistic, focused and determined. “You’re almost there Derek! Just one more lap!” I cheered him on. He was in the lead, with the finalist from Germany, meters behind him. I could see the other runners slowing down knowing the win was Derek’s. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, he

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.