Personal Narrative: Race Induced Nervousness

Your first race has finally come. You climb onto the stepping block, and your legs are so unstable that you might as well just fall into

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

Laying down in bed the night before the meet was always nerve wracking, wondering who was going to show up to the meet the next day. The drive over to the track was often long and silent. Often thinking of every outcome of each race could drive a runner insane. Finally arriving and seeing all the athletes, spectators, and the crowd. The roar of the announcer echoing through the stadium. I stepped on the track hoping to see a few familiar faces. The cold breeze blowing against my tracksuit. I began to warm up and tuned out

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.

Soon enough my nerves got the best of me, my fingers started to trace over my shorts and my long chestnut brown hair was occasionally twiddled with. I slung my bag over my shoulder and my cleats hit the hard ground. We gathered in two perfectly straight lines and followed the captains to the nicely cut green. I could smell the victory into what I had worked so hard for, yet the stress that led up to this made me believe otherwise.

As we all headed outside to the football stadium, tension started to come through my whole body. My legs felt stiff and my hands felt as if water was running through my fingers. I was not prepared to walk across the stage. We practiced hundreds of times that morning but, it was just too hot to concentrate on what we were told to be doing. So much was going through my mind like, “What if I trip as I walk across the stage?” “Who all from my family is here?” “What am I going to eat afterwards?” I was starving because I had not eaten since 8:00 that morning. I stepped a foot onto the track circle and images went through my mind. Drops of sweat ran down my face and I tried not to look at the audience to keep myself from getting more nervous. As we stepped

And there I stood, at the edge, the end of my feet hanging over the grey concrete. My shoes gripped the edge as my instinct to live took over. I fought that too.

I remember the 48 hour exercise restriction that made me sad but relieved at the same time since I was so tired. I also remembered missing my pre-cal test the following morning. I considered my diagnosis: dehydration and heat exhaustion. I thought about how I let down my team because they could not score at the meet without my finish. I knew better. If I learned anything from that day, it would be that every day, or more specifically, every race, is not perfect. The bad races make you appreciate the good ones that much more. My team and family proved how supporting they really are. I knew I was blessed, no matter how

The ground came toward me very fast as if running on a treadmill. What seemed so slow became very fast and tiring. My body began to feel heavy, where pain started to burn on my thighs but the pushing of speed did not begin yet. Sweat collected against my forehead, and my back. My breathing began to hitch, but I could not have stopped when I just began.

gun-bearer looking ahead and listening, Macomber close to Wilson, his rifle cocked, they had just moved into the grass when Macomber

I then quickly began to consider failure, but I knew that was not an option. So I gathered my three other teammates who would perform in the race with me to pray and breathe. Soon enough the first leg of the relay stepped on the starting line. Following with the official finally speaking into the intercom, “On your marks, get set.” At that moment, I took a deep breath and said to myself “I just have to go!” “Set!” and then the gun fired. The first leg on my relay shot out of the blocks instantly, in a way I had never seen her do before. First hand off, second hand off, then it was finally my turn. As I took my place on the track, I stood on my tiptoes and waited on third leg to close the gap between us. 10 meters, 5 meters, I said to myself as she approached me for the hand off. “Rocks!” she screamed, as the signal for me to reach back for the baton during my take off. After I snatched the baton my knee drive lifted, while making sure my arms were exactly ninety degrees, from my cheek to cheek. During the first 200 of my 400-meter race, two other fourth leg runners, from opposing teams stayed right in front of me. After 10 meters, I finally passed one, and then I began to feel quite fatigued. My legs felt like seventy-five pound dumbbell weights and my arms felt weak. Therefore, I started to feel as if I was not going to make it and settle for second place with 100

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. Though I was drained of energy by the time 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.

BOOM! The starting gun sounded and the biggest dual meet of the year was off. After much anticipation, preparation, and strategizing, the most important 5 kilometers of my young running career had started.

With a rousing cheer we bounced on our toes, yelling in a steady roar, our arms around each other’s shoulders. With the command to start running, we raced across the pavement, leaping over curbs and tree roots, yelling “STEP” as a warning to those behind us. When people could no longer run they fell out of the group, only to be joined by a fellow company member encouraging them to continue running. At 0530 all 500 of us made it to the field, leaning on each other and gasping for air, only to be greeted by a former Navy Seal ready to begin our workout.

It was only about five seconds before my feet would touch the rough ground, but five seconds felt long. On your mark… get set … go! And we exploded into the air, Jack was still in front of me, when I ran it felt like a thousand needles piercing my feet. I still ran and was neck to neck with Jack, my legs felt like Jell-O but I was still even more determined, runners were just like cheetahs who wanted the prey to ourselves. I saw the finish line as well as heard Jack's feet scrambling behind me I collapsed into the arms of the finish line. I looked up and I saw kids cheering, they cheered for me even my friends were cheering for me. I never thought I'd be able to do it. I was trying to catch my breath and shake off my legs which felt like elastic. I felt new and confident as ever, I saw Jack when the race was over and he wanted to return the shoes he said sorry, and I refused and told him to keep the shoes as I walked into the cheering crowd I thought, ‘I didn't need them any