Personal Narrative: The Metro Detroit Heart Association

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.

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

Each step was more difficult than the last, my breathing became a fast-paced panting, my legs reluctant maintain my long stride. Doubts settled themselves in my mind, reminding me that I had never run long distance before, taunting me as I willed my legs to keep going. I had set out to own my run, but now I couldn’t bear the thought of enduring the rest of my last mile and a half.

Mercy Medical Center is where it all started. On August 4th, 2004, 6:47 p.m. I was born. My name all started as a simple idea 4 years before I was even born. It originated from an American singer-songwriter Shannon Hoon, the lead vocalist of Blind Melon. Eventually, Shannon had a daughter, and named her Nico Blue. My mom liked the name and decided she would name her first child that. Though my first name isn’t actually Nico, it’s Nicolynn. She added her middle name to the first half, leaving me with no middle name.

During the third season of When Calls the Heart, I became the unofficial interviewer of the Hope Valley Kids, probably because I interviewed so many of them. And Jaiven Natt was definitely in that group. With his return to the series this year, we have continued to see his skill and character expand and deepen, so I recently had the supreme opportunity of chatting with him yet again, and this time, we had a decidedly different, but engaging interview covering a wide variety of topics.

Right on pace. I took a glance behind me just to see 3 or 4 runners right on my tail. I imagined them as a hungry pack of wolves chasing a rabbit. Except I was the rabbit. I started to pick up the pace until I saw the home stretch. The freezing cold wind was starting to get to me. I couldn't feel my hands, even though I had gloves on. The only obstacle standing between me and about 6 runners ahead of me was a gigantic hill. I charged up it,

Watching the men eat the meat they hunted yesterday, I wonder what would have happened if they were in my place. My mother and I barely have an entire meal compared to what the men are eating. As the day went by, I had to say something, I had to speak up, but not for me, for my mother and father’s legacy. When all the men that were on the council were together, I gathered up the courage and walked into their igloo. I told them my point of view and my problems, but not as Keesh, I spoke as the son of the greatest hunter to ever walk on the rim of the polar sea, Bok. My father died trying to save this entire village and everyone seems to forget that I am his son and that my mother is his wife. I have dealt with a lot of hardships since

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.

Why? Well, I personally have a heart condition. I was born with left Valve Stenosis witch means my heart has to work harder to pump blood though the valve and my body can suffer with less oxogen. With having this condition I do have chest pains, more then anyone has. The wild part is I can not take birth control because there is a lot of effects within the heart. I’ve had an inhaler many times to help with my breathing and multiple open heart surgeries. With my condition there are many things in this world I am not able to do, such as I have to be a certain weight. As for me I can’t weaigh over 120 pounds, I can’t go on roller costers, I can’t have too much salt, and I’m very limited on working out and I can’t skip meals and being stress is not great for my heart.

Before I knew it the Starter pointed his gun high and fired. Across the starting line from both sides I felt runners storming off, as did I. I wanted to take a smart approach as I planned I would. The first mile quickly came up and I was advancing my place further to put myself into a positive position to finish. A mile and a half into the race overall I felt relaxed  and was still moving up passing runners. Next the second mile came up and I was starting to struggle as were some runners close by. Additionally hills were to come in the next mile and a half and I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I knew If I stopped then slowed down, I wouldn’t satisfy myself. Eventually I made it through the hills along with other struggling runners. The last part of the race came and as soon as I made it to where I had about 400m left, overall I gave it all I had in the moment so that I finished in excellent standing with myself. As I gave it all I could I passed a few runners in the process and as a few passed by as well. Finally, after several minutes of trying to catch my breath I finally

Beads of sweat slip silently off my skin. I feel my heart steadily thumping, a soft hum, and my stomach clenched in unforgiving knots. Every muscle, tendon and ligament quivers in the stillness of anticipation. Finally, the thundering base of the gunshot sounds, and my body bursts off the starting line. Long strides cut through the air, bouncing off the balls of my feet. My arms pump to keep pace, adrenaline rushing throughout the race.

It was sunny out, but there was a slight breeze blowing the tent around, making it hard to set up. Friday evening was the practice run, where all the riders got the chance to pre-run the course for the race the next day. When the announcer announced that it was my class’ turn to practice my stomach dropped. It felt as if I was going 100 mph and just hit a dip in the road. I felt like

Hundreds of family and friends drive hours just to see a eighteen minute race with the possibility of winning being slim but, knowing this race can change someone's life. We get to the meet earlier than we should’ve thinking the traffic would have been horrible on the day of the State Cross Country Meet. Off in the distance we see big fancy busses with tons of runners from experienced facilities stretching in nothing but, the newest brand of athletic clothes. Feeling insecure about our ability to perform as everyone else that earned their spot their.

Learning to read is one thing that was instilled in me at a young age. My journey all started with my great grandmother, Dolly, who kept me at her house up until I went into school. I had countless stories read to me when I was little and they ranged from Pocahontas all the way to Caleb’s Story. These stories allowed me to become enthralled in times of the past. Pocahontas was set during the formation of the colonies and Caleb’s Story was set in the time of the pioneer days in the West. However, the one book that ultimately changed my view point on reading was Listen to Your Heart. This story effected my choice in literature in years to come. Reading has provided me an escape as well as turned me into a complete romantic all because of my

As a whole, my family has always carried an interest in personal fitness and athletics throughout their lives. Today, this is thought to be a primary passion of mine however it was not as a child. Growing up, I was urged to participate in athletics but none ever caught my eye. I usually swayed towards musical instruments including the saxophone and piano. However, this all changed the month of November when I participated in The Greensburg Annual Turkey Trot. Although I did the race for pleasure rather than a competition, I had not expected to do so poorly. Out of the three miles, I could hardly finish one without bending over in complete and utter exhaustion. My friend, hardly out of breathe, urged me to keep going as I fell behind. A rush of disappointment and embarrassment came over me as I finished the race, walking the remainder of the way. At the end of the finish line, I came to the conclusion that below mediocrity was unacceptable. I had always pushed myself to the best of my abilities with academics, even in my