Personal Narrative: The Run

It was a perfect night for a run. Around 70 degrees with a slight breeze. I wait in my Dark Blue Mini Cooper as my watch gets my location. Feet trembling with adrenaline, much like an addict, I’m itching for a run. With a loud “BEEP,” I know the smartwatch is ready and I’m off. As time progresses, I start running faster, faster, and faster. The whispering wind would flow through my hair as I make my way down the trail. Bliss. I notice my surroundings, trees, deer, and the bright light of my headlamp. Chills go up my spine every so often. All I hear is the pitter pattering of my red running shoes and the occasional rustle of bushes. After what feels like the shortest moment ever, my half-hour run is over and I sigh with relief.

When I got fired from my job over the summer I realized there wasn't a lot to do. I was bored. This led to me exploring the woods around my house.I found lots of things, old oil cans, empty budweisers, and coyote traps, but the biggest thing I found was a trailer.

Who knew that things could change so abruptly, it almost felt that my whole world was flipped within a blink of an eye. Things were going to be different from now on, the people, the weather, even the fresh summer breeze from the coast will soon become a cold bitter winter breeze. This all came to my mind when my mom announced to my family that we’re moving, to New Jersey, once my school goes on summer break. At first, I began to panic, why do we have to move? Why can’t we just live here? We don’t even know anyone there, except for my aunt. We just moved here three years ago from New Jersey, and we didn’t like it, that’s why we only lived there for a month. Then why would we would we like it now? I question my mom, and I demanded explanations

When I was young my Dad would always remind me of how important these years as a kid are. He would always say watch how you act as a kid, for it will set the stage for the rest of your life. So many people I know ruined their lives when they were kids. This small, yet so important statement runs through my mind everyday. I love how everyone says they don’t care what people think of them, but I wish they knew how important it is to have a good image. I am not perfect, but I would like to be close as possible. But as Salvador Dali said “Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it. “ The problem I see is everyone wanting to be someone that they are not. Sure, we all have our idols that we look

When I was in seventh grade I fell in love. Not with a person, but a sport. I fell in love with track. I enjoyed the workouts, the races, the team, the events, the meets, but most of all I had found a passion for sprinting. I worked everyday during practice to prepare for the meets. I pushed myself as hard as I could and never gave up. I couldn’t get enough of it. I was mad for the feeling of your lungs bursting for air and your legs burning with pain. The long, exhausting workouts, the freezing practices, and the crazy memories you can make. There was nothing about it that I found unlikeable. Track was consuming my thoughts, I couldn’t stop. I was in love with it in every single way.

When I was only eight years old my mom and dad made me join a track team called Lighting Links. I was furious because I hated running, I was scared I wouldn't make any friends, and I really really hated running. For me, running was like throwing away your favorite candy for no reason. I would just use up all of my energy and get no benefits from it, well at least that is what I thought.

When you parents tell you not to do something do you just do it anyways. Well I do and this time I think I learnt my lesson. It all started on a normal Saturday and we were gonna go on a hike, but none of us wanted to go somewhere so we just did it at home. We got our bags and water ready and busted for the trail. I thought it was gonna be a normal day and we would all have fun, but I got proved wrong. The trail itself is about three miles and a couple of extra steps,but with the surprise we only walked a mile of it.

It was 4 a.m. and we had to meet in front of the school. I was wearing two sweaters because of possible rain. On the way to Dodgers Stadium, Mr. Nittle was telling us about his previous marathons and how it was always extremely hot. Once we got there I pinned my name bib number and stretched to pass the time. Every thirty minutes there was an announcer who’d come and tell us how much time we had until the race started. After I heard the announcer I began to cry, I don’t know if it was fear or excitement, but it hit me “I don’t want to do this anymore!” Was I really about to throw away all that practicing away for nothing? I’ve run an 18-mile race… a few miles more couldn’t kill me. I felt I was not capable. I was the only person who was telling

“Hey, Chase, do you have any cash I can borrow? I promise I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Write a narrative about 3 people who are on a road trip only to stop off at a gas station and pick up a fourth whom they don't know

On mornings as cold as this, there were only a few things I imagine one could think of that might be an appropriate form of activity. A moderate list. Running would probably be somewhere towards the bottom of that list. Yet, there I was, struggling through hundreds of people in dri-fit T-shirts and above-the-knee level, elastic gym shorts. I’d never been a fan of unfamiliar crowds. I could learn to deal with that. As I moved around and did copious amounts of stretching to get my body ready for the task before me, I unknowingly would soon have to learn to deal with something much harder to overcome than unfamiliar crowds.

He ran in the marathon ,for he wanted to support his mother who suffered from a cancer relapse

It’s been a long night and everyone was tired. That night I had a nightmare about a dark shape in the bright background. Then, it started to take shape of a human. I got scared and felt like running but I realised that I was stuck to the floor. The darkness of the shape, started to change colour. Into a colour of a person’s skin. It started to look like a person that I knew.

As a timid freshman, I attended my first annual cross country camp. The first morning arrived, and at 6AM Dave Gerlach, my coach barged in echoing, “Good Morning ladies today is a beautiful day for a run.” This saying was repeated every morning, regardless if it was actually a beautiful day to run. While he yelled this through the cabins simultaneously flashing the intense lights impairing our eyes, worst if you were on the top bunk, which was not in my favor at the time. Keeping my eyes closed, I lugged myself out of bed scrambling to find clothes out of my disheveled suitcase. Over, under, around and through, Meet Mr. Bunny Rabbit, pull and through. And Just like that my shoes were on ready to run. The first run was a simple 6K. As the gun went off I thought to myself, Easy...right?

Bare feet slammed against the sun bathed sidewalk as we huffed heavy breaths, going on with our escapade. Tired of adults, my sister, cousin, and I decided to hit the road.