Personal Narrative: The Sport Of Running

“Sprinters don’t even do anything,” is what the distance runners say. “You guys hardly even run,” they go on. As a sprinter, I hear this a lot. Every year we get grief from them about how they think we don’t do anything and it’s very agitating. Track and field is supposed to be a team sport, although people do run in their separate events. Having the long distance runners always talk gossip and tell us we never do anything is just adding unnecessary drama. I hope some day they can learn to stop making perceptions of us.

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.

In physical education we were put to do the mile I was always second to last if not last I wasnt made fun of but I didnt really good about myself. As the years went on I was still fat couldn’t do anything until sophomore year of high school is where it all changed. I remember it quite clearly as if it was yesterday I was sitting in my math class when one of classmates had large number pinned to his bag and a uniform on that hadn’t seen before. That's when I got curious and asked what sport was all this for he then explained it was for cross country and that I should join it would be fun. It turns out that the season was about to end so it was to late to join so I had to wait for next year so I did. I went my junior in the summer since that's when they practiced and ran for the first time. After this first run I thought I was going to literally die and didn't want to this any more and to top it off all the guy runners who I thought that were slow beat one by one. This is where I decided I wasn't going to be last or lose a race to anyone. I practiced the whole year and did track top it off. Now the summer of my senior year was very motivational since I got up early ran and did this everyday till school started to be the best of my high school. Well the season would begin and I was breaking my school records and receiving medals from invitationals and

Sitting in my frigid bleak classroom I found myself constantly looking out the window staring at the rain that had been barreling down all morning. This frightened me a great deal, for I was prepared to compete in my first official Cross Country race of the season. I waited for this day for quite a few months. Unfortunately, previous back-to-back injuries prevented me from fulfilling my dream of running. These injuries were so severe i had to go into surgery just to be able to walk normal again much less of running on uneven surfaces like cross country. The long months of rehabilitation were log and painstakingly hard, not just physically but mentally as well. There were so many days i knew there was no way i was ever going to be my normal self again. When I was finally able to run again I spent all of my summer practicing for this year’s season. Many of my

Ever since I can remember, I have been playing sports. I played a sport each season and excelled in each sport I played, most likely due to a high level of coordination at a young age. Playing hockey and squash in the winter before middle school, soccer and football in the fall, and the best season of all due to the range of such high level sports, spring, in which I played baseball, lacrosse, and tennis. I knew that I had the most skill in baseball, tennis, and hockey. One day, the day of a little league baseball game, I was sick and been throwing up the night before, my coach told me I did not have to play. The decision was in

We quickly received a summer training schedule and I started training. I soon came to the realization that this sport was just what I needed. Cross-country was the key that unlocked my jail cell, and I started dropping times – fast. As my freshman season came to a close, I ran a personal record (PR) of 19:49, somewhat rare among brand new runners. At around the same time, my dad received orders to move back to Pace, Florida, where I had spent part of my elementary school days. I joined my new team but unfortunately could not perform well. I didn’t run very much after my freshman season, so I basically had to start from scratch with a 25:05 time trial. As a result of hard work, I PR’d in my last race with a 19:36, but that wasn’t the highlight of the season. I had people helping me through this struggle the whole

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

I approached that year’s conditioning with a pessimistic attitude and wondered why was I doing this when I’m not going to run in meets. Just like the year before, I assumed that conditioning and practicing would be obsolete. I braced myself for another disappointing year. Every winter day after school, I braced myself against the cold with a hope that this season would be different. I went into the first day of practice feeling in shape and optimistic. But just like freshman year, there was no preparing for the ache and suffering of the first practice. With the season approaching, our coach timed us to determine who would run in meets. Our coach divided us into groups based on how fast she thought we were. When a senior saw that I was in the first, slower group, he said that I belonged in the faster group with them. Hearing that compliment from a senior changed my outlook on the season might go. As the first track meet approached, we split off into groups so we could perfect our technique based on the event we were running. As I was jogging around the track wondering whether this year was going to be the same as last year, our coach summoned me over to perfect baton handoffs for the 4x100 meter relay. As the realization hit me that I was going to compete, I thought, “I’m not going to relinquish this spot because I labored profusely to attain

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.

During the fall of senior year, I joined the cross country team to help prepare and condition me for the track season, in the spring. Skeptical at first, I knew that I didn't have any endurance since I only sprint over hurdles during the track season, but little did I know that the weeks were passing and the end of the cross country season arrived. Though I was one of the inexperienced long distance runners, I knew that I ran the fastest I could because when I crossed the finish line I had an overwhelming nauseous feeling. As someone who runs a short distance, I was proud of myself for making it to the end of the season without quitting, especially since cross country is running for a long distance, which other sports make their athletes do

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

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.

Blue flashes of light left you temporarily blind as you ran from her. Her spears fired at you with the intent to kill. Your health is low, only 4 hp left. Then you felt it, A piercing pain in your thigh. You collapsed to the ground as the now bleeding wound rendered you unable to walk. You tried crawling but it was of no use, you could feel yourself bleeding out, and the sound of boot steps was getting closer. You gave up, knowing the end was near and there was hardly anything you could do about it. You felt the tip of Undyne's boot wedge it's self under you as she flipped you over.

I was well behind the rest of the group, dizzy and dehydrated, never had run three miles before and going well over at this point, I ended up finding my way back before passing out. However, there were no excuses, I had to finish the last mile and a half on the track to complete the day's schedule. I knew after that the season would be tough, and I almost considered quitting. But, I was stubborn and determined to get better. The season carried on and the practices got tougher, six or more miles, extreme weather, tougher terrain, but I persisted getting closer to the varsity runners. My coach saw this and put me in their group to run with them. Despite the difficulty of keeping their pace, I gained more motivation from this. When I tore my hamstring shortly after, the motivation kept me running with the injury, not stopping until I had to be carried to the bus from the finish line of a meet because I couldn't walk anymore. I finished the year on varsity and went through the rest of my freshmen year thinking my senior year I would be a captain on the team.

I thought for the longest time that i was being brave for always running. i thought that to stand still was nothing shy of complacency, as not moving forward, as an overconfidence resulting from knowing exactly what was underneath my feet. truth is- i was being a coward. while yes, i was moving, it was simply to block out the noise. i continued to sprint so that i didn't have to listen. i didn't even notice that all the while i was going in the wrong direction. further and further and further away. but you can't run forever. it was when i was too tired that i stopped- exhausted, lost, and in complete darkness. however, it's when i was forced to be still that i finally had the time to reach out and find the light switch. then was when i discovered