The Dance Team-Personal Narrative

The highs and lows of competition have constructed in me into an entirely new athlete. My first year of track and field and I made it to Far East by qualifying in the 4x800 relay. I guess you could call it beginner's luck. I would call it dedication and confidence. After almost a week of running and jumping events, the time has come to announce the winners of the banners. With the awkward silence sitting and waiting for the results to be told along with the rest of the crowd, the announcer finally broke the silence. “The D2 Girls Track Champions of 2015 is Zama American High.” This one night as emotional as an groom seeing his bride walk down the aisle knowing that she is all his. Have you ever wanted to take a moment and breathe in the air of accomplishing your

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

“Good Job keep going, you can do it, run run faster, you got this!” These were the words coming from the audience as I was finishing my last 100 meters in the cold, pouring, rain during sectionals. I was in second place in my heat and my heart was thumping and I couldn't see through the water stains on my glasses, but I heard someone someone breathing hard and their spikes hitting the track as they ran behind me and I knew I had to push even harder.I remembered the rough trading I had in practice and knew I could do it.

My feet pounded on the uneven ground, each step increasingly difficult. My breath was loud, uneven to my ears. I could see the girl in front of me, her brightly colored uniform becoming smaller as she pulled ahead. It was now or never; if I did not surge now, there was no chance of making it. I took a deep breath and increased my pace, running harder than I ever had before. But it wasn’t enough. I crossed the finish line, grabbing a tree as I struggled to stand, and look at the timer. With a time of 21:42 for the girls varsity 5k race, I knew I had missed my goal, and my season was over.

Sports were never one of my strongest points. I could barely make it above average in physical education class so I was perplexed when my housemistress selected me as one of the athletes to represent my house in the annual inter-house competition. Apparently the house was running low on athletes and no one was willing to volunteer for the javelin throw. I grudgingly went ahead with it since there was no way out of the situation: then began the most stressful weeks I had ever experienced. Since my experience in the sport was non-existent, I had to invest double the effort put in by the other athletes. Every morning, I woke up at four o'clock to meet the coach while my fellow mates enjoyed the comfort of their beds. Majority of my time was spent on the school field. After weeks of seemingly endless training sessions and aching joints, the day assigned for the event was finally here. The competition was very keen since most of the athletes were adept in the sport. I watched on as each athlete took her turn and I could not help but envy the speed with which they ran toward the sector and the finesse they put in their posture as they threw the javelin. Each time an athlete made the mark, my self-confidence dropped a notch. The previous quietude inside me was suddenly gone. In its place was an overwhelming feeling of apprehension. I felt a strong urge to back out and it did not help that there was a little pesky voice in my head that kept on

Before the big race all I could do was stare at the stat sheet. So many numbers floating around on the page, putting me in third place! My nerves were getting so bad my teammates wrestled the stat sheet away from me. They didn't want me to psych myself out. I put off warming up as long as I could, not wanting to accept the fact that I was minutes away from racing. My jitters were so high, I couldn't talk, I could barely walk. I was having a nervous attack, no, I was having a track attack!

When I crossed the finish line, I saw my time and started to feel depressed because I ran my worst race of the season. My family came rushing up to congratulate me on my great race, but I was too frustrated that I could not feel any happiness about my whole season. When I said my good-bye’s, I went over to my tent and talked with my coach.

In the spring of 2017, I started my third season on high school track and field. I love running track and it felt good to finally start running again. I figured this was going to be just like all my past season's, top finisher in the regular season but not good enough for the postseason. This year was much more than that. This year I made it to the postseason for the 100 meter dash, 200 meter dash, long jump, and 4 by 100 meter relay. It was a warm spring day without a cloud in sight. I felt very confident and ready to get top 5 in my events to move on to state.

I jogged over to my bag, and as I grabbed my spikes, I heard many of my teammates shout, “Good luck, Haley! You’ve got this!”. I nodded my head and muttered a “Thanks guys” as I quickly took off to go check in. Anxiety was already beginning to fill my stomach. I could feel the tingly sensation that some people called “butterflies” beginning to form. The feeling sunk in my stomach and remained their uncomfortably. “Alright, calm down. I still have 25 minutes till race time”, I thought to myself. Some nerves were good, but the anxiety part was just unnecessary. As I got to the check-in tent, I gave them my name, and returned to the middle of the football field where countless other hurdlers were starting to warm up. I knew who most of my competitors in my heat were going to be. To my left, I could spy a short and skinny girl with long, brown curly hair, a red uniform, and bright blue spikes who was most likely the fastest girl in the race. She was seeded 3rd in state and had been hurdling for years. However, instead of being focused on the competitors, I was focused on hitting the qualifying time that I had been aiming at the whole season. This aspect of the race brought a slight breath of fresh, soothing air to my lungs because it meant the race was in my control and was something I could dictate. I began to set up hurdles to start practicing. As I was striding over my last one, another

The nervousness building up inside me as I see my teammate racing down the final straightaway. I know that I will have to run faster than I ever had before. This was counties, this was the time to go as harder than I ever had. The thoughts going through my head put butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t let my team down, not after we had worked so hard to get where we were. My teammate comes closer to hand off the baton for my portion of the race. One last emotion ran through my mind as soon as he had handed me the baton, and that was one word. Run.

We all support and motivate each other through the difficult times. About a week into my season, I had still only ran with other eighth graders, but my coach believed I could handle more. After we finished a mile warm up on the track, Couch Rodak began selecting the groups for the workout. “Ward, Grippo, LaSpina…” He then turned towards me with his big blue eyes and mustached face. “Amiaga.” Then marked the first time of working out with varsity runners. I thought I misheard my coach, when he placed me in that group. They would likely drop me in the first mile. He selected us for a five-mile run, but the many hills of Franklin Lakes and Oakland made it feel much longer. We started off at a fairly even pace, but would gradually increase in speed closer to a 7 minute per mile pace. As a newcomer, I felt overwhelmed, but I put my mind to it. Once we got into our second and third mile, I was already gasping for air. However, I locked on to the man in front of me and refused to fall behind. My legs became heavier with every step I took.

Track is my life how could this be the end. Soon falling into a deep slumber. My dreams took me to a place in the future. In the event of dropping track my happiness went with it and so did my friends. Waking up with tears in my eyes it was 10:30am. A jog was the only thing that would clear my head. Finding myself at the practice field. My coach was there. "Been a tough couple of weeks huh?" he said. Nodding I stared at the ground. He handed me my times from yesterday. A smile as big as the stars grew on my face. My best times yet. Dwelling on past would get me nowhere. As long as I progress and improve I'm proud. From now on failure is my motivation and success is my

When I enrolled as a freshman in San Gabriel, I always liked running, that’s why I joined our school’s Cross Country Team and I loved it. I didn’t like the running part but I loved the part when I can run with my friends and make new friends. I always thought that cross country is a boring sport, but when you are in the team it is like a family. We worked together to win the CIF competition. During my first meet I did not race yet, largely because I didn't feel confident. Some of my friends like Carlos and William created a social circle called “The San Gabriel Matadors Always Win!!!!!,” When I was running for my very first race, I was expecting a very long run. However, it turned out that I was doing very decent. I talked to myself, “I had finally finished it already!” At the end of the season, in Cross Country, the whole team had a banquet to celebrate the closing of the season. We also had a memorable award assembly.

When I finished, I felt so much better because I knew I did more than I kept thinking I could do. For the rest of the season, I tried my best at every race to get better and go past my limits. After cross country, I joined track and chose to do the two mile race and the one mile. I did my research and looked at times of people to see what was considered very fast. When I saw the times, I knew that I had a long way to go if I wanted to become one of the people to beat some of those times in the future. At practice, I would do whatever the coaches had for us to do as best as I could. It was hard, but I knew it would only help me get better. Two weeks after beginning practice, I found myself doing what I saw as a lot before I started practice. Our first dual meet was against Cathedral City High School. This was when I ran the mile, eight hundred meter race, and two mile. When I got done, I was exhausted but once again found myself pushing past what I thought my limits were. For the two mile, I got a PR (personal record) or 13:15

My technique was refined and I was prepared for sectionals. I felt like I was the best I had ever been. I was sure that I was going to place into the top three at sectionals and move onto the State tournament. The morning came of Sectionals and I had to wake up very early; the tournament was being held at Mineral Point High School. When I finally rolled out of bed I was groggy and tired, not fully processed what was in store for that day. After getting all my stuff together I headed to the school. Upon entering the doors of my high school, the atmosphere just felt different. Entering the locker room it was quiet, I figured it was just because the coach and I were the only ones in there. I was wrong, after everyone showed up not a single person with a smile on their face, not because they weren't happy, because they knew that joking and laughing would get them no where today, that if they wanted to move on, they needed to be serious.