November 14, 2015. That was the day of Preliminaries for California Interscholastic Federation (CIF) Championship and there I stood. All alone. In my own line, nervously waiting for the race to start as teams took their place to the right and left of me. Closing my eyes I took time to pray, thanking God for helping me get this far to begin with; then I turned around and stared at my coach from across the barricade. The old man who has been a part of my life for the past two years was smiling back at me and my eyes clouded with memories of this past season. Two weeks prior to what would be the last race of my season was League finals, which took place on our home course. The course we spent hours training on day after day, would be the same course that holds me back or helps me shine. My team consisted of only six runners; six runners who battled for third place week after week in hopes of possibly qualifying for CIF this year. Except qualifying as a team no longer became an option that day, that day would be the day I ran my heart out in hopes of qualifying one last time. As the race began I took the lead holding third the entire race, until the end. As the finish line neared, I lost my spot and finished in fourth. Fourth out of thirty-six runners, and the tears of joy flowed because I qualified: alone.
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Every day after school a pep talk and a three mile run became the routine. There was one practice in particular that I remembered: my last practice. My coach repeatedly told us how we earned our spots in CIF and explained how we deserved it more than any other runner out there, always addressing the boys in his speeches of moving on together. One day, however, he pulled me off to the side, looked me in the eye and said, “Christine you’re an amazing runner with a lot of potential. You just don’t know it yet.” Those words stuck in my brain and repeated in my head while I stood alone in my lane smiling back at
Every day after school a pep talk and a three mile run became the routine. There was one practice in particular that I remembered: my last practice. My coach repeatedly told us how we earned our spots in CIF and explained how we deserved it more than any other runner out there, always addressing the boys in his speeches of moving on together. One day, however, he pulled me off to the side, looked me in the eye and said, “Christine you’re an amazing runner with a lot of potential. You just don’t know it yet.” Those words stuck in my brain and repeated in my head while I stood alone in my lane smiling back at