Bang! The crack of the starting gun made my ears pop, and we were off. Hundreds of feet trampled across a grass field. Two hundred meters in and I was already at the end of the pack. Ten hundred meters in and I was already walking. Everyone had told me that my first cross country race would be difficult but exciting, tiresome but exhilarating. I felt like death. Gasping for air, I imagined different scenarios that would take me out of the race. I could trip over that root. I could fall into that tree. My legs pained me and my motivation no longer held out. After a strenuous pattern of walking and running, it took me all I had left to sprint across the finish line. I collapse. Lying on my back in the dirt, I heavily inhaled air into
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He knew how upset I was about the previous day’s results, but he as well would not accept my thoughts of resignation from the team. After many words of encouragement he added, “No matter how fast you run, it’s going to hurt, so tune out the pain. Prove that you can do it, that you’re not scared.” All of a sudden, a fire inside of me wanted to do better, needed to do better, so I listened to his words. I decided to set a goals for myself. I would stop walking during races. I would push myself a little bit harder during each workout. I would eat healthy and get enough sleep to improve my performance. Over the following few weeks I learned to urge myself on. As much as I dreaded going to practice, my 4:30 ride home began coming along with satisfaction instead of relief. Slowly, I started to realize how much I loved cross …show more content…
Every wednesday I crossed the finish line 1 minute sooner than I had the previous wednesday. If I could do that, I could do anything. On a cold morning in late October of 2010, I timidly put on my uniform, followed by my warm up sweats, and tied the laces of my running sneakers for the last time of the year. All of my hard work paved the way for that day: my final race. The time had come. Jitters dashed through my veins as my team approached the starting line. Every girl displayed a look of determination on her face. Every girl intended to leave it all on the course. Bang! The sound of a stampede followed the pop of the starting gun. “Pace yourself, but don't hold back” I repeated in my head. “Look for someone in front of you and pass them. After that, look for someone else; continue to push.” My head was bursting, my stomach wrenching, my legs throbbing, my chest pounding. This was what cross country was all about. I was determined to finish with all my might. The adrenaline pumped through my body, attempting to distract me from any discomfort. I progressed with the pack around the first cone, through the woods, and up a giant hill. My legs prayed for me to give up, but I kept on running. With my goals in sight, I pushed through the pain. Three-quarters of a mile left in the race. The muscles in my thighs and calves were burning. I pressed forward. Wheezing for breath, I began
He knew how upset I was about the previous day’s results, but he as well would not accept my thoughts of resignation from the team. After many words of encouragement he added, “No matter how fast you run, it’s going to hurt, so tune out the pain. Prove that you can do it, that you’re not scared.” All of a sudden, a fire inside of me wanted to do better, needed to do better, so I listened to his words. I decided to set a goals for myself. I would stop walking during races. I would push myself a little bit harder during each workout. I would eat healthy and get enough sleep to improve my performance. Over the following few weeks I learned to urge myself on. As much as I dreaded going to practice, my 4:30 ride home began coming along with satisfaction instead of relief. Slowly, I started to realize how much I loved cross …show more content…
Every wednesday I crossed the finish line 1 minute sooner than I had the previous wednesday. If I could do that, I could do anything. On a cold morning in late October of 2010, I timidly put on my uniform, followed by my warm up sweats, and tied the laces of my running sneakers for the last time of the year. All of my hard work paved the way for that day: my final race. The time had come. Jitters dashed through my veins as my team approached the starting line. Every girl displayed a look of determination on her face. Every girl intended to leave it all on the course. Bang! The sound of a stampede followed the pop of the starting gun. “Pace yourself, but don't hold back” I repeated in my head. “Look for someone in front of you and pass them. After that, look for someone else; continue to push.” My head was bursting, my stomach wrenching, my legs throbbing, my chest pounding. This was what cross country was all about. I was determined to finish with all my might. The adrenaline pumped through my body, attempting to distract me from any discomfort. I progressed with the pack around the first cone, through the woods, and up a giant hill. My legs prayed for me to give up, but I kept on running. With my goals in sight, I pushed through the pain. Three-quarters of a mile left in the race. The muscles in my thighs and calves were burning. I pressed forward. Wheezing for breath, I began