Although I am a member of many diverse communities... ... middle of paper ... ... had found my vocation: sprinting. Entering my sophomore year I found myself replacing an injured runner on the varsity 4x100m. After showing marked improvement all season long I hit a hurdle that prevented me from bettering previous times; had torn my left quadriceps. Remembering my commitment to my teammates I limped through the wind and rain to practice daily. All my hard work had led me to the the starting line of a regional qualifying race; where my team would ascertain whether or not we would qualify for states.
After a disastrous bout with mononucleosis ended my freshmen track season, the fear of failure weighed heavily on my mind. I set a goal for myself in order to maintain focus and to push myself like nothing else would. My goal for my sophomore track season was to become a state champion in the 100 meter hurdles. I worked hard everyday at practice and went the extra mile, like running every Sunday, to be just that much closer to reaching my goal. The thought of standing highest on the podium in the center of the field, surrounded by hundreds of spectators, overcame my thoughts of complaining every time we had a hard workout.
I had to accept the fact that it happened and make sure now that I followed the correct steps to make sure I was able to play sports again and some how still be able to play while I was in High School. During spring break instead of going out and having fun like everyone else, I had knee surgery. I was in severe pain, and my surgeon Dr.Konic said the surgery was successful and after a few days of rest and letting my stitches heal, I would be ready for physical therapy. I could never imagine someone else or one of my team mates going through what I was dealing with. At times I would be in a great mood and excited and happy that I was fresh and my knee was new but then in a matter of seconds I would be in tears and fearful that I would not be able to play the sports I wanted to in High School.
High school is like competing in a cross-country race, shy and timid at first, but by the end people will see my true colors as I am crossing the finish line. The warmup. About an hour before the race begins I would usually start my warm up. My “warm up” of high school was freshman year. My warm up typically includes a jog, some stretching, and a lot of awkward conversations between my opponents and I.
I had been running track all through high school and was just about to start my senior season. I had never been great, but good enough to make states last year in the middle distances. Up until this year our only coaches were your typical, out of shape, over the hill, middle aged women who only coached track because they were either mean old biddies who liked to boss around young women or were athletes themselves before they let themselves go and now wanted to relive their fantasies of victory through our hard work and sweat. This spring though, things changed. We had a student teacher that offered to help out with the track team.
I started running when I was a senior in high school. I made it through the first couple of races all right, but began to get angry at myself because I was not improving at the rate I had wanted to. I was very excited for the season and often found myself distraught when I did not do well and I could not understand what the problem was. I always assumed that if a person runs fast one day, he/she should run faster the next day. In addition to the internal pressure I put on myself during my tenure as an athlete, I felt a lot of outside pressure.
I was trying out for the 16u Athletics and this would be my second season from the team because it was time to move from 14u to 16u. Finally, it was time for time trials and we had just gotten done warming up for practice. There was two people going ahead of me for our running times to first. I was now up and bolted from home to first and as soon as I felt my right leg hit the bag, it felt like my muscle was ripped from my leg and it hurt to take any more steps. I’ve never felt that kind of pain before and I may have overreacted in the moment, but that was a pain I will not forget.
Once a week I was also required to do an hour long cardio class. I remember my heart pounding so hard after class I thought I might collapse. To help me eat healthy I was to record all that I ate the three months before testing for my black belt. Furthermore, I wanted to do my best so I would even do some training that was not required of me. During the week I enjoyed heading to the track to do a mile run because I wanted to be as fast I could for my
Within the next sixth months, I told myself that I was going to train for a 5k or 3-mile run. By the 7th grade, I told myself that I was going to run the Papa John’s 10 miler and did so. In 8th grade, I ran my fist mini marathon. For the next three years I ran two more. Then the summer before my junior year of high-school, I decided that I was going to train for a full marathon.
The first few weeks of the season were tough, but I was determined to reach my goals as a sprinter. I worked my hardest in all that the coach had us do, but I especially focused on the sprints because the next week was when the coach told us what our races were going to be according to how we did in the practices. I was almost sure of my spot as a sprinter because I was the second fastest kid on the team, but the next week was “the moment of truth.” Monday had come of the next week, and it was time for practice. I can still remember the anticipation as the coach read off the lists and positions of each person. I was shocked to discover that the coach had placed me in the middle distances rather than the sprints.