How Cross Country Runs My Life

It is at the two mile mark, my heart is pounding and my lungs are expanding and contracting as I struggle to keep myself fueled with oxygen. I see the clock which eches the numbers 11:20 into mind. I see a group of coaches giving their athletes advice and parents yelling out motivation. All I can hear is the other runner splashing through the mud, splits, and motivation from parents and coaches. I see my coach, Mr. Earl, he is wearing a black rain jacket and has a stopwatch in his hand. As I run past him, he says that one of our top five runners is hurting from a previous injury and that I need to make up for him. Can I make up for him? Will I let my coach down? Can I overcome the weight of the pressure?

I step out of my mom’s silver minivan, my red bag in hand, Bedford XC written on it in black letters. It holds my black and red spikes as well as my water and cashews for after the race. My face is hit by the crisp November air, it is about 55 degrees outside. Dark clouds hang above and I feel the light autumn breeze. My eyes are filled with the view of the Michigan International Speedway. I see the dark tunnels made of cold concrete. I make my way towards the tunnels thinking of the race ahead. As I make my way out of the tunnels I see the enormous race track as well as a sea of tents and flags from other teams.  I also see the bright orange cones and white lines marking the course and the finish line marking the end of my cross country season. As I make my way onto the muddy grass, I wonder, how will I find my tent. My long, dark hair begins to be blown by the wind. I stretch my long legs as I wait for my parents to catch up.  My glistening eyes wander around taking in the area and the people. My strides are long and slow as we make our way towards the tent. My long and skinny arms carry my bag. My face is emotionless as we continue on.

I finally find my tent and am greeted by the other state runners. We all just sit down and relax while we wait for everyone else to show up. While we wait, we listen to some music, as well as talk about what times we hope to get. Some runners stretch out while we wait, I prefer to just do nothing. After what feels like an eternity, everyone has arrived and we begin our warm up. We jog most of the course slowly, we are not able to run the last 1k. After about 15 minutes, he head back to the tent to put on our spikes and get our bib numbers. Once that is all said and done, we jog over to the starting line and go our plyos and strides. Then we do our team prayer and chant and get ready to start.There is a light breeze, dark clouds block out the sun. Everyone is positioned on the line, our bodies are motionless. Our breathing slowed as we prepare for over 15 minutes of running and pain. My heart is pounding. Everyone is thinking, “this is it, why we have endured all the pain.” As the gun is about to be shot, which would start the beginning of the last race, the inevitable happens, thunder booms and echoes around us. Everyone lets out a sigh, for everyone knows of what will come next. The officials voice cuts through the wind, the race has been postponed. Disappointed and little upset, we head back to the tent to wait out the 30 minutes. The time goes by relatively quickly and we head back out. About half way out to the starting line, thunder booms through the sky and the race gets postponed again. By this time everyone is pretty annoyed but there is nothing we can do. With about five minutes left of our 30 minute wait, thunder is heard again for the third, and thankfully final time. We head back out to the line, redo our plyos and strides, and then get positioned on the line. We all stare ahead waiting for the gun to go off. The gun goes off and adrenaline take over as we begin sprinting the first 400m of the race.

The first mile, naturally, goes by fast. The course takes on a trip outside of the stadium through mud and puddles. The second mile is the worst because that is when you really starting feeling the pain and soreness. Soon after we pass the two mile mark I pass our fifth place runner hoping he speeds up and stays, however he does not. We head back into the stadium next to the turn on the track. This is the final 1k of the race. The track is on my right with poles on my left to stop anyone from cutting the turn. This turn is one of the worst due to all the rain, which leaves the inside of the turn muddy forcing us to run on the outside of the turn slowing us down. We finish the turn and begin the last 400m of the race. My legs are burning and my lungs are gasping for air as a struggle to keep running. Hundreds of eyes are on us but I feel they are all on me watching me as my legs propel me towards the finish line as fast as they can. My arms are pumping along in rhythm with my legs and I know this is the end. My hands are numb from the cold and they feel like they are going to fall off. My legs are coated in mud and my hair is dripping water from the rain. 50, 40, 20 meters left. As I cross the finish line, relief and happiness fill my body as I know I am done and have ran a 17:27 5k, a new best for me. I almost collapse on the ground due to exhaustion, however, I keep walking to find the rest of my team and my parents. We all meet up at the tent and head out to do our cool down. After we finish cooling down, we put our stuff back in our bags and head back home.

In the end, this race as well as many others and the cross country season all together have really shaped my life. Cross country has been a way to get away from the stress of school and life. It allows me to hang out with friends and get in some exercise. It also led to me having many great friends that I meet during my first two years of cross country and that I am extremely thankful for. It has taught me the value of hardwork and dedication and has been a positive influence on my life. While it might suck running over ten miles on a long mileage day or running a track workout in the blazing heat, I am still happy that I do it because of the physical and emotional benefits it has given me and the impact it will forever have on me.