My black and pink Puma all-terrain cross-country spikes have carried me through three years of running. I have worn them for every meet I have ever run at, both cross-country and track. They have carried me across starting lines, through rivers, over mud, and past other runners. Running is a game you have to pay with your mind. Not for one day, not for one second, not for one moment can you break down and say “it’s alright if she beats me, it’s ok if she wins, I’ll get her next time.” You cannot wake up on a race day and tell yourself that you are not ready, that you really don’t want to do this. You can’t. You just can’t.

Nothing about cross-country is easy. You have to watch what you eat all the time, you have to work on your core strength, you have to do things that are uncomfortable, things you don’t want to do, but that will, in the end, make you better. As you suffer through practice, as your lungs burn, as you feel the hot air rush down your cracked throat, you wonder every time you step on the line why you didn’t chose to join another sport, any other sport, just not this sport. You stress about races, your skin gets clogged with dirt and sweat and river water that was splashed up from the numerous feet trotting in the murky water, you eat more than you thought you ever could, and you sleep more than a bear in hibernation. But is it worth it? Why do I keep putting myself through this? There is actually a reason, can you believe it?
I have been running since my freshman year of high school. I would be lost without it. I have played soccer since kindergarten, I’ve been kicking a soccer ball around for as long as I can remember, and I miss it. The freshly cut grass, the skill and attentiveness you need when you cast your eyes about the field, the feeling of making an awesome pass, or saving a goal. But, I found something a little better. I found myself at my first cross country practice knowing only two people, having run not once during the summer, and doubting if I had made the right decision. My parents urged me to keep playing soccer, but I felt like rebelling. Most kids rebel against their parents by dying their hair darker than the dead of night, getting piercings and taking up smoking, but I guess I’m the type of person to go against my parents wishes and do something even physically harder than I was already doing. But, it was all for good reason.

As the cool, autumn air gets pulled down your throat and fills your lungs with a refreshing burst of oxygen, as you look up from the gold, orange and scarlet, leaf trodden ground, as you look through the mist of a sun streaked trail, you find pure bliss. There is a point in the season where the workouts don’t hurt as bad and you feel better, healthier. You experience clarity with every step as the thoughts and stresses of the school day evaporate with the afternoon dew. When you exercise, the brain releases endorphins, which are neurotransmitters that mimic the effects of taking heroin or speed. You get a natural high, every day.

If you see a bunch of high school girls bundled up in sweatshirts and running leggings out jogging in forty-degree snowy weather, you might pity us. You might proclaim “what kind of crazy people like running that much? “, and wonder why we do what we do. And you’d be right, we are crazy. We are stubborn, narrow minded people who refuse to see not the barriers and obstacles in our way, but the goals we set out to accomplish. We force ourselves in uncomfortable conditions so we can improve and learn from experience. Running, as so often it seems, is about what you you did in your last race, or how many miles ran last week. It is in essence, something more because running doesn't build character, it reveals it.