I’ve found a new purpose in life. I have matured and grown and progressed. I am healthy, happy, and I have something to look forward to every day.
I’m doing cross country, and the sport has done much more for me than provide daily exercise. I have a routine, and I feel productive. Joining a team has taught me dedication, commitment, and support. I always heard about the fact that exercise gives you endorphins, but I didn’t believe it until now.
The nerves have just started to kick in, creating a hard knot in my stomach and a nauseous feeling. I don’t want to race, the lack of sleep over the past week is finally hitting me. I can feel the contents of my lunch swishing, as if they are waiting to be regurgitated. I take my place at the start, a good distance behind the better runners. The coaches give a few words of encouragement, which only increase my nervousness. I take one final breath and tell myself I am going to do well. The coach fires the gun, and we’re off.
It’s almost the end of the race, and the only thing I can think of is that finish line. The red finish line, with all the parents standing there cheering, medics nearby. My breathing comes in ragged amounts, when it comes at all. I have been running, and running, with no thought of anything except when I will finish. The other noise is simply background, voices in the far off distance that mean nothing to me. As I turn into the last stretch, I see my best friend, a much better runner than me. The fact I am close to her motivates me to run faster and better. We see each other, and finish together. Crossing the finish line, we catch our breath and smile, knowing that we are finally done.
As we are running throughout the neighborhood, I breath in the humid September air, and the smell of the grass and the flowers. I cross the street, and see the best sight of my life. A lawn sprinkler, shooting cold, icy water, perfect for cooling off. I waste no time in running up to the sprinkler and dousing myself. The water splashes me completely, making my friends and I laugh, as it creates a giant stain on the back of my shorts.
It’s almost the end of the varsity race, and I wait for my friend to finish. I see the first, second, third runner finish their races. It’s not a pretty sight. They come running, desperate to be done, breathing heavily, red faces. Many of them collapse onto the grass, or can barely even stand. This is the most intense part of the sport, athletes pushing themselves until their bodies can no longer take it. This kind of response is expected and normal for runners. For a beginner like myself, I am shocked, but I soon realize that I am alone in this. The good part is that as soon as they recover, their fast times will be the only thing that matters.