High school is often known as the most important years of one’s life – or the most difficult
years. The leap from 8th grade to freshman year in high school is a large one, and for some people, this transitional phase is often the most challenging part of high school. Not only is there a leap in the difficulties of academics, but extracurriculars tend to step up their game as well. One sport that takes this leap very far is cross country; a sport that I participated in during my freshman year.
Races in middle school were usually one mile, sometimes 1.5 miles. High school cross
country races were always 3 miles, with the exception that the first few freshman races were 2
miles. Going from 2 miles to 3 miles during practice is not a huge difference, but in a race it is a big leap, especially for amateurs. But I’ll be fine, it will be difficult, but I’ll get through it alrightis what I thought. However, things do not always go the way you think. The race was on a school day, so I was pretty pleased to be “skipping” school, but I was also extremely nervous for the race. Just as we finished warming up and completing our strides, we lined up at the start, ready to take off. We all lined up and waited for the sound of the gunshot to send us off. The first half of the race went by rather smoothly. I wasn’t doing exceptionally amazing, but I wasn’t absolutely dying either. I thought that maybe I’ll be able to just complete this race, go home, do homework, and the day will just go by as usual. Again, things do not always go as you think, and this time it certainly did not go the way I thought. Towards the middle of the course, I started to feel a cramp in my stomach. I brushed it off and thought that if I just breathed slower, it would go away. It did not go away– in fact it worsened. It felt like a blade was put in my stomach, and the longer I ran, the deeper the blade cut into the flesh. Gradually, I slowed down and watched one, two, three, five, ten… I lost track of how many girls had passed me. I was down to walking pace, but since this was a race there was no way I was going to walk. As the fatigue and the pressure of being passed sank in, breathing turned into pants, and pants turned into wails, and soon those wails brought tears too. These three miles seemed endless; just as I saw the finish line, the race path led me behind the finish line to another loop. At this point all of my friends had finished their races and were cheering me on, but I just could not run even if my life depended on it. In pain and in tears, I managed to finish the last stretch second to last place. I did not feel triumph or pride when I crossed the finish line, but instead pain and fatigue.
My first 5k did not go well at all. In fact, a candid photo was taken during the race while I
was crying. It was hilarious– my friends and I busted into loud laughter when we saw that photo online during homeroom. Life isn’t fiction– things don’t always go well and have a happy ending.
Looking back though, I had a great season despite the rough start.
years. The leap from 8th grade to freshman year in high school is a large one, and for some people, this transitional phase is often the most challenging part of high school. Not only is there a leap in the difficulties of academics, but extracurriculars tend to step up their game as well. One sport that takes this leap very far is cross country; a sport that I participated in during my freshman year.
Races in middle school were usually one mile, sometimes 1.5 miles. High school cross
country races were always 3 miles, with the exception that the first few freshman races were 2
miles. Going from 2 miles to 3 miles during practice is not a huge difference, but in a race it is a big leap, especially for amateurs. But I’ll be fine, it will be difficult, but I’ll get through it alrightis what I thought. However, things do not always go the way you think. The race was on a school day, so I was pretty pleased to be “skipping” school, but I was also extremely nervous for the race. Just as we finished warming up and completing our strides, we lined up at the start, ready to take off. We all lined up and waited for the sound of the gunshot to send us off. The first half of the race went by rather smoothly. I wasn’t doing exceptionally amazing, but I wasn’t absolutely dying either. I thought that maybe I’ll be able to just complete this race, go home, do homework, and the day will just go by as usual. Again, things do not always go as you think, and this time it certainly did not go the way I thought. Towards the middle of the course, I started to feel a cramp in my stomach. I brushed it off and thought that if I just breathed slower, it would go away. It did not go away– in fact it worsened. It felt like a blade was put in my stomach, and the longer I ran, the deeper the blade cut into the flesh. Gradually, I slowed down and watched one, two, three, five, ten… I lost track of how many girls had passed me. I was down to walking pace, but since this was a race there was no way I was going to walk. As the fatigue and the pressure of being passed sank in, breathing turned into pants, and pants turned into wails, and soon those wails brought tears too. These three miles seemed endless; just as I saw the finish line, the race path led me behind the finish line to another loop. At this point all of my friends had finished their races and were cheering me on, but I just could not run even if my life depended on it. In pain and in tears, I managed to finish the last stretch second to last place. I did not feel triumph or pride when I crossed the finish line, but instead pain and fatigue.
My first 5k did not go well at all. In fact, a candid photo was taken during the race while I
was crying. It was hilarious– my friends and I busted into loud laughter when we saw that photo online during homeroom. Life isn’t fiction– things don’t always go well and have a happy ending.
Looking back though, I had a great season despite the rough start.
