The pity clap is the bane of the running world. It is characterized by sympathetic spectators yelling and clapping enthusiastically for the last runner in a race, followed by pats on the back and smiles that lack any true meaning or honesty. The final runner often receives a more spirited welcome than the majority of athletes finishing before them, but the resulting feeling is nowhere near as rewarding as a quieter finish earlier in the competition.
At the finish of my very first cross country race, I was greeted by the pity clap. Turning around after crossing the line and realizing that nobody was behind me was hard. The race was over and I had finished dead last. Finishing last was hard.
The infamous pity clap that was intended to lift my spirits instead left me with feelings of embarrassment and worthlessness. The idea of finishing last ever again completely appalled me. I knew that I could just quit the team, and that was an incredibly tempting idea. It was only middle school; I had plenty of time to search for a natural talent elsewhere. It would have been very easy to quit. But, that’s not what happened.
My failure became my motivating factor to improve. Early morning practice didn’t seem so bad anymore, and I was no longer fearful of increasing my weekly mileage. Most days, it hurt. It was very challenging both physically and mentally (Spoiler Alert: I learned very quickly that running never stops being physically and mentally challenging). I found that progress is anything but an upward slope. It resembles more of a landscape with hills and valleys. Eventually, my times began to improve. I could run two miles in the time that it used to take me to run one. I began to consider myself a competitor as opposed to a participant.
I decided to take my running career to the next level in high school. There I gained even more opportunities that helped me to expand as both an athlete and a person. I started with the chance to travel with the varsity team as an alternate. I continued to set goals for myself, and after many more months of consistent training, I began to consistently compete with the varsity runners. No longer was I hearing the pity clap.
Cross country has helped me develop a sense of tenacity that has touched every aspect of my life. As I prepare to enter my first year of collegiate running, I can’t help but reflect upon this moment of my life and humble myself over what the pity clap did for me. Giving up is no longer an option for me, even on days that I receive a “pity clap” from life. In retrospect, I can easily claim that the experience that had embarrassed me upon initial contact ended up shaping me into a person that I am genuinely proud of being.
The pity clap taught me that you can either submit to life’s challenges, or overcome them. I chose to overcome adversity, and I will continue, time and time again, to make that same choice. To me, these results make that pity clap worth it.
