I remember the moment he slapped me on the back and said "Welcome to the track team". I was distraught. Part of my heart still lay in fields of grass, flying down sidelines, looking to kick. But letting that go changed everything. I remember the senior boy who with so much grace said "It's a big decision" after inquiring if I would be joining him on the track. Fear, moving on, pounding. And more pounding. I gave my legs to hallways, gym floors, fake carpet, hard rubber, gravel, blacktop and cement. Skin and bones my legs swung me all the way to gagging on the line of a blue track in front of the crowd, shiny tube in hand. But I still finished. I found a niche. I found purpose.

I remember the spanish teacher that told me "you should join the cross country team". Que ridiculo. Who in their right mind wants to race for three miles. I did it anyway. I don't quite know why, but it called me. I don't know how to explain it. How do you explain the change. How do you explain the fulfillment of sacrificing sleep to run under the rising sun. How do you explain the joys of running on grass and gravel and dirt roads. How do you explain the exhilaration in burning legs and lungs. How do you explain the excitement in success. How do you explain the drive to come back when you're forced down. How do you explain the peace in the sound of heavy breathing and feet hitting the ground. How do you explain that a group of people can radically improve who you are. How do you explain that a single day can solidify everything and alter the course of your life. How do you explain how it becomes a part of who you are. How do you explain.

The penultimate race. I took to the line with the intention only to fly. I swear I almost did. Rain fell, but gray skies make for great races. And the joy of a pounding heart was bright enough. I lowered my head and waited for the explosion of noise and moving bodies. Then I went. Two minutes and sixteen seconds of heart and strength and hope spread out across hard black rubber. The final curve & straight driven solely by "I want it". I crossed the line to be encircled by girls covered in green and white and raincoats. He slapped me on the back, gave me a hug and said "I'm proud of you". Years had passed. Faith & my feet had pulled me through. I found it. Family out of the dust.

…

Note: Running has been an unexpectedly large part of my life. It was just about the only thing I really loved about High School. My high school track career launched me into a collegiate one, and it has been both beautiful & quintessential in developing who I am. (More on that to come). And just for clarity on paragraph one, freshman year our 4x800 relay made it to state and, as the lead leg, I was literally gagging on the line in anxiety. Painful then but in retrospect humorous. :)