I've always had a love/hate relationship when it came to exercise. From a very young age, I'd convinced myself that I simply wasn't someone who fit into the "athlete" mold. And I wasn't wrong, being a person who was not only clumsy and shy, but also highly non-competitive; it was no wonder that I spent a majority of my life straying away from anything too athletic.

Sure, I liked to play sports for the fun of playing them, but I was always discouraged by my lack of athletic ability and talent. Not to mention, I also felt an intense amount of pressure from my teammates to be a better player. Until recently, my largest contribution to a sport was when I played softball during the summer in the years leading up to middle school.

This was meant to be a fun, low-stress obligation, but it never felt that way to me. When I missed, struck out, or didn't catch a ball, I took my teammates' disappointment to heart — so much so that I remember an occasion when I cried when my team had lost a game. I had amounted all of my mistakes to the loss of the entire game, which in essence, was not only illogical, but also ridiculous. I mean, this was a summer recreation softball team, not professional, or even at the high school level. But me, being the hyper-critical and person I am, decided I was the worst athlete ever and therefore, should stay away from anything remotely competitive. I was just wasting time and space for those who are actually athletically inclined.

I could have easily chalked up my frustration to being young and kept trying competitive sports, but I opted to stay away from them all together from that point on. That was, until I discovered running.

Honestly, my first attempts at running were terrible. I absolutely despised it. I hated feeling out of breath, sweaty, and having to stop so frequently. My self-doubt was constantly hanging in the back of my mind reminding me how terrible I was and encouraging me to stop trying. And the majority of the time, it took power over me.

Running remained a minor interest of mine until I was talked into joining the cross country team during the fall of my senior year of high school. I knew it was a little crazy to have picked up a sport as a novice when the others on my team had been training for years, but I thought, why not? Anyone that runs cross country knows it requires someone slightly crazy to participate anyway.

The first couple weeks of cross country were rough to say the least. I was not only exhausted, but frustrated and a little embarrassed, as well. I had known I wouldn't be able to compete with most of my team, just for the sheer lack of training I had, but I had no idea how much that would bother me. I remember being so embarrassed by my times because they weren't as fast as the other girls on my team. My lowest point was crying after a tough race, where my time was less that what I had wanted. What I had failed to realize was that I had actually improved from the previous race.

Looking back, I wish I would have looked beyond the surface. Sure, I wasn't the fastest runner on the team, but I was not only improving as a runner, but I was doing fantastic things for myself. I was gaining an intense amount of self-confidence and an astonishment for what I could accomplish. Maybe I was an athlete after all. Besides, even the best runners and the most talented people in all areas had to start somewhere.

As my times started to lessen and my body grew stronger both mentally and physically, I loved the person I was becoming. My grades were improving, my self-image was becoming more positive, and I was finally stepping out of my comfort zone and meeting new people. I truly felt unstoppable in all areas of my life.

One of the best days of my life was the day I ran 13 miles with my team. I was finally able to just relax. It wasn't about the time anymore. It was that I set out to do something and I did it. No one cared that I was one of the last ones to finish. We were all just happy and proud to have done something together.

After all that time, the only person I was competing with was myself. It took a fantastic support system through my team and coach for me to stop stifling myself and my abilities. Cross country not only helped me develop lasting and meaningful relationships with my teammates, but with myself as well.

To this day, running is one of my favorite outlets. On a particularly stressful day, I love to step back and lace up my sneakers. If I can keep running, I can do anything. Even on tough days, when I want to stop, I know I can keep going and accomplish so much more. I will never be the fastest or strongest, but that's okay if I'm improving.

I've come a long way from the girl who was once afraid to step foot into a gym or run the mile in gym class.

So thank you, cross county,

Thank you for helping me build my confidence. Thank you for teaching me persistence and reminding me how good it feels to accomplish a goal. Thank you for teaching me that my best look isn't a dress and high heels, but some running shorts and a worn out pair of Nikes. Thank you for teaching me to wear the sweat on my forehead like a crown. Thank you for giving me some of my best friends and my first relationship.

And most importantly, thank you for reminding me that skill does not make an athlete, but desire and positive work ethic do.