I am standing at the starting line, and my palms start to sweat. A rush of adrenaline surges through me as the gun goes off, and my body starts moving. I can feel every movement in my legs, right, left, right. My heart starts pounding, and I can feel sweat droplets on the back of my neck. I can hear the earbuds blasting rock music on the guy running on my left, and hear two women saying what they’re going to eat after the race is over on the right. I get to mile three, and my heart is at a fast and steady pace. There is a steep hill coming up, and I pounce up on my toes and bring my knees to my chest, embracing the amount of work it takes to get up this monstrous climb. At mile six, my legs start to hurt a tiny bit. I know that I need to keep going, so I turn the middle-aged woman next to me, and we create small talk. She paces ahead of me as I slow down for the next incline. At mile 12, my legs want to give out. My lungs want to collapse, but there is a small percentage of energy and passion in my heart that tells me to finish. “Don’t give up, keep running”, I tell myself. As I approach the finish line, my legs go numb, and my cheeks turn into a glowing smile as I throw my hands up in the air and cheer while crossing the finish line. I can hear thousands and thousands of people cheering their loved ones on with cowbells (a sign of good luck in the sport of running) and I go to get my medal. I spot my dad waiting behind the spectator fence, and I run and hug him as he says, “I’m so proud of you, Annie”.

I started running when I was 15-years-old, and it was not “peaches and cream” from the beginning, let me tell you. One day, I started running around the block, my face blotchy red, and my legs bursting with pain. But something in me, I can’t explain what it is, told me to keep going. "Keep pushing past your limits," the voice in my head encouraged. That’s exactly what I did. I started running one day and never stopped. As of today, I have completed five half-marathons in five different cities (Princeton, Disney, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and Trenton) and will soon be running the Rutgers UNITE Half Marathon next month.

It takes a lot of self-discipline to be where you want to be as a runner. I ran farther and farther each day until my legs couldn’t take it anymore. Your mind is what controls your body, and running allowed me to control when I wanted to keep going, and when it was okay to stop. But what was even better was that not only did running teach me self-discipline in the sport, but it taught me to use self-discipline somewhere else in my life-the classroom. When I wanted to stop studying for a pre-calculus test after three hours, I told myself to keep going; it was going to pay off. When I had doubts that I wasn't going to get through AP Biology, my mind had insisted differently. I powered through high school and was admitted into one of the best Nursing programs in the state of New Jersey, and I have running to thank for that.

Today, I have worked so hard in college and I thank the sport of running for teaching me what it is to be a driven, diligent athlete and scholar. I look forward to lacing up my Asics and getting outside in the fresh air to do what I love most every day.