Dear cross country,

It's been a while. I know we haven't talked much since my senior year on that final race day. How have you been? Life has kept me busy and crazy, but I'm good. I'm doing well. I hope you are, too.

I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for inspiring me the first time I ever stepped on the course years ago. Thank you for pushing me to be my best and to limits that I didn't know I could break. Thank you for getting me in the best shape of my life, bringing me to some of my best friends in the whole world, and for giving me a second family. Thank you for giving me a purpose and something that I loved.

I have so many amazing memories of you that I can never forget. I remember the first practice I ever attended where I was tempted to quit after two grueling hours in the intense heat and humidity, and the first race I ever ran where the runner's high kept me invested for years. I remember talking with my teammates on our long runs in the fall, rehashing school and venting about what was going on that week. When I look at pictures of you, I remember all the blessings that you gave me and how you helped me realize the potential I had, not just in running, but in life.

And yes, you were wonderful.

But there were also times when I couldn't stand you. In fact, I hated you. I despised you. I never wanted to be around you ever again.

You broke me down more times than I can count. You gave me bruises, sent me to the emergency room, smashed my heart, crushed my dreams, and told me I wasn't good enough. So, no, this letter isn't just a thank you -- it's a screw you.

You lured me into this sport in all the ways you could. I loved you more than I loved anything or anyone...until it became too much. It became unhealthy, and slowly but surely I started losing myself. I defined myself by your standards, and when I didn't meet them, I felt worthless. Like a failure. Like I meant nothing. I have never experienced so much pain from someone as much as I have from you.

Screw you. You stole the excitement that I had for you and trampled it. You wrecked my shins, my mind, my lungs. You were no friend to me for more than a few months. You shoved my anxiety in my face. You sent me into an endless spiral of panic attacks and mental breakdowns. You threw other people's successes in my face and made my errors known to anyone who would listen.

But the worst thing that you did to me, cross country, was you stole my passion. You took my love for running and trampled it. You spit on it, crushed it with your foot, and looked in my eyes as you squeezed every lifeless breath out of it.

I'm not writing this letter to make you feel bad. I'm writing this letter to tell you that even though you may have broken me temporarily, I'm over you. I came out on the other side of our relationship a stronger person and a more confident woman. It doesn't matter that you owned me at one point in my life, because now you are worthless. You can't control me anymore. You don't get to dictate my every move because of my fear of you. I'm in charge of myself now.