"Runners to your marks." "Set." BANG!! The last few words that you hear before the race. Feeling the adrenaline flowing through your body, being anxious and nervous at the same time, picturing the race and crossing the finish line. To me, that is what is happening in my perspective before every race that I ran in track. This is my experience with track and field.

It started in middle school. I was in the seventh grade and was unsure what sport to participate in. I stopped playing baseball the year before because of the coaches were unfair, I wasn't a football player (but I still played), and I was no wrestler like my dad. Even though my dad said that I could have been a great wrestler, I couldn't see it. On my dad's side of the family, the males had their specialty sport(s). My grandpa had baseball and bowling. My dad had football and wrestling. At this time in my life, I couldn't figure out what my specialty sports were. So one day, one of my great friends suggested that we should go out for track. I told him that I was not familiar with it nor do I know what it was exactly. He said that if I like to run, then track would be perfect for me. The next day, I was at practice with him, and I was not sure what to expect or who was going to be there or what was going to happen. There were some of my classmates and some older guys there as well. It made me really nervous about if they were going to talk about me or if they were going to make fun of me with reasons that I was not sure about. Then, the coach came in and told us to warm up and run to the track, since we were in the gymnasium and the track was outside.

At the track, I didn't know which event I would be best at. I wasn't really strong, so I wasn't a thrower, I didn't like a long distance, I wasn't the fastest, and I wasn't the best jumper. I thought that I was horrible and felt like I had no reason to be there. But, there was one event that I didn't try: that was hurdling. It looked pretty neat to do because while you're running, there is an obstacle in the way for you to go over. There wasn't a lot of hurdlers either because people were scared to try it. Another student and I were the only few to try it and fell in love with it. From that moment on, I knew what I was good at. As I said before, I wasn't the fastest, but my technique was flawless. No one really taught me how to hurdle properly. I had to figure it out on my own and try not to fall. I've fallen quite a few times, but I got right back up and did it again. I fell a lot, and that's okay for a hurdler to fall while racing or at practice--it hurts really bad, though. In eighth grade, I was racing in sectionals, and I was in a heat with three other guys. In order to advance, I just had to place top three out of four. As soon as the gun fires, I was in the lead and about the sixth hurdle, I hit it and fell. Sadly, I finished in fourth. Even though I didn't make it, I finished the race. After the race, my coach said that even though I lost, it was one of the best races that he ever saw because of my commitment to finish. It made me a little sad because I knew that I easily could have made it. Instead, I used that race as motivation to get faster and become better than ever.