Breath by breath, step by step, inhale, exhale, just breathe. Every runner knows the drill: in through the nose and out through the mouth, control your breathing, watch your form, eyes up. You hear people shouting at you but you can't decipher what they're saying. You just keep going. You see your coach through the corner of your eye and she's running beside you shouting commands, telling you to straighten up and get the next girl in front of you. When you close in on the last 100 yards, your strides get longer and your arms start pumping faster. This is it, stride out, sprint. You cross the finish line and you stumble to a stop as if the wind were knocked right out of you. The feeling of the finish is impeccable. You feel great, you feel alive, you feel like you could go again.
I grew up running. Apparently when I was only 2 years old, I ran home from a park with my dad following close behind me. He let me do my thing. I didn't know it would be my thing, but my parents did since I was two. Amazing, right? Growing up on the playground, I would challenge the fastest boys in tag. By the time I was in third grade I was given the nickname "Wheels." Come sixth grade, I ran mile-races for the cross country team, and would run the mile in six minutes. I grew up on the runner's high.
As I grew older, I learned a little bit more about running, and how I could use it for the rest of my life.
I learned that it is a team sport.
Starting off on Varsity as a freshman I learned that I wasn't just there for myself, I was there to help push my team. We did every run together, slacking off wasn't an option. Yes, some of us were at different speeds but we still pushed each other and motivated one another to go harder, to get the most out of our workout. In races we would find that we could run in packs and even then team up and push each other to catch the next group in front of us. In cross country, your team is your greatest support. You cheer each other on, you spend Saturday mornings together sometimes serious, sometimes goofing off. Ultimately in those short seasons, your cross country team is your family, and that's something you can keep with you forever.
I learned the importance of form.
I never actually developed a good form but I learned what a good form looks like. Your back is straight, your eyes are up. Your arms aren't crossing your body because that's a waste of energy. Your strides have to be under your hips, short, and at a cadence of 180 beats per minute. Once I sort of fixed my form, I was running faster, more aware of what was in front of me, who was in front of me. It helped me set my goals in a race and accomplish them. It also reduced the chances of getting injured. Stress fractures, shin splints, hip problems, can all be prevented with the correct form.
I learned mental toughness.
Most know the struggle of starting a run, and continuing to run. Sometimes you're too tired or sore and your legs just don't want to move. Being able to get through that is mental toughness. Mental toughness is disregarding all the reasons telling you not to do it. Mental toughness is conquering the barriers between you and a solid run. I have days where if I don't wake up at 5 a.m. and just go then I won't do it at all. You just have to get it out of the way. My high school coach stressed the importance of mental toughness because some of us psyched ourselves out with pain and overall the will to do anymore. She pushed us and challenged us and we did what we could to satisfy her and ourselves at the end of the race. Mental toughness is important in all sports, and even can be applied to real life situations and relating to discipline. School, homework, going to to work out, getting through that mental barrier you can accomplish anything.
I learned to trust my body.
My freshman year I went through a rough patch at the end of the season. I unknowingly became anemic, and oxygen wasn't circulating through my body because I was doing a lot and my blood levels were low. This caused me to develop a stress fracture in my left shin. At the time I didn't know it was that, but I was slow, my breathing was heavy, and I didn't have a clue what was going on. But I told myself I had to push through and I had to run in regionals to help my team. My practices consisted of elliptical training so I didn't run the last few weeks of the season. The day of regionals I warmed up but couldn't go five minutes without blacking out. I knew I couldn't run in the race. This was only minutes before the gun went off signaling the start. I told my coach and she was disappointed, my team understood and I was disappointed in myself. I didn't run in regionals that day, but a week or so later I found that if I had run in that race I could have been passed out somewhere on the course. So to this day I am grateful that something in my head told me not to run that race.
It's not just the running that gave me that runner's high, it was my team who turned out to be my family, it was the connections I made, the friendships I developed. It was learning that there was more to running than just that. It was figuring myself out, my mental toughness, what my body tells me. To this day I still run, not as intensely as I used to, and I miss the competitiveness that it brought, but I am forever grateful for what it taught me. One of my favorite things about running, is that you can do it for the rest of your life.
