A lot of people ask Track and Field athletes why they do it. A lot of Track and Field athletes ask themselves the same thing. I'm one of those athletes who spend majority of their day running, enduring that unforgettable pain, and pushing through those injuries that will come back to haunt me years down the road. Sounds terrible right? It is, but I'm not here to confirm how terrible track can be. I'm here to express why one of the most time consuming, body drenching, hamstring pulling, knee breaking sports is one of the best mistakes I ever chose to do.

At seven years old my mother put me in a day camp with my siblings. At the end of the long summer every year it was tradition to compete in a track meet against another camp. I did a fun relay. I also competed in the standing broad jump competition and received a first place medal. That was my second defining moment that told me I was meant to fly. Yet, even though I truly enjoyed that day I couldn't commit to that sport because gymnastics consumed my life. At the time, tumbling and all that jazz seemed to be my way of flying.

Later on in middle school, I had the opportunity to be blessed with a burden on my chest. At twelve years of age my mother told us that she was diagnosed with breast cancer. At this point in my life I lived in Michigan while my mother resided in Maryland for a better career path. So to hear that my mom was going to struggle a thousand miles away from me struck a nerve. It was a tear worthy defining moment that made me realize that I could lose the woman that birthed me. So throughout 7th and 8th grade I was borderline failing school and it almost seemed like bad news came with a chain of more bad news. I cried sometimes just trying to make it through middle school. It was so hard for me and my mothers sickness was making us so poor. Then one day in big letters i read a sign that said "Join the Track team." So I quit Gymnastics and I joined.

I was so scared to go the first day of practice, so i skipped. The next day I came and the first thing we had to do was run two laps. I died out after the first and that made me upset. I kept working at it day after day. My only goal was to finish two laps. Everytime I got closer to my goal my chest got lighter. When I finally finished those two easy laps for the first time, even though I was gasping for air, it was the first time I could breathe. Track is my sport, it is the thing that kept me sane when I believed my mom was going to die. The pain from running and jumping distracted me from the pain from life. It has been seven years now. Sometimes I try to quit, but the thought of my mom and her strength keeps me going. Even though I'm not much of a runner anymore, I smile just a little after a running workout. I do high jump full time now because it taught me that running is the first step to flying.

So why do I do it? To run from the burdens that try to slow me.