I was never very athletic. Hands down, I was the worst member of every team that I somehow ended up on. After trying and failing to be a valuable team player, I never thought that I would be a part of any sport again,
let alone one that I viewed as totally impossible.

I can't pinpoint the exact reason why I joined the team; the only running I had ever done was a 10-minute mile in middle school and I really hadn't planned on trying to beat that any time soon. All of the girls on the cross-country team were speedy, long-legged stallions and I was like a weird, homely sloth that only dreamed of moving that fast. Once the pre-season workouts started I realized how out of shape I was and I had thoughts of quitting every five minutes. At the same time, I needed to prove to myself that I could stick with the commitment I'd made. I'd backed down from enough challenges in my short athletic career and struggled with being under-qualified and overweight for as long as I can remember. It was time to stop (or start) running.

The first thing that I learned is that running is a pain in the ass. Everyone assumes that runners do what they do because they have some crazy, insatiable need to be in constant pain. This is false; even the best runners in the world probably hate running, but hating the physical act of running is not the same thing as hating running as a sport. It's a wild, untamed love/hate relationship that you can only understand if you experience it. The love part comes from everything else about running: being strong both physically and mentally, feeling like you accomplished something great, and competing against yourself to beat your own goals. There is nothing more rewarding than beating your own personal best and knowing that you worked hard to get there.

Unlike any other team sport, the only person who can do the work is you. Nobody can make you run faster or farther; your success is entirely up to you. Although you have to be in good shape to run, it relies a lot more on mental strength than physical ability. Runners are fueled exclusively by their own motivation and pasta. I learned responsibility, integrity, and just how powerful I really am by getting out there every day and never giving in to voices in my head that said I wasn't good enough. Sure, maybe I always came in last place during a race, but if I beat my personal best then it felt like I'd won the Olympics. With that being said, the strongest people that I know, both inside and out, are runners. It takes a different kind of strength to get out there every day and push yourself to be the absolute best that you can be.

I also learned that it's OK to have bad days. Every run is a battle between your body and your mind, between giving in to weakness or reaching for that deeper strength. Strength doesn't always win, and that's okay. You can't be your absolute best every single day because obviously that would just be exhausting. It's important not to beat yourself up on your "bad days" because you're allowed to have them; you're only human. Some days you simply can't keep up. If anything, having a bad run only sets you up to be better next time. You can have your weak moments, but your ability to pick yourself back up the next day and try again says everything about your character.

Running is all about motivation and hard work -- the more you put in, the more you'll get out. I have the utmost respect for anyone who pushes themselves to hit the pavement, even if you can't go more than a half mile. It's about having the courage to go to war with your body and your mind and about finding your own strength. I want to give a huge thank you to all of the girls on my team, even though I only ran one year, you guys gave me motivation and taught me not to give up on myself. You guys rock.