As a senior in high school, you earn positions of power in your clubs and troupes and on your teams. You've been there the longest, you've plowed through the trenches, and you've already been where the freshman, sophomores, and juniors are right now. Senior year is your year, the year that you finally complete what you've done over the course of your high school experience. Except for me...yes, as a senior in high school, I decided to join the cross country team.
No, I wasn't trying to check off a high school sport before college applications were due (I was already a two-year varsity soccer player). No, I wasn't trying to beef up my resume in any way, shape, or form. I joined cross country for an experience, and boy, did I get one.
The season started off well. The team met every weekday over the course of the summer and trained until about 10 am. The workouts weren't hard, and I was able to keep up with some of the more experienced runners with only my minute soccer conditioning. Throughout the month of June, my fitness was obviously improving, and the coaches were beginning to recognize my skill. Then, once July rolled around, I mistakenly took a three week hiatus from running. It began with GHSA's mandatory off week in early July. We had been instructed to run on our own, but foolishly, I did not. My lack of effort only continued when my family and I went on a week and a half long vacation just two days after the GHSA off week concluded. By the end of July, I had lost all of the conditioning that I had built up over the course of June, unbeknownst to my coach, and I was thrust back to the same level that I was at before.
August started, and I was dying. Within the first week of school, life itself came crashing down. I was facing huge amounts of homework, balancing a newly acquired but time-consuming sport, failing to meet my paces and times, participating in clubs, talking to teachers, juggling a semi-long distance relationship, and failing to see my friends. In my four years of high school, my most stressful week by far was that first week of senior year (knock on wood), but to make things worse, on Thursday of that week I got into a car accident. It's as if the pillars that were supporting the pressures of my heavy schedule, partnered with my sanity, broke. Life slapped me in the face, and I cried like a baby. I couldn't do it. It was too much.
I didn't go to practice the next day. I decided that I was quitting the team. I wasn't happy; I was stressed. I had people telling me to quit. I had such a busy schedule that the only solution seemed to be that I had to quit the team. Everything told me to stop, but I kept going. It was weird coming back after my car wreck, but I'm glad I did it. I got to meet some amazing people. I got to learn some amazing lessons. I got to do accomplish physical feats that I never could before.
When I look back on my season, I look back on the person I was. I look back on a boy who could never motivate himself to do anything for his own good. I look back on a boy who would procrastinate and only give 50 percent. When I look into the mirror today, I don't see that boy. Instead, I see someone who is like the other runners on my cross country team. I see someone who emanates the same characteristics as the people who continue to push through a race, even when every bone, muscle, and tendon in their body is telling them to stop, even when every thought in their head is telling them they can't make it, can't do it, aren't good enough. Running takes discipline and character, and as a result, I have the highest degree of respect for my teammates. To dedicate their lives, to change their habits, and to be constantly aware of their environment and conditions is easier said than done, and I've done it.
In my first race of the season, I ran a 5k in 20:22. in my final race of the season, I ran a 5k in 18:18. I finished as the 17th fastest runner on my high school's cross country program. I made friends. I made memories. I learned to keep going, even when life is crashing down on top of you, even when everything, everybody is telling you to stop. I learned to keep going.
