High School Cross Country


(Continued from this post.)

At my first cross country practice, I was the second-to-last person on the team to finish the route.

I was tired, I was aching, I was... hooked. As I gasped for breath and glanced around at my new teammates during cool down, I knew two things: first, I had a lot of room to improve in the season ahead, and second, I really wanted to do it. I was used to lacking natural talent for athletics, but I had not felt motivated to become less bad at a physical activity since the heyday of my dance career. Running solely for the pleasure of it (and not, for example, to flee from an angry alligator in a bayou) no longer seemed like such a ridiculous thing, and I very much wanted to be a part of the easy camaraderie that was obvious among the girls.

Sure enough, run after run, week after week, I got stronger and faster. And there is no rush like stepping up to the starting line of a race, tingling with adrenaline and anticipation about the course to come. I wish I could say that I worked my way from back-of-the-pack to front runner, but I was mid-pack even at my best. (Although did score points for my team once when a poorly marked trail caused the fastest girls on both teams to take a wrong turn.) My pace was strong and consistent though, and more importantly, it was through cross country that I realized my ability to do hard things.


In addition to an appreciation for running and a confidence boost, the cross country team also gave me a very dear lifelong friend. I admired Allison from my first track season, as she was a stand-out runner as well as funny and kind. We grew close during cross country and eventually served as co-captains together our senior year. It was the perfect ending to high school.





What will stay in my heart forever are the memories of times that I struggled with injuries or cramps, and instead of pushing forward to run her fastest race, she stayed with me to cross the finish line together. (This was our senior year when a new crop of younger runners could be counted on to win the points for our team – other than when they were lost in the woods, of course.) I would huff at Allison to go on ahead as I struggled, and she would simply refuse. 

*sniff sniff*

She stayed with me through those difficult races so I wouldn't feel so disappointed and alone, and even though she currently lives 2,000 miles away in a land where the beer always flows and the cheese always... does whatever cheese does, I can count on her just the same today. I will always be grateful to Allison for being such a true friend, and grateful to cross country for bringing us together.

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