The Run
05/06/2020
How I learned to push myself
“Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.”
~Dean Karnazes
Packed in a spray-painted box with the other nine runners, we waited for the gunshot. Crack! With the other hundred runners, I prepared to pull myself through the hardest race I’d ever have to run. When I first arrived at Roxbury Latin with my nine other teammates who I had spent the season with. We were greeted by an intimidating swarm of people. We walked our way onto the wide field, prepared to do warm ups. We ran up and down the field doing butt-kicks to bounds, stretching our muscles for the most competitive meet of the season. We talked with Mr. Duane; one of the reasons I was so nervous for the meet was because the last time we were here, he pegged me as the hill runner. In reality, the last time I walked the first part of the hill and ran up it later. “This is a really good meet for you, you did super well last time, especially with the hill.” Mr. Duane reminds me. “Heh, yeah.” I chuckle nervously. Finally an air horn sounds. “FIVE MINUTES‘ TIL THE BOYS RACE!” the race official bellows. I walk with my team, chatting nervously, “yeah, I’m so pumped.” I say ironically to Colby.
Finally it’s time. Standing shoulder to shoulder with the team I spent the last few months with, we crouch into the racing position. Ready, set, Crack, we start off with the other 120 runners. I didn’t get off to a great start, I’m near the back, muscling my way in front of kids jogging slowing. A wall of people, all moving in the same direction, and I’m caught behind it. I’m already nervous, I really wanted to do well this meet, and now it seems like I’ll already have no chance of catching up. Colby and Eliot are leagues ahead of me, even though I can see them just a few feet away. But, I keep going, I have to go the long way around a clump of people, I do my best to get to the front. It’s hard though with dozens of other people trying to do the same thing. By the time I reach the bottom of the big hill, I’m out. Now comes the hard part, running long distance.
My pace quickens, it’s only the start of the race and I’m worried I won’t be able to keep it up. “I’ll worry about that later,” I think to myself. Running down even more hills, I think about the worst part of the Roxbury Latin course, the mountain. At the end of one lap, or one mile, there is this nightmare of a hill, extremely steep at first, then has a long, slower incline as you go up.
Now I start to feel a bit tired, I’m used to running two miles, but after one I start to get worn out. I approach the hill, it looms it front of me, like a great monster. I push on, finally hitting the incline. My legs turn to lead. There’s something about hills that makes , my legs become instantly sore. I still run on, faster than before. I make it past the sharp incline and onto the slow rise. I run on. I make it to the top, but there’s still more. The first half of the race is over, now I’m going to have to work even harder.
Now I have only about a fourth of the race left to go, and I feel awful. Part of me feels like just collapsing on the ground, giving up, but I know I can’t do that. Like Odysseus swimming toward his first sign of land in days. I do my best to overtake the person in front of me, forcing my legs to make this final stretch the best it can be. Then it shows up again, the same, awful hill. I decide that I’m going to live up to what Mr. Duane said, and destroy this hill. I have nothing left to lose, slamming my feet against the rough dirt, I overtake one, then another. But I don’t focus on that, I see the top in front of me and I don’t lose sight. I make it to the top, but there is still a field to go. I don’t care if I throw up anymore. A coach to my left is cheering on someone behind me. My vision a blur and my stomach spins, I sprint to the finish.
I clutch to the chain-link fence, coughing and huffing. After waiting for an eternity, I get my place card and collapse on the grass. My hard work payed off.
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