You want a grande finale–who doesn’t? Who wants to dwadle all the way to the end, petering out until the final, un-triumphant ending? The End should be on a high note, a thing to remember. Do this for you, do this for me, do this for everyone. Find the strength from within, remember that strength you never knew you had? Yes, that.
Speaking of that, what do you think happened on my last race? Well, let me dispel any holy-crap-you-made-it-to-nationals notions. No grand finales, no triumphant returns. In fact, it was a pretty dismal, painful, pathetic race. I was last on my team, and placed within the top 100 (out of 250) only because I suddenly realised around the 600 m mark that, uh, this was the last 600 meters I’d ever run as a student athlete (wish I’d realised this on the starting line…), and maybe I’d better finish out strong and pass some people so that at least it wouldn’t all be terrible. I was 92nd…not even close to being top 50 like I’d wanted to be.
I finished my last race in the Dust Bowl. The hundreds of runners who’d run by had stirred up the dust, replicating a Depression era dust storm. Though, it as only fitting that we’d have a pseudo dust storm to finish the season, as we’ve had everything else: earthquakes, hurricanes, thunderstorms, nearby tornadoes, mudslides, blizzards, now a small dust storm (I mean, look at that photo. So…midwest.)
I cried–while driving to the race, stretching, on the warm-up, at the start line, while racing, on the shoulder of my teammates after finishing, during awards. I couldn’t stop. It was one of my housemates who clued me into why I cried so much. Running has been such a part of me, for 7.5 years. My dad told me to run freshmen year “because I had long legs and needed to do something” but it turned out to be one of the most important decisions of my life. Without running, I would have been extremely shy, still in my shell. I would not have gone to my small DIII school, I would not have made so many close friends. I would be chunky and awkward and inactive, I would not be so concerned with staying fit and healthy. I might not be a vegetarian, and I probably wouldn’t like hiking or camping or walking so much, let alone running. Still in my shell, I doubt I would have been confident enough to go to Costa Rica, and later, Barcelona and England. If running built up my confidence and my competitive drive, who knows if I’d be confident enough to be writing on a blog everyone could read right now? I wouldn’t be the person I am to today. I would be boring, I think. Unhealthy, out-of-shape, shy, awkward girl. Okay, I am feeling better about myself right now.
Farewell Cross Country. You have done so much for me.
And this is why I cried.
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