Sacrificing the gift.

My cross country career started early- 4th grade to be precise. It was the only sport a 4th grader could play at my private school and I decided to give it a shot. Naturally it was only a mile but I trained hard, ran all summer, and got second place in my first race. The first place competitor, red faced and out of breath, was mere steps in front of me. I was only a tad winded and pink in the face and thus my parents and coaches encouraged me to shoot for first. Physically I could definitely handle running a faster race, winning the whole thing, but mentally I couldn't. I couldn't do it. Every race I fell further and further away from that place, frustrating my parents and my coaches. All of my friends had "their sport", identifying as a hockey player or a softball player. I didn't want to be a runner. It just wasn't cool. This, along with my consistent underperformance set up for the most frustrating seasons to come. Every once in a while, I look back on those races

. A couple more steps and everything would have been different. But now I will never know. 

My 5th and 6th grade seasons were roller coasters. I would be able to run 5 miles a day on the treadmill but in a race was unable to run a mere 1 under a 6:30. I vividly remember one time where my dad told me he would pay me $100 to run so fast that I threw up on my shoes. I will never forget that look in his eyes when I gave up. It got so bad that people began to question how my practice performance and race performance were so different. After the state meet my 6th grade year, unable to make the one simple goal set for me, my parents set me to therapy. 

Therapy isn't like the movies. There's no laying on a couch explaining everything to a doctor writing on a simple notepad. However once you start to pick at issues, your whole life begins to unravel. I am a perfectionist, deathly afraid of failure. So afraid of failure that I would rather not try than find out my best is not good enough. I intentionally sabotage myself so I won't ever be not good enough. I was only 11 years old. I had a horrible mental voice in my head all the time, constantly putting myself down. My 7th grade year my team won state and my 8th grade year my team won conference but I struggled. My performances did not improve and I began to blame everyone else for my problems. I was taken out of therapy and I just decided to be done running. To leave that nightmare in my past and move on, with more regrets than any 13 year old should ever have.

After a season of high school volleyball and basketball, I found track. More specifically I found this weird little field event called triple jump. Triple jump is magic. It's flying through the air, powerful and yet graceful all at the same time. The technique required enough concentration that the mental voice was kept at bay and I didn't sabotage myself, eventually even placing 9th at sections. However for sprinting, I fell back into my usual habits. I began to identify myself only as a jumper, thinking I would never be a runner again.

Sophomore year I joined back into cross country. That was one of the best years ever. I met some of my best friends and made the craziest memories. I struggled a bit with the 5K distance mentally but I made a plan that actually worked, including chanting "you can do this" while running up a hill and running to the beat of a fast song in my head. My state hopes for track plummeted in triple as I forced myself too hard in an effort to get what I wanted more than anything. I dislocated my hip and pinched my sciatic nerve, making jumping almost impossible. After a jump, my back would go numb all the way from my shoulder to my toes. My running didn't get any better as I attempted to deal with the issue of crippling anxiety when racing. I'd finish my race, and after a second I would be recovered enough to run another one.

Junior year of cross country I didn't work as hard as I did sophomore year. We took more breaks and I didn't give every workout my all. I didn't even make a varsity race or letter. That, combined with my last track season, made me extremely depressed and anxious. The negativity swallowed me up, affecting almost every single aspect of my life. I joined winter weightlifting for track and built up a lot of muscle. When track season rolled around, I had really toned arms and crazy big thighs (great for jumping...not great for lots of other things). I'd get up to my blocks and look over into the next lane, feeling so out of place. All of these girls were skinny; skinny arms, skinny legs, skinny torsos, ect. I was not. I may have been muscular but I just felt fat. On top of that, my favorite jumps coach began coaching a different event and I was stuck with a coach that didn't know me or my struggles. For roughly half the season, I fought him but eventually it worked out. My jumping began to take off and I PRed for the first time in 2 years. I made state honor roll, first athlete for my school. But at conference, I watched my teammate break the school record right before my flight. It was crushing to watch somebody waltz in there and effortlessly break a record that you sweated for, cried for, and bled for two years in a row. Instead of running down that runway and crushing that record, my anxiety kicked in, my negativity took over, and I cracked. I blew it and spent roughly 3 hours crying about it. Turns out, I came back from that mental defeat, placing 6th in sections but still not breaking the record.

Senior year. Do or die. The last chance you may ever get. This past season was the last of my cross country career for good. To be very honest, I regret most of it. I was a captain but I went from the seventh runner (2 years ago) to the second slowest. I don't look like the average cross country runner, I barely look like a jumper. I am a healthy weight but I have jumper thighs and a not super skinny torso. Ultimately, I didn't work hard enough or put in enough time and that is something I will have to live with my entire life. But I have decided to stop dwelling on the past and to live in the moment. I'm spending my time in preparation for track. I've never gave it my all in any race ever, usually sabotaging myself instead, staying where I am comfortable. But this could be it. If I don't get the opportunity to jump in college, my career will be over. I am determined to not end my high school season with any more regrets. I will go to state, I will race with my all, I will try my best. You owe it to yourself to always try your best, to not have regrets, to not make the same mistakes I did.

"To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift."
-Steve Prefontaine

- Anonymous