I Am Worthy.
The icy springtime wind wrapped around my ankles like shackles pulling my feet back into the dry dirt. It whistled brisk, devilish whispers in my ears in an attempt to convince me that an entire season of aching muscles and early mornings was not worth the disappointment I would face at the end of it all. In that moment my heart lit a defensive flame and melted away these discouraging doubts. It was this dedicated heat that would carry me through the highs and lows of that spring, and when it failed, an amazing man would be there to remind me of how much he believed in me.
In the beginning, I had one condition: I was not going to run the 800-meter dash. This was my least favorite race, and I was definitely not tough enough to compete in it. I fought my coach on this decision for weeks until I had finally convinced him not to enter me in it, or so I thought. Our first meet arrived in what seemed to be a matter of days. I did not know until we pulled into the Edgewood parking lot that I would be running in my most hated race. I was boiling with anger as I took the track to await the starting pop of the gun. The air was painfully void of moisture around me as it came to a silent stand-still. The smoky fire from the start clerk broke the calmness and the race was on. I heard the familiar quotes from my coach as I took the first turn, “Stay smooth and listen to me.” My inability to ignore him and scorching competitive spirit landed me a first place medal and a 2:39 to start my season. Most would be overjoyed and excited by these results, but my coach’s “I told you so” grin brought me feelings of dread and regret instead. It was apparent now that I would be running my least favorite race for the duration of the season.
Against my conscious will, each race promised to shave a second or more from my initial speed, confirming over and over that Coach B knew my strengths better than I did. However, I still refused to believe this. At district and regionals, I claimed my silver medal as luck, after all, I was entering the state meet with the slowest time out of all qualifiers. Despite all of this he pushed me harder, adding kindling to my inner fire. In practices, I looked unpromising. My times were slow, my attitude less than enthusiastic. It was apparent to him that I was not giving my all, but he did not give up. Every day he reminded me of what I had to prove in this race. Every day he assured me that I was stronger than I believed I was. My stubbornness remained a weight upon my shoulders until that deciding day in mid-May.
As the sun set, it turned the deep red tar a fiery orange, much like the fire in our eyes. The air was filled with the scraping sounds of spikes connecting with the earth and breath escaping lungs with nothing left to give. Veins were pulsating with the swimming liquids from the anxious pumps of each present heart. Each athlete had a brow full of salty beads and a stomach packed with nervous knots. Above the starting line we could see where the ones with achieved dreams stood. The metallic aroma of their prizes wafted down into our readied nostrils, intensifying the heat of the flames we held within. It was this kindred spirit and that of those who had faith in each of us that had brought us here to stand before a crowd of 10,000 and hear shouts and screams as we came to an unsteady rest at the painted starting point. In the moment of tensed and readied muscles I looked to the stands and saw the familiar face of my greatest supporter. He mouthed the words I had heard over and over for the past three months and for the first time I understood.
“Give yourself a chance,” is the last thought my brain processed before I heard the inspiring bang and my mind went blank. Not a single word passed through the matrix of my head as my feet took turns pounding with determination into the track laid before me. I heard not a shout, felt not an ounce of pain. There was an unidentifiable blaze lit within me that pressed me on further and harder than I had ever run. Among that fire, I saw the face of the man who had brought me here because he knew I was worthy of it all, even when I did not.
As I crossed the finish line and my senses returned to me, I met his gaze. The smile that spread across his face brought a matching one to mine and for the first time I placed a value upon myself as high as the man who had seen it within me all along. With a 2:26 on my watch and a grateful tear in my eye I shook his hand and walked off the track with a new sense of pride.
- Cassidy Seaney ( @cassidyclaires )
