It's Been a Long Road

It all started when I was in eighth grade. I had hurdled in track the past two years, and my friend group was made up solely of other runners. My friends had been saying that the cross country team was low on team members, and encouraged me to join. I was reluctant at first, but was eventually guilted into joining the team.

I was not very enthusiastic at first, I had not ran over two miles in my entire life. But somehow I stuck with it and was happy when I began to lose weight. I was surprised at our first meet when I finished third for the team, and fifth overall in the small middle school meet. The rest of my season went downhill from there, but that's not what this story is about. 

My freshman year of high school, I decided to run cross country again. I had stayed in decent shape over the summer, but not great shape. I finished most of the workouts first for a few weeks, but I had a burnout similar to my prior season. Overall, during my freshman year, I was a very average runner.

Outdoor track season came around, and that winter I had thought a lot about running. I kept in better physical condition than any of my teammates, and things were looking to be heading in the right direction. My coaches still expected me to run the hurdle races; no one else on the team could. I agreed to this, but also said I wouldn't mind running the 1600 or 3200 on occasion. Soon thereafter, our main distance runner, my best friend, discovered she had tibial stress fractures in both legs. It was my job to step up to the plate and run all the distance races.

I had not trained to run distance, so performances were a little shaky at first. I placed about third every meet in the 800, 1600, and 3200. I was not satisfied with such poor performance, so I upped my mileage. I attend a very small school, so my coaches did not really care about track that much. I trained myself for a majority of the season. Sectionals rolled around, and I placed ninth in the 1600 and 3200. I obviously was pretty upset. 

My coach told me to take at least a week off from running, but I can remember walking away from him and saying, "Screw that." The next day I went out and ran a quick three miler, and after that, I accompanied my running buddy, a senior on the boys' team, for his pre-regional workout. This was about the time when I realized I wanted to be more serious about running.

The entire summer, I ran every day, never diverting from the training plan I had made. I crosstrained on a bike and in the pool, did abdominal workouts, and did not take any days off except for the Lord's day. I was sick of my mediocrity. I would have bad races in the future, I knew that, but I never wanted to finish any further back than the top 25% in a meet ever again.

That summer was a very emotional time for me. My grandpa had just passed away that April. My family was a mess. My friends had begun to exclude me from outings. I felt very alone. Running gave me a way out. Running wouldn't ever leave me. It wouldn't die, and it for sure wouldn't go to Olive Garden without me. I started to withdraw socially, and that taught me something big.

Cross country season came quicker than ever before. I had a new coach, and her strictness shone through on the day I met her. We didn't begin on very good terms; I wasn't used to listening to direction. I always ran what I planned to run. We still aren't the greatest together even now, but we both respect each other. 

The postseason begins Monday. It's been a long road, but I'm ready.

- @pigeonpen2 ( Ava Mattox )