Look at Where You Are, Look at Where You Started
This is for anyone who feels lost in life, let me tell you a story.
Some of my earliest memories are those of me toddling around at 4 years old, trying to kick a ball that seemed bigger than me, eating grapes and sipping on juice pouches during halftime, and caring more about the color of my jersey than winning an actual game. My life truly revolved around soccer. As I aged, I only became more passionate to succeed in the sport I loved so much.
After I tried out for a premier travel team and was selected to become a member, everything I needed to excel at the sport past high school was right in the palm of my hand. I participated in intense practices, exhausting strength training, and elite tournaments all to improve my abilities as a player. I felt hopeful that soccer could be a legitimate future for me.
However, that feeling did not last for long. I endured my first and longest injury in tenth grade, a slew of back problems and the diagnosis of minor scoliosis. After my six month leave of absence, I returned in a stiff back brace, strangled with more pressure for winning, being recruited for college, and a new coach who criticized my every dribble and shot. I didn’t have that drive and love for the game I used to. I felt forced to go to practices and games. Soon, soccer became something that induced anxiety attacks instead of a passion.
Two agonizing years of feeling worthless from belittlement from my coaches and teammates finally lead to my breaking point. Sitting in my mom’s car in the middle of the local sport complex parking lot on a stale December night, I realized I had lost a long dragging battle with inevitability. Admitting to parents, my coaches, but most importantly myself that I had no desire to play soccer anymore was heartbreaking. I not only felt like a quitter, but a failure. During that time, I was cowardly, unmotivated, and overall a miserable person.
After a long period of contemplation and break from sports, I decided to join my school’s cross country team, thanks to a few brave girls who just me, had quit soccer to run. I started my cross country career scared of the unknown, but excited for what running would have in store for me. The first day of practice was a hot early morning in August and I couldn’t tell whether I was sweating from the heat or from nerves. I was intimidated by the successful runners, the amount of work I would have to do, and the physical stress my body and mind would endure. That first day, the team went on a four mile run. Even in the blistering heat, everyone was cheerful and excited for the upcoming season. I didn’t care that I wasn’t in shape or one of the slowest people on the team. From that day on, I knew that cross country was something I was willing to put my heart and soul into.
My coach always pushed me to be the best version of myself I could be. He found all the positives in every negative situation and believed in my potential even during my worst moments. It sounds crazy, but I even started to enjoy 800m repeats! Practice by practice, I went from being one of the slowest runners on the team to securing a spot on the select team that competed in the Sectional race to advance to States. The day of the Sectionals race was nerve-wracking to say the least. We had a slim chance of winning, but I knew I was willing to give it my all one last time. I finished close to dead last. When I crossed the finish line, I sobbed because even though our team lost, I felt I had achieved the greatest accomplishment of all. I ran not because I was forced to, but because I wanted to and because I loved it.
Cross Country brought the passion in my life that soccer stole from it. Not only did it teach me the importance of hardwork, but comradery as well. Even though cross country is an individual sport, I felt more a part of a team than I ever did during soccer. The eight girls I raced with were not only teammates, but my bestfriends on and off the race course. Cross country added color back into my grey, dull world. I only ran cross country for about three months, but I would never give up the great moments I experienced or the people I met for anything. It is truly something irreplaceable.
Life gets better.
