Started from the bottom, now we're here.
To start off I didn't start competitively running until I was a senior in high school. I ran cross country all 4 years and track my senior year, and all my coaches (we got a new one every year) were "let's run for fun" until my senior year when we got a coached who was serious about running to win. His name is Rob Lukowski and he is single-handily the kindest and most motivating coach I have ever been coached by.
Staring the summer going into senior year, I pounded my legs under the summer heat, breezed on the crunchy leaves in the fall, was injured in the winter, and flew by the flowers in the spring until it was our regional meet for track. Our schools 4x800 team was on the brink of qualifying for the state meet. Now granted I was a 2 miler, the 800m was not my event, or so I kept telling myself. Everything I had ever wanted was riding on this meet, I had to fight hard for a spot on this 4x800m, so I felt that I had to prove myself to my coach, family, and teammates.
It was a stormy day, the dark angry clouds swirled around the track, as if they too knew about the race that was about to unfold. The gun goes off, and the first runner is off, my teammate takes the lead and gives us a good amount of distance away from the group. My second teammate receives the baton and still holds the lead but loses some of the distance. Then I received it, I took off, but after 50m I see a flash of red blow by me, then a purple, and a gold right next to me. I internally scolded myself for letting us lose the lead so early into the race. I told myself that I wasn't an 800m runner, I don't have speed, I didn't deserve this spot. I almost let the girl in gold cut in, but then something woke up inside me, a burning fire that I couldn't control, a need to prove my abilities to not only my coach, teammates, and family, but myself too. Reminding myself why I woke up at 5am every morning for practice, why I grinded my muscles in the weight room, why I chose to eat salmon instead of a burger. Giving a reason to why I cared about the little things. My distance training has always pounded into my head to wait for the right time to go, wait for the right time to pass, wait for this and wait for that, but in a 800m race you CAN'T WAIT FOR ANYTHING!
I zoom forward, with newfound speed inside of me, speed that was being held back mentally. Gold falls back behind me while I zone in on purple. I race around the track finishing the first lap. The second lap goes smoothly until the very last 100m, the last straight away until I hand the baton off to the anchor. I push forward, but then I see a rainbow of colors, on both sides of me, the pack has caught up. Everything hits me in slow motion. I can hear my coach screaming, my teammates cheering; I can feel every muscle working, my lungs burning; and I can see myself, eyes wide, filled with fear but also determination. I power through, breaking free from the pack, a single blue jersey leading a rainbow. I pass the baton to the anchor, strongly slapping it into her hand.
I wander over the the grass watching her, while my coach screams that I have pr'd and hugs me. Our anchor keeps 3rd and we qualified for state. As my teammates cheered, my dad walks over, hugs me and says,
"See what you can do when you just believe in yourself?"
I am glad to say that I now run for a NCAA D1 collegiate program and whenever I start to doubt myself, I think back to that race, to that day, the day that changed me as a runner.
- Moriah McCormick ( @MoriahMcCormick )
