Just because you weren't told you did a good job, doesn't mean you didn't.

Before track season of freshman year, I never really would have said I enjoyed running. In sixth grade, my sister suggested that I join track because the coach happened to be her favorite teacher, who I thought was pretty cool too. I became really interested in hurdling, but I wasn't really very good. Flashforward to the beginning of eighth grade: my three best friends were looking for more people to join the cross country team; they only had five girls. I agreed to it, simply because my friends had started excluding me since I wasn't in that part of their life. I made the travel squad, but I really was not good at all. 

Freshman year of cross country: My best friend trained the entire summer and was by far the best runner on our team. At meets I ranged from our second to fourth girl on the squad. Running was not really my thing, but I enjoyed competing and being with my friends. 

Freshman year of track: The first few weeks of practice go as expected, I'm still into hurdling and do decently at meets in the hurdle events. I had mentioned to my coach that I would not mind competing in the mile at some meets, and I would usually come in third or so. Then, tragedy struck. My best friend, dominant in the distance events, started to complain of shin splints. She had stress fractures in both of her tibias. It was my turn to step up to the plate. I worked hard for the rest of the season, doing mostly distance training, but I really did not have good coaching. I made up most of my own training plan.

Summer after Freshman year: I decided that I was tired of mediocrity, so I wanted to run 4-5 miles every single day. This seems so basic compared to my training now, though. The summer went pretty well. Running became my only release from the drama that was going on in my life. My best friend had turned against me, I honestly feel that she was mad I "took her place" or something. I was excluded from pretty much everything my friend group did, and I got pretty depressed. Running was really the only thing that got me to leave the house.

Sophomore year of cross country: Conditioning began in early July, and I was already in decent shape compared to my teammates. My friends on the team wouldn't talk to me. My best friend was the coach's favorite, so my accomplishments were rarely celebrated. At this point, it honestly felt like no one cared about me at all. Sure, I wasn't the naturally fast, lanky, stick-thin girl that most fast runners are, but I put in the work. Didn't I deserve something? I had gone from not even making top 20 at conference freshman year, to being fifth. That is improvement that most runners don't make. But did I get any support from my teammates or coaches? No. They were all super worried about my best friend's legs and how she was feeling. Somehow, I wondered, if that was me with the injuries, no one would care. I would have just been cast out. No one thought I would ever be anything. 

During the postseason of cross country, I became really stressed out. My time at sectional was about a minute and a half slower than what I usually ran. Regional was even slower. The stress of competing consumed me, but I had no one to talk to. No one cared.

Now as I am beginning my sophomore of track, I have figured out a lot of things. I know now that life isn't about who you are right now, it is about who you want to be, and who you will be tomorrow. I know that I should not let lack of support change what I can accomplish. Just because you aren't told you did a good job, doesn't mean you didn't.

- Anonymous