Personal Narrative: The Sport Of Running

I was born to run. I adore the feeling of aching legs, winded breath, and the absolute joy of knowing I have accomplished something so utterly momentous: winning a race. When I run, I feel strong and vivacious both on the inside and on the outside. Last year, I decided to join the high school cross-country team. I was extremely excited and could not wait for practice to begin, but I was also somewhat nervous. What if I was not talented enough? What if my skills were not competent enough? What if the coaches thought I was just… mediocre? I was so nervous, I began to doubt and feel dubious about my running potentiality.

In physical education we were put to do the mile I was always second to last if not last I wasnt made fun of but I didnt really good about myself. As the years went on I was still fat couldn’t do anything until sophomore year of high school is where it all changed. I remember it quite clearly as if it was yesterday I was sitting in my math class when one of classmates had large number pinned to his bag and a uniform on that hadn’t seen before. That's when I got curious and asked what sport was all this for he then explained it was for cross country and that I should join it would be fun. It turns out that the season was about to end so it was to late to join so I had to wait for next year so I did. I went my junior in the summer since that's when they practiced and ran for the first time. After this first run I thought I was going to literally die and didn't want to this any more and to top it off all the guy runners who I thought that were slow beat one by one. This is where I decided I wasn't going to be last or lose a race to anyone. I practiced the whole year and did track top it off. Now the summer of my senior year was very motivational since I got up early ran and did this everyday till school started to be the best of my high school. Well the season would begin and I was breaking my school records and receiving medals from invitationals and

Ever since I can remember, I have been playing sports. I played a sport each season and excelled in each sport I played, most likely due to a high level of coordination at a young age. Playing hockey and squash in the winter before middle school, soccer and football in the fall, and the best season of all due to the range of such high level sports, spring, in which I played baseball, lacrosse, and tennis. I knew that I had the most skill in baseball, tennis, and hockey. One day, the day of a little league baseball game, I was sick and been throwing up the night before, my coach told me I did not have to play. The decision was in

As a track runner, it is a necessity to be relaxed yet focused and determined. When I participate in track meets or even at practices, I receive a comforting warmth just by stepping onto the track. I feel as though burdens and worries temporarily lift from my shoulders. One may wonder how this can make someone content with their surroundings instead of nervous and uneasy based upon their environment and luckily for me this is an uncomplicated notion to explain. Unlike particular people, the track calms me and gives me a place to clear my head. I work relentlessly to achieve my goals, nevertheless it also gives me the clearance and space I need to effectively work my hardest whether it be a physical goal I am working to achieve

I approached that year’s conditioning with a pessimistic attitude and wondered why was I doing this when I’m not going to run in meets. Just like the year before, I assumed that conditioning and practicing would be obsolete. I braced myself for another disappointing year. Every winter day after school, I braced myself against the cold with a hope that this season would be different. I went into the first day of practice feeling in shape and optimistic. But just like freshman year, there was no preparing for the ache and suffering of the first practice. With the season approaching, our coach timed us to determine who would run in meets. Our coach divided us into groups based on how fast she thought we were. When a senior saw that I was in the first, slower group, he said that I belonged in the faster group with them. Hearing that compliment from a senior changed my outlook on the season might go. As the first track meet approached, we split off into groups so we could perfect our technique based on the event we were running. As I was jogging around the track wondering whether this year was going to be the same as last year, our coach summoned me over to perfect baton handoffs for the 4x100 meter relay. As the realization hit me that I was going to compete, I thought, “I’m not going to relinquish this spot because I labored profusely to attain

We quickly received a summer training schedule and I started training. I soon came to the realization that this sport was just what I needed. Cross-country was the key that unlocked my jail cell, and I started dropping times – fast. As my freshman season came to a close, I ran a personal record (PR) of 19:49, somewhat rare among brand new runners. At around the same time, my dad received orders to move back to Pace, Florida, where I had spent part of my elementary school days. I joined my new team but unfortunately could not perform well. I didn’t run very much after my freshman season, so I basically had to start from scratch with a 25:05 time trial. As a result of hard work, I PR’d in my last race with a 19:36, but that wasn’t the highlight of the season. I had people helping me through this struggle the whole

As the sun’s nutritious rays fuel my body; sweat races down my back and accumulates into the threads of my cotton t-shirt. I peer over my neighborhood park fence and gaze over the spacious scenery. The track field was well in shape, free of small debris and ready for a test run and light jump activities in the sand-pit. Soon enough the high temperature fills my head, leaving me in a state of allusion. Images of my friends and I sporadically unfold in front of me and unto the track; as if being placed in a desert mirage. I feel a sense of peace and eagerness surge through my body, while the images continue to appear. Then, a whisper comes into the mix saying some sort of gibberish. Stepping a bit more cautiously then I regularly would I walked

During the fall of senior year, I joined the cross country team to help prepare and condition me for the track season, in the spring. Skeptical at first, I knew that I didn't have any endurance since I only sprint over hurdles during the track season, but little did I know that the weeks were passing and the end of the cross country season arrived. Though I was one of the inexperienced long distance runners, I knew that I ran the fastest I could because when I crossed the finish line I had an overwhelming nauseous feeling. As someone who runs a short distance, I was proud of myself for making it to the end of the season without quitting, especially since cross country is running for a long distance, which other sports make their athletes do

When I was only eight years old my mom and dad made me join a track team called Lighting Links. I was furious because I hated running, I was scared I wouldn't make any friends, and I really really hated running. For me, running was like throwing away your favorite candy for no reason. I would just use up all of my energy and get no benefits from it, well at least that is what I thought.

“Sprinters don’t even do anything,” is what the distance runners say. “You guys hardly even run,” they go on. As a sprinter, I hear this a lot. Every year we get grief from them about how they think we don’t do anything and it’s very agitating. Track and field is supposed to be a team sport, although people do run in their separate events. Having the long distance runners always talk gossip and tell us we never do anything is just adding unnecessary drama. I hope some day they can learn to stop making perceptions of us.

Blue flashes of light left you temporarily blind as you ran from her. Her spears fired at you with the intent to kill. Your health is low, only 4 hp left. Then you felt it, A piercing pain in your thigh. You collapsed to the ground as the now bleeding wound rendered you unable to walk. You tried crawling but it was of no use, you could feel yourself bleeding out, and the sound of boot steps was getting closer. You gave up, knowing the end was near and there was hardly anything you could do about it. You felt the tip of Undyne's boot wedge it's self under you as she flipped you over.

My first meet was horrid. They had no record of any of my times since I have never been in track before and I was put in the fastest heat of the 200 meter dash.I got last. I was so frustrated with myself that I began crying. But, through each meet I became a little bit better, with the support of my coach and teammates. My final meet was hard. I was in the third heat of the 200 meter dash, I did horribly on my long jump and my ankle was acting up since I jumped on it wrong. I didn’t get first of either of those things but I tried my best and that was all that mattered. At the last meet I saw all of my hard work that brought me to that

I thought for the longest time that i was being brave for always running. i thought that to stand still was nothing shy of complacency, as not moving forward, as an overconfidence resulting from knowing exactly what was underneath my feet. truth is- i was being a coward. while yes, i was moving, it was simply to block out the noise. i continued to sprint so that i didn't have to listen. i didn't even notice that all the while i was going in the wrong direction. further and further and further away. but you can't run forever. it was when i was too tired that i stopped- exhausted, lost, and in complete darkness. however, it's when i was forced to be still that i finally had the time to reach out and find the light switch. then was when i discovered

When I was in the 5th and 6th grade, I joined my elementary track team. I really enjoyed running track. I participated in many events such as the 100m, the 200m, the 400m, the 4x400 relay and long jump. When I moved down to Arkansas, the middle school didn’t have a track team so I was not able to join any team to train. I couldn’t do 7th grade track due to there not being a team and I missed the tryouts for the 8th grade track and Cross Country so I missed that year too. The next year my friend told me I should join the Jr. High Cross Country team. I was a bit skeptical about this because I didn’t have an idea what to expect from Cross Country. We got a new coach who was the top runner in the state for Cross Country. He followed last year’s summer Cross Country practice. I received the schedule and showed up for the first practice. I thought that the first practice would be simple. I stayed up with everyone as we ran for the first few meters, but I soon felt a sharp pain on the side of my chest. I stopped running and began to walk.

It was February 28 , 2015. I was already on my way to Idaho championships before I knew it our team was there. At first I was incredibly terrified because of how many swimmers were there. After warm-ups with my teammates the races began, I swan my 100-meter butterfly, 100-meter freestyle, and my sprint 50-meter freestyle was close by. Usually I’m not nervous while doing this particular race but today is different. I will be racing 16 year olds while I’m only 14. Ten minutes before the race I explained to my coach that I was not feeling well but my coach looked at me and said “Maddy you are very much capable of getting first place, if you believe in yourself anything is possible.”