The thought of being a runner had never once crossed my mind, and so I still find it surprising that I ended up on a cross country team. I kind of wanted to play tennis, or maybe basketball, but, running?...
I have to wonder how my life would have changed, if I had joined the tennis team instead of the cross country team. In many ways I think I would have enjoyed tennis much more than running. Even now, if you were to ask me if I'd rather run a 5K or hang out on a tennis court, despite not really knowing how to serve, hit the ball, or even hold the racket, I'd rather play tennis. Yes, in some ways I believe I made the wrong choice. But when I think back on all my memories as a runner, everything I took from the sport, and how it changed my life, maybe running was the best possible sport I could have chosen.
It all began during my sophomore year after a timed mile in P.E. I was one of the first done and I felt pretty good about it. And so it happened that the P.E. teacher told the coach of the cross country team that I might be someone who would be interested in running. And when the coach asked me about joining the team, I figured, "Sure, why not?" I didn't know then that I wasn't born to be a runner.
I found out though. Really quickly.
It was that few people really put any effort into the mile in P.E. class. I always believed in pushing myself, so I had tried my hardest, and because of it, I did so "well". It wasn't that I was actually talented at running or anything.
The first day of practice was something easy, like a 20 minute free run. Something "easy". We split up into our groups, I went with some slower JV runners and some other new people, and then we went off on our way. I did my best to keep up. I really did. But I was in so much pain that I had to stop running, and the group I was with left me behind as they continued on with their slow jog pace.
I wanted to quit right then and there. I didn't want to be a runner. Definitely not. There was no question. But I had already joined the team, so my mom said I ought to just stick it out. Do one season and then do another sport next year. Maybe tennis, I thought. But I figured, yeah, I shouldn't quit yet, considering I'm already part of the team. And it's only the first day.
Things got... better? Or I accustomed myself to pain and humiliation, perhaps. I was competing for the title of slowest runner on the team, and I wasn't doing too bad a job of it. On our timed miles the whole team would be around the finish cheering me on, because everyone encouraged the slower runners, especially the ones that tried hard. But it kind of hurt to know that everyone was there to cheer you on because everyone had finished a while before you. I think most people finished their first 5K (3.1 mile race) in under 30 minutes at least, and many did much better. My first 5K time was in the 34 minutes or so, and not for a lack of effort.
I would improve quite a bit. I mean, it would have been nearly impossible for me to do worse. Eventually I finished a 5K without stopping to walk and it felt like an accomplishment. I improved so consistently that I was setting PR's (personal records) every race, and by the end of the season, I had finished a 5K in under 27 minutes. It was still worse than where many people started out, but I was proud to know I had come a long way. I had come so far that I got recognized for it. I had set a team record for the most PRs in a season and I was given the most improved runner award. Story of my life?, I wondered. Getting awards in everything, even the things I was bad at.
The next year came, and I was essentially bound to continue on with cross country. But that didn't change the fact that I still saw running as a painful sport. I mean, I still feel that way now.
No comments:
Post a Comment