When everywhere and everything else told me no, track told me yes. And it’s not only in my own personal path, but track opened doors and opportunities for my family that I can say wholeheartedly we wouldn’t have without it. My mom wouldn’t have been able to afford college without track. She wouldn’t have had the journey she had or the things she’s gotten without the opportunities that track and field gave to her and my uncle. The lessons it taught her, the memories and stories she tells me and my brother would all be gone if it weren’t for her running career. The places she would get to travel to and the people she would get to meet in her career would be because of that red and white striped circle. A broadened horizon, for her to see the possibilities of her life and future. And later for her to share with me and my brother.
Without track I would never have the confidence or trust in myself that I do. Before 8th grade, I’d always be in sports. The girl who tried hard in gym class, always up to race someone or join the pickup basketball game. Even though I had done soccer since who even knows when, I would start my track career in 7th grade and my varsity career in 8th. Being moved up early was so daunting. I was terrified of the older kids, scared that my peers would leave me behind in practice as the other middle school varsity kids were in running clubs since lower school. And they did. For a while. But not forever.
And I learned quickly that age was not a determiner of success on the track.
And I learned that grades weren’t a determiner of success on the track.
And I learned that popularity wasn’t a determiner of success on the track.
And I learned that how many cars you owned wasn’t a determiner of success on the track.
And all the no’s I had heard, the doors that were closed in my face, the opportunities I couldn’t reach didn’t matter.
Could I find community and consistency in my PWI?
Many places told me no. Track told me yes.
Could I find something to excel in? Something fair where a private tutor couldn’t take me out the running?
Many places told me no. Track told me yes.
Could I be a leader?
Could I be measured simply by my ability to participate and nothing else?
Could I be celebrated for being myself?
Could I be cheered on and supported by my peers?
Could I have and BE a shoulder to cry on?
Could I show up and KNOW I’d be included?
Could I be seen as a mentor? As someone who knows what she’s talking about? Someone people could learn from and not overlook.
So many places told me no. But track would always tell me yes.
Track gave me the communities I’m still apart of, the people I’ve met, the relationships I’ve had, the memories I carry, the college I go to (sort of…), and the VARIOUS lessons I’ve learnt.
It’s taught me to be confident, to advocate for myself and others, to celebrate and uplift others, to take care of myself, to connect with and to trust my body, to not take moments so seriously, to laugh, to look out for the team and to always keep my head up.
It’s taken so much out of me, but it has given me 3 times as much.
There’s this feeling I get on the last curve of a 400… it’s so hard to explain. It’s a hunger, it’s a pain, it’s a fight unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, but it’s a peace. It’s a peace where you are so in tune with your body and everything inside of you. Where the sky and the clouds look down on you as if you are the only thing on earth and you hear something within you say “YOU WILL BE OK. PUSH HARDER” and for a moment you float. The gears in your body shift and you evolve into the you that’s going to END the race. (Of course, right after that moment, EVERYTHING hurts, your lungs start going crazy and you wonder if you really can finish.) But its moments like that that really make the sport what it is.
There’s a peace of mind I get from being able to run, as weird as it sounds to those that hate running. The grin on my face is never as wide as when I’m back to running after a break. It almost beats the feeling of even winning. Just being so grateful that I can move in the way I do and share it with the people I can.
So yeah… why did I write all this… Because I’m tired of crying about my injury. To remind myself why I still say I’m on the team even though I’ve been injured for over a year. To remind myself why I have to be patient in my recovery and why I should believe in the fact that bones can heal and doctors can be smart. And to mourn the fact that without track these past few months have been really hard. I know I joke a lot about my situation, and I will continue to do so because it is kinda funny when you think about it, but I struggle a lot with finding things that help me mentally the way track does. It’s scary not doing something that has been such a big part of my identity. And the news that something really is wrong is scary. Just even thinking about the fact that there are possible lines and chips in my bones really freaks me out for some reason. But, I will be patient with my body. I will love it for every race, for every jump I’ve gotten out of it and then some.
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