It started in High School. As a teenager, a good student but hesitant to join in with the other kids. I had my group of friends, yes, but I always felt something missing.
That’s when I decided to join the cross country team.
Just like that. I don’t know. It was the sort of idea you have every reason to ignore (and most of the time you do). But this time, for whatever reason, I didn’t ignore it. I told my dad I wanted to join, and he–an athlete himself–beamed with pride. He knew the coach personally.
“I’ll call him up,” he said.
And he did.
And that was it. I was a runner. No turning back.
And so I went to practice–nervously–and ran around the track, my head hung low. I struggled to finish the first few laps and when the coach yelled for us to run the stairs, I nearly fainted for fear of not finishing.
As the other perfect runners completed their perfect times, I jogged like an ungraceful baboon to the finish. As I approached the field, I envied the way the others stretched their long perfect legs. Always, all of them looking perfect perfect perfect.
And that was when I threw up.
Imperfectly, of course. And everywhere. And that is when a boy uttered, “Ahhh, nasty!”, his friends all nodding in agreement. And of course, I couldn’t argue with them.
It was nasty.
And that’s when it happened.
The assistant coach approached me. I was still blushing when he arrived, afraid of what he might say. But he didn’t embarrass me as I feared he would. Instead, he leaned in close so that only I could hear as he whispered into my ear:
“You know, you shouldn’t be embarrassed for trying hard. You pushed yourself today, and that’s something. They won’t respect you less for it–he paused–“As a matter of fact, they’ll respect you more.”
In the following months, I learned what he said was true. I was never fast. But I always worked hard.
And that was enough.
I hope to eventually add more to the story of “How Running Changed My Life.” I am a long way off from being where I was in High School, but I know now not to be embarrassed to try.
6 comments ↓
Great story. I fondly recall my first day at cross country practice. We headed out on the roads and up what seemed like a gigantic hill. That was a tough day but I stuck with it, and it got a little easier (some days) and more fun with time. Those early coaching experiences are so critical. My first coach as very patient, and helped me improve without running me into the ground.
By the way, I’ve added you to my “blogroll”. Keep up the inspiring writing!
I ran in Jr. High. I was always last, but I still remember my parents cheering in the stands long after the timers were finished, and people were milling about the place. My Dad is very proud of me now!
Great story indeed. Thanks for sharing.
You’ve been tagged.
Found your blog via Andrew. Really enjoyed this, the first post I’ve read here. Great stuff.
Thanks for the comments everyone!
Welcome Joe! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
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