I Have Limitations
As I sat in the grass of Burke County's football field that fateful day in May, my brain was cluttered with questions and thoughts. I was busy making mental notes. Stay low, snap your trail leg, and run when you hit the ground, my mind nagged. Instinctively, I put on my running spikes, removed my warm-ups, and stretched my muscles. My concentration was interrupted as the speakers boomed, "Third and final call for all 100-meter low hurdles." In a blur I was on the starting line, staring down a horizon filled with hurdles.
Beat them to the first hurdle with a quick start, and you have a chance to win. CRACK! The startling noise the gun made brought me back to reality. Clearing the first hurdle in perfect form, I ran with all my might. I lunged toward the finish line after I soared over the final hurdle. Looking ahead of me, I saw only one other runner. I had qualified for the regional finals! My coach's smile said everything I wanted to hear.
Walking off the rubber track, my heart was at the same time both light and heavy. I was thrilled by my qualification, but I knew the next day would be horrid. Coach Gaddy firmly said, "You know what you have to do to advance."
Finally, following what seemed like an eternity, Friday arrived. After dwelling on the race, I had butterflies the size of pelicans waiting for the opportunity to take me away. While running a warm-up lap, I realized I had let my tension get the best of me. My leg muscles felt like rocks. All you need to do is focus and put things in place. Just then, coach tapped me on the shoulder. He had been informed that I had the third fastest time in my heat, and I would be running in lane five. "Run the best race of your life, and you have a great chance at going to state," he said. I was relieved to know I only needed to recover one place to advance. My fears slowly and gently began to subside, and my confidence started to build. While I was engrossed in my wind sprints, I heard, "Second call, all 100-meter low hurdles.
While Jesse was in elementary school, Charles Riley, a track field coach, noticed how fast he ran and high he jumped and offered to coach him. He wanted to meet young Jesse so he would be able to mold him into a good high school track and field and even an Olympic athlete. This coach recommended Jesse to do more running than what he was doing in gym class. He also suggested to run 90 minutes a day after school, but Jesse could not run after school because he was busy working in the fields. So, instead of running after school every day, he decided to run before school. During practice, Coach Riley, would critique Jesse’s run for him to improve his form, keeping his knees and head high and his back straight. Jesse was not used to a white-American coach working with him to achieve a goal. Coach Riley would push him and this would empower Jesse to do his best.
Sparrey, Kathleen Raske. “Development of Elite Hurdlers: Assesment of the Individual Athlete From: Identifying and Training Elite Hurdlers in the United States.” October 29, 2003 http://www.coachr.org/shrthrd.htm.
...e bus and off we went. As soon as we arrived we were told that the kick off would be in ten minutes. After a quick warm up we were ready. My hands were shaking, heart pounding but I couldn’t wait to start. When the game started my nerves escaped from my head and I was focused on the match.
“Guys! We made it out!” Sean stated with the utmost excitement. We had placed top 5 and would now advance to the next State meet. This brightened the mood a lot, everyone was so happy when they heard this. This was a true accomplishment. This is the moment that made me proud to be part of the
I had gone to practice, and was proud of my determination. That day, it was bitter cold and the players of all the teams were huddled together, shivering. I remember this day so vividly because it was the first time I placed in a competition. The sky was cloudy and you could sense the humidity. The ground was wet from the night before, everyone despised this setting. The booster club had brought Gatorade, water and protein bars for us and placed them in front of the bleachers. Athletes were already warming up, their faces getting red from the cold. Anxiety starts to set in but it feels good. I started killing time and hung out in the restrooms because it was warm in there. It was time. I started getting ready, put on my spikes, and ran two laps around the track. I stretched and was ready. The announcers broadcasted that the pole vaulters needed to get in place and I quickly met up with my team. I took off my sweats and revealed the skin tight uniform underneath. I was organized to be the fifth person to go. When they were ready for me, I started my routine and was impervious. I set a personal record of five feet, six inches. While that might be a small victory to others, I was on top of the world. My next goal was to beat it and eventually I
“All runners to the start line!” The race AR had called out. I looked at my shoes as I approached the broad white line. My black Lunarglides were laced with white laces, the lydiard style of lacing almost hid them. The other girls beside me walked along, putting their hair up and strapping their watches onto their wrists. All but two regarded me curiously, like a kid learning that Santa Claus isn’t real. As the other girls continued to look at me while they put everything on, I simply spoke, “I don’t put my hair up when I run.” Kaylee Galvan from Munster squeaked “She doesn’t even use a watch.” Her tiny voice trembled. The other girls looked bewildered, but their looks soon vanished as we came about to the line. North Newton’s very own Ivy Allen had looked me up and down and smiled, her eyes glowed at the thought that we could finally run together again.
Conditioning my brain muscles, lifting 2 by 3 inch flashcards, and honing my guessing skills, I am a Decathlete. Ever since the summer of 2013, I made a life changing choice to join a particular group of rejects, outcasts of teenage society, known as the Academic Decathlon Team. Even my friends poked fun at me for deciding to associate myself in a class where students apprehensively awaited to answer academic questions via buzzer (which I now know is a common misconception). However,
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Although this drive to always be better has become an integral part of my character, through my high school career it was not, and I derived my drive to succeed from other’s disbelief. When my track coach told me I was too short to be a triple jumper, overcoming his doubt became the driving force in my life. I toiled endlessly in
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I dip my toes in—feels cold. My nerves rise up and spread like fire throughout my body while I watch—while I wait. Stomach hurts. All those butterflies clash and crowd. They come every time that I race—it never fails. There is so much noise—the splash of water, talking, yelling, whistling, cheering.
Running can be perceived simply as putting one step in front of the other, however, some people fail to see the hard work, dedication, and focus that carries each step. Being a collegiate athlete, has taught me a variety of life lessons including qualities I have applied to my studies, such as leadership, self-discipline and the ability to persevere when failure presents. As an undergraduate student, I maintained the values learned from running to complete my bachelor's degree in three years. Not only did I maintain a high grade-point average, also I was fortunate enough to be named a Marie Curie Scholar at a selective all-women’s college. While hours were spent running, I made time to work a full time job, shadow professionals and participate
The miles increased each week and before I knew it, the last long run before the marathon was only twenty miles. Then came the marathon, 26.2 miles of runners’ high, pain, agony, and unstable weather.