Running Response Essay

Before every run, we walk. We get into our teams, line up in neat columns on the one hundred meter start, and stare down the distance between ourselves and the beginning of the race. Every runner is shaking out his limbs and getting the blood flowing, getting the already tense muscles ready to explode at the crack of the starting gun; on this particular morning, everyone is sweating under the sun’s cruel glare. Each of us attempts to amplify that nervous energy that runs through every bulging artery, every electrified synapse, and transform it into pure unbridled power. Lined up in our squads of four, we are like a hoplite of ancient warriors, each one willing to sacrifice himself for his team, ready to go down in a blaze of glory. Each runner

The spectators, like the athletes, are nervous and excited; they sit in the stands to our upper left, examining each of our faces and occasionally calling out for their favorite runners. Coaches watch us from the infield to our left - arms crossed, poker-faced, their quiet assurances during the hundred meter walk belie the ferocity of their entreatments during the race, the way they will hoarsely cajole you to push yourself that much further, move that much faster. Behind them stand the rest of the teams - the ones who, though they will not join us in the race, have crossed thousands of miles with us over the years, and have forged an unbreakable bond in the simple act of running. All of us - the runners, the spectators, the coaches, the teams - stand transfixed in time, hanging between the green turf of the football fields, the black rubber surface of the track, and the blue vault of heaven. For what seems like an eternity, I stand in my line and stare blankly through the shimmering heat rising from the track and the clumps of trees on the

We were at the regional meet, held at the Holt high school track, just south of the state capital - a gathering of all the teams in the largest region in Michigan, each of them vying for the coveted prize of a ticket to the Michigan High School Athletic Association track and field state championships. Rockford, undoubtedly the fastest team in the state, was there, along with powerhouses such as Caledonia and East Lansing. Entrance to the state championships was granted to the top two finishers in each event. There was no such thing as a ‘bronze medal’ at regionals. For many teams and athletes, this would be the end of the road, the final installment of their seasons. We wouldn’t let that happen to