Meraki // Poetry & Short Stories

We Are Golden

You don't know stress until you're three miles into your seven mile run and the group you managed to land yourself with starts to pick up the pace.

You don't know physical pain until your calves are flaming up and the stitch in your side feels like a dagger ripping through your intestines and the aching in your right shoulder kicks in with half the run to go.

You don't know sleepiness or dread until you wake up at four thirty in the morning to force yourself onto a bus you know for a fact is taking you right to a meet.

You don't know anxiety until you hear the words, "sweats off, ladies," and the sudden silence that dawns over the competition as you step up to the line.

You don't know disappointment until you find yourself just seconds from beating your best time, until those few seconds cost you a Varsity spot, a trip downstate, a chance to be in the "it" group and finally be apart of something you've been dreaming about ever since you started this goddamn sport.

You don't know any of these things until you run a season of crosscountry, or the extra long track season that never seems to end.

You also don't know what it means to create a true bond with someone until you've both struggled through the same extra hilly course, until one holds up the other so she or he doesn't collapse, until you both find yourselves muttering, "I want to die," at the exact same moment after coach announces the workout.

You don't know teamwork until everything seems pointless, until you feel like collapsing into a sweaty heap on the grass beneath the flagged fence would be the best option, and one of your teammates comes running up behind you, barely being able to utter out a, "c'mon girl, stay strong," as she speeds past and takes you with her.

You don't know self gratitude until you're worn out at the end of a long workout with hardly any motivation left to spare, but as soon as that whistle blows you take off and the world seems to blur around you as the only things you can focus on are the pounding of your powerful steps into the ground below and the heaving of your burning lungs and the overwhelming need to keep pushing, keep pushing, keep pushing drowns out any doubt until you hit the end.

You don't know victory until you cross that finish line with every last ounce of yourself springing from your heels and your mind as blank as a canvas only to find out that you beat your personal record, that all your training paid off as you can walk away smiling through homemade-purple-Gatorade-tinted teeth.

People ask me all the time why I run if I complain so often and hate it so much...but the truth is, I don't think I could love the sport if I didn't hate it first. The hating and the loving are a package deal called high school crosscountry/track and I'd be damned if I didn't say it saved my life.