The End of an Era

A few nervous smiles before one of the biggest races of the
year in Charlotte, North Carolina. 

Back when I first decided to get into running, I fostered a love-hate relationship with the sport. Don't get me wrong, I have loved running since Day One, but there were certain aspects I found almost unbearable. First off, I was always a nervous wreck before a race. The adrenaline rush of race day that I am now addicted to used to be quite the deterrent. Secondly, having to practice every day was a whole new part of my life that I was not sure I was ready for. Honestly, it was and still is scary
jumping into the deep end of uncharted waters. But in distance running, we learn to endure. Over the years as my friendships became stronger and my outlook on race day changed, I became obsessed with all of it. Most of my friends are runners.  My coaches are like parents to me.  Even the old high school track that has asphalt exposed at the starting line, which I assume is harder on our legs than any road, I have come to call home. I love everything about my team. Each individual snapshot of a memory I have is precious to me, and each serves as a dagger in my heart.

The Patrick Henry 2k by 5 Relay Team after our surprise win
our first meet of the season. It was the start of something truly
great.

Now, as my final season winds down and the end of high school draws nearer by the second, I cannot help but feel sorrow. What can I say about the team that has given me everything? Of the eleven seasons I ran, I was team captain for six, and before that I was a wide eyed kid amazed at the sheer speed of everyone else. Now, ripe with experience, I can't help but realize how quickly everything has gone by. My first season of track seemed the longest--I remember it having hundreds of meets and with each an adventure where I got to know my friends a little bit better.  Now, it is my final season and I feel as if it just started.  I have the great fortune of attending and running for the University of Richmond next fall, so it's not my sport I feel like I'm losing.  It is my high school team.  Side by side, we sweated, worked, and endured physical pain to surpass our limits on a regular basis, to share our triumphs, and mourn our defeats.

A few Patriots celebrating our victory
over Reddish Knob, a mountain near
Harrisonburg, VA

How many miles did I fit into what seemed a time that would last forever?  How many laps have I run without realizing I was nearing my last lap with my team? How many nights did I spend dreaming about glory? Now that my dreams are coming true, why is it so hard for me to accept the change? This is the way things are supposed to be, but why must it hurt?

After the State Championship meet on June 2, my high school running journey will be over and a new chapter in my life will begin. It brings many tears to my eyes because everything has been perfect. There is not a single thing I would change.

My Varsity team following
 Cross Country 4a Regionals

There is a saying attributed to Dr. Suess:  "Don't cry because it's over.  Smile because it happened."  With all respect to Dr. Suess or whoever wrote this, I am so sad that my high school running career is ending.  But I am overjoyed that it happened.  And I am so excited about the things to come.

I can not emphasise how lucky I was to have such a great team.