As I was standing there, watching the people as they flew by, their feet seemed to float over the dirt and rocks. Their skin glistened with sweat that reflected the suns harsh rays. Their faces shown a sense of anger and hatred for the sport, but they kept going. They kept pushing themselves, harder and harder. I knew what I wanted to do; I wanted to be like them. Their form, the way they let their feet guide them to the finish, invaded my heart, and made it race. Just standing there, my heart was still pounding, I looked foolish. A hefty 180 lb. girl, with her eyes wide open, standing. I was watching the race. The type of race that grabs you and beats you down squeezes the lungs and electrifies the heart. The blood rushes through you, the body burns with the sense of power, of strength. I knew that if I were to choose this path, to be like them, it would be extremely difficult. The type of difficulty that sent you head into a whirlwind. Puts your body under tremendous pressure and crushes your strength of mind. But I knew that if I were to start I would finish, I would be a runner.

I was walking home, thinking how I could pull this off. How would my parents react to my dream? They would believe in me, I was sure of it. That night at the dinner table, I told them. I explained my theory, my plan. It was excellent; the walk home had given me enough time to map out the perfect tactic. They told me how hard it would be, all the struggles I would have to go through. But I already knew them all. I knew that this path would be an upward climb, but I also knew that the view would be great.

That night I was set to run, I wanted to start as soon as possible. I dug out the old training shoes from the back of my closet and strapped them on. I grabbed an old T-Shirt and a pair of black shorts. My mind was focused and I was ready. I borrowed my brother’s watch and ran out the door. I walked to the end of the sidewalk and stood, nearly in shock. I was so ready just a second before. But standing there, seeing the road and its stream of darkness held me. It cradled me in its arms and turned me around. Then I realized what was happening, I was quitting. I would not let this happen. I stopped myself. Then I ran. I felt my heart beat harder and harder, my breath went in and out quicker each step. Then I collapsed. My heart was out of control, my lungs were cut off. My calves ached and burned in agony. I was sweating profusely. I knew that was enough for the day, so I threw in the towel. I walked home; it was a short walk, because I had only gone to the end of the street. It was just a minute or two before I came upon my house. The porch light shined bright in the evening light.

As I walked in, I glanced around. My mother was cleaning in the kitchen and my father was working in his office. My brother was nowhere in sight. They asked me how it went; I told them it was alright, even though I didn’t feel it. I went to take a shower upstairs when I felt in between my legs, a burning sensation. I had chaffed. Only two minutes on the road and I had already caused pain to myself. The mountain was growing right before my eyes; this would be a lot harder than I thought, what was I getting myself into?

I started to look into my high school’s Cross Country team. The team interested me, and since it was summer vacation, it had not started up yet. I thought of this as the perfect chance to get a good grip on how to accomplish my dream. In August I joined the team. The first thing coach had us do was a warm up, just that nearly killed me, but everyone else had no trouble with it. Then he had us do a three-mile time trial. I tried as hard as I could, pushing my body to the limit, giving up then trying again. Forty minutes later I passed the finish line and nearly passed out myself. He wrote down my time, and then made a workout schedule that was fit for me.

As the weeks passed I was able to do more and more. My legs were getting stronger, my abs were getting tighter and the fat was burning away. I was getting there; I was accomplishing what I had been wanting to. My life was falling into line. It was an agonizing path, but I chose it, and I would handle it. A big race was coming up, and I was prepared. I had come a long way from those forty minutes of agony. I was reaching the crest of the mountain and the clouds were clearing.

The day of the race came. It would be 3.1 miles of running over hills and clearings. I was nervous, scared that I wouldn’t do well or be good enough. We loaded the bus, went on our way then got off at our destination. We sat in the tent, our uniforms on, our shoes tied. My race would start at 3:30 pm and I couldn’t wait. There was a rush of excitement but it seemed like a mix of hysteria too. The time was coming, so I started my warm up. I got my heart pumping and my legs stretched. The race was about to begin. I stood with the other girls, all like me. We wanted this, we wanted it badly too.

The man stood on the sidelines, holding the gun that starts us off. It felt like a century before he pulled the trigger. But when it finally did go off, we ran. We flew off the line like women on black Friday trying to grab a shoe, the prettiest shoe, the one we all wanted. I took my time, and paced myself. I felt my heart start to race faster and faster, my lungs filling up with the maximum amount of air then pushing out every last drop. My muscles ached and burned. I held a tight fist with my hands, trying to beat all the pain. Nearing the end I knew I had to kick it up a notch. I had to push as hard as I could and give everything I had. The last stretch was coming, I put my legs into gear, I was flying by people, left and right. I couldn’t feel my body anymore, I felt like I was running on nothing, my fuel tank was empty then I started to run on air. The finish was a step away and as I swung my leg forward my foot hit the plastic tarp, there was a flash, and I fell into a woman’s arms. My legs were gone and I couldn’t feel them anymore.

After I got up my strength to walk on my own, I went to the crowd waiting for the awards to be handed out. I wanted to know what I got. When I found out, I was bouncing with joy. I didn’t win the race, but a 20 out of 399 people isn’t so bad! My time was 26:32:19. I was ecstatic, knowing that I had accomplished what I wanted. Knowing that I was looking out over the horizon and it was beautiful. I was just like them, just like those runners. I felt strong and free, because I never gave up.