It’s been less than a year. Actually, it’s been less than six months. But to me, it seems I’ve been sprinting my whole life. Running at the State Meet brings an adrenaline rush. I learned to train for this meet. To focus on this meet. And to dedicate my life to this meet.

Coming from basketball, I dreaded sprinting. Suicides, five and thirties, and six-four-sixes invoked complaints from my team. In most sports, running is a punishment—preparation for the ultimate spectacle. But for those like me, sprinting is the sport.

The journey began last year, seeking a break from the demands of year-round basketball, I decided to try track—just for fun. I felt apprehensive the first day—I didn’t think I’d have time, and didn’t know what to expect.

My first relay. I psyched myself up as I prepared for the one-lap JV race. Clenching the baton in the third leg, my nerves vanished and exhilaration spread through my body as I tore after the closest girl, managing to pass her though she was 50 meters in front. My performance was not enough to win, although worthy enough for my coach to compliment, “you’re the real deal.” At the time, his praise felt satisfactory.
Now it’s not the praise I seek, though it helps. I crave the feeling I get loading the blocks. The anticipation. The adrenaline. The gun. Making it to State in the open 100 meter or 200 meter dash continues to motivate me. And this goal pushes me to train six days a week--even after basketball conditioning. Whether I weightlift, sprint, or maneuver through bleachers, I feel content at the track. And what started as something “just for fun,’’ is still fun, but has become so much more.