Despite all the training, when the day of my first track meet finally arrived, I didn’t feel ready. I had been preparing for weeks, but I was still jittery. I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t know what event I was going to run. I didn’t know what times I should run, and I didn’t know how I was going to like competing. Running is not an activity I would call fun. For some, it’s exhilarating, action-packed, and gripping, but most would describe it as painful, stressful, and agonizing.

Walking into the unfamiliar stadium for the meet, I immediately felt intimidated. After warming up for a couple minutes I relaxed a bit. Running has always come naturally to me, and participating in middle school track never made me nervous.

It’s just one race, I told myself. It will be easy.

I watched as my teammates prepared for their events. Our green jerseys were scattered around the stadium. I could see the shot-putters warming up, the jumpers practicing their approach, and the pole-vaulters deciding what poles to use. A sense of anxiety filled the stadium.

As the shot of the first gun rang out, my nervous anticipation was replaced by anxiety. More and more of my teammates began to compete. As they made their way around the track and passed where we were seated, we cheered them on. During this time, any chance of returning to a state of relaxation evaporated.

After watching too many races, I sat down, plugged in my headphones and drowned out the stadium sounds. The stress of school vanished as fears about my first race entered my head. What if I can’t do this? What if my legs give out and I have to stop? What if I come in dead last? What if people laugh at me?

Another hour passed, but my event – the mile – was still not close. Since mine was in the last event, I had at least another hour before I needed to warm up. The mile is one of the longer races at indoor track meets. It’s enough time to get lapped, to come in dead last, to be laughed at. I could imagine nothing but unfortunate circumstances occurring in the five minutes and change it takes me to run a mile.

A half hour passed, and my mind was only filled with thoughts of failure. The dreaded race was approaching. The closer I got to race time, the tighter the knots in my stomach became. I doubled over as the pain became too much for me. I needed to get out of my seat – away from the races, away from the negative thoughts, away from myself. As I walked around, my coach, failing to see the pain on my face, told me I should start to warm up. I walked away coolly, but on the inside I was distraught. I was sure this race would be mortifying.

The list of reasons why I didn’t want to run grew. Perhaps I truly forgot what I loved most about running. I just needed to be reminded. The time before my race decreased until it was the next event. The knots in my stomach became even more painful. The innocent thoughts I’d had when I first arrived were replaced by the all-consuming, toxic fear of failure.

The girls around me were unfamiliar, and stepping out onto the track put my tension at an all-time high. I can’t do this!

“Runners! Take your marks!”

The shot of the gun frightened me into running. As if a switch had been flipped, the negative thoughts in my head disappeared. The thrill of the race reminded me why I run. My competitive spirit wanted to show my talents.

Before I had even finished my first lap, all my worries were gone and the pressure to please was no longer a factor. My feet continued to hit the track. I passed one girl, then another, and another. I was able to turn off all distractions, and my stomach felt fine.

With my second-place medal, I won a huge victory. I had beaten my paralyzing nerves. I had triumphed over my negative thoughts. Most importantly, I learned that running is not always about beating the person in front of you; it is about conquering the person inside of you.