The faster you run the faster you’re done. That is what we had to repeat to ourselves as we slowly gather at the starting line in huddles. It was a clear, sunny day outside with a light summer breeze. Some were talking aloud, sharing their goal times, hoping to scare away the competition, some were vigorously warming up with an intense look on their faces in large groups, others were hyping up their friends for the upcoming races, and then there was me. Feeling out of place, I quietly warmed up by myself and try to mentally prepare myself for this difficult, painful adventure that awaited me.         

I was practically shaking with nervousness as I took my mark on this daunting starting line. The world began to freeze, and all went silent as I redirected all of my focus to this race that lay ahead of me. Those few seconds before the race began felt like the longest seconds I have ever lived through. Everything became still. My mind flashed back to all those days spent working extremely hard at practice in the hot sun: 2 hours a day, six days a week. All those days of coming home exhausted from cross country practice would finally pay off, I thought to myself.  Finally, that dreaded gunshot broke the silence as we all suddenly scrambled to escape the tight crowd to reach the front, some already beginning to push and shove. I made sure that I did not make the rookie mistake of starting out too fast because I did not want to tire myself out early in the race. As I breezed past my teammates encouraging me on the sidelines, I realized that the race was not nearly as terrifying as I initially imagined. I was around halfway finished with my second mile when I realized that I could handle going at a significantly faster pace. At the two mile mark, my nervousness completely disappeared, and my aggressive fighter instinct took the wheel. I began to see the exhaustion in the other runner’s faces, and I knew that if I wanted to finish the race well, I would have to take advantage of this opportunity. As the stinging pain consumed me, I continued to repeat to myself several times: Pain is temporary; I can push through this. I run, and I run, and I run, as if I am being chased. Almost gasping for air at this point, I somehow weasel my way up to the front of the group, and before I knew it, I could see the finish line slowly approaching me. At this point, the mounting cheers of my teammates and my burning sensation to finish the race were the only things that kept me moving. To this day, crossing that finish line was one of the greatest feelings that I have ever experienced.  

After I crossed that finish line, I knew that I was not the same passive, timid runner that started that race. Somewhere along that journey, I discovered a genuine passion for running that will last with me throughout the rest of my life. In just the span of twenty minutes, I was able to learn many valuable lessons that I would have never been exposed to in school. Running this race helped me understand the concept that pain is temporary, but benefits are long term. It also taught me about life, in that every goal that I set is achievable and is broken down into one step at a time. On the day that I ran this race, I learned the true meaning of “giving it your all” because I learned how to keep going on with the race even when my body told me there was no more left in the tank.  I learned how to put mentally overcome pain, and that sort of persistent endurance is one of the most valuable lessons I have taken away from running.     

The day I ran my first race was one of the most significant turning points of my entire life. On that day, I learned that there is no activity more fulfilling, exhilarating, or nourishing than running. As I stood there panting in front of that finish line, I thought to myself: Today, I have discovered what it truly means to be a runner.