I hate it, or I love it.
I hate when I get beaten.
A straightaway I didn't own.
A ski-hill that was too steep.

My kick wasn't strong enough,
Or maybe I didn't eat at the right time.
Maybe I tied my shoes too tight,
That mountain; it hurt to climb.

I'm so sick of courses,
Around fields and lakes.
Traveling to different schools,
Gives me sores and aches.

So much anxiety and so much stress.
How can something I like give me so much pain?
The sport that constantly steals my attention,
But gives me daily strain.

The urge to beat my cousin,
Maybe that girl on the other team.
If it happens, it happens.
But I want my finish to be clean.

Maybe I'm not strong enough.
Or I peaked too soon.
Sometimes I get so upset,
I sit and stare at the wall in my room.

I always blame a bad race on something odd that happened that day.
I really am so tired of Cross COuntry.
I never get my way.

A younger girl belongs behind me,
She's supposed to see my back.
I can't wait until the season's over.
I just wanna run the track!