Fresh autumn air is like
a high to a runner, a new spirit that grows inside of them. It is the start of
a two-month journey into the heart of a person. As the leaves change from green
to yellow to red, and the warm air becomes a crisp cold. August, September,
October, and November are soothing words. Autumn has a strange effect on a
cross country runner’s life. Not only is there a smell of new hope, but of new
shoes, sweaty shirts, and wet grass. The sounds of heavy breathing, struggle,
determination, gun shots, footsteps, and triumph fill the air around the
runner. Every autumn morning is a new day for a runner to become amazing.
Getting up at six in the morning for long runs, to mid-day workouts in the
shining sun, or blistering rain, is what a true runner looks forward to.
Running is life, only way to breathe.
When a racer is standing at the starting line, every thought comes rushing in.
Seconds before the gun is shot, everything feels like it is in slow motion, and
you remember all those days. Days that it felt like it should have been
snowing, but it was just blistering rain. Or the days you felt the sun was
beating down so bad, one could just melt away. You look side to side and see
determination engrained into your competitor’s eyes, but a racer will use other
runners to motivate them. You can hear your breath, and everyone else’s around
you, all of which are breaths of nervousness and readiness. There is a hint of
fear running through your nerves, and you want to just hide, but shorts and a
tank is all you have. A runner can imagine those twists, turns, and hills of
the course, a course that you have run many of times before.
A runner can smell
over powering stench of hunger to win all around them, but they know their
appetite is more intense. In one instant right before the gun goes off, you
think about your hard work all season long and mumble “Let’s do this.” Without
a second to blink “BAM,” the gun is blasted, and the last quick breath of
adrenaline is taken in, and then all the runners fall forward as if they were
dead, until the first leap of the race is taken. There is no turning back now,
their journey into the race begins, and everything else around then seizes to
exist.
Throughout the expedition of the woods and atrocious terrain, a runner finds
the strength to keep going. Step by step, mile by mile, the will to keep going
faster outweighs the eagerness to slow down. There is a time in the race when a
runner is at their lowest point, and on the brink of giving up, then they smell
that autumn air, they remember that every other runner around them wants to
give up to, and every bit of motivation enters their blood, bones, and muscles,
and the runner surges. From there on out the runner seems inhuman and
unstoppable, not any stumble, rock, twig, or untied shoe lace can stop their
momentum. Picking out targets with every stride, and never stopping until that
goal is reached. The runner’s footsteps almost become their heartbeat; because
that is the only thing they can hear. Every breath of the crisp air moves a
runner forward.
The last straight away is when the runner is truthfully awakened again to the
world around them. They hear loud screaming from by standers, and coaches, and
once the cowbell starts ringing a runner knows it is time to go. Even with all
of the noise of screaming crowds, there is an utter silence in which only the
stride of your legs and the stomp of you feet can be heard. With only 100
meters left, a runner digs deep down into their soul to find that ounce to
energy that allows them to sprint to the finish. There is only one speed a
runner knows at this point, fast. Once a runner finishes, it is like a breath
of relief, but it is called runners high, a new drug. A racer knows they have
done everything possible to do the best that they can.
Once that meet is over, a new week has begun, and a new voyage through the
unknown started. A runner will never settle on what they have done, but push to
achieve greater feats. They have no limits, and will do everything they can to
reach the next level.
