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My heart raced as my feet pounded against the wet grass with the confidence of a bold eagle. Every breath I inhaled sent a sharp pain in my chest and a stabbing pain raced up my injured leg with every stride, but I kept running. The girl in front of me was clearly having a hard time too, for her once speedy jog had became a slow staggering motion towards the finish line. The finish line; it seemed an endless journey away, but I would get there. I'm not a quitter; I know this! I am a champion for starting and I will race to that finish line.
Unknowingly, my head spun around to acknowledge the person behind me, only to stare at an empty field. I scanned the track, and suddenly it hit me like a basketball to the chest; I was the last one. Suddenly my breaths were shorter and sharper, my injured leg felt a lot more painful and my determination seemed a lot fainter. I jogged while crowds at the sidelines cheered, some not saying much at all. "Why don't you go eat hotdogs instead, you'd be better at it." remarked one high school boy while his partners laughed. This was it. This was the breaking point. Not only was I bad, but I was the worst cross country runner in a pool of 150. The edges of my eyes became hazy as tears stung, threatening to pour out. Other rude comments were floating in my head. I wanted to dash in the forest by the field and just run away from the chaos, from the people, and their unforgivable disappointment. The finish line; it was an impossible journey away, and I can't do it. I don't care if there's only 2k left, the people have spoken, and I can't do it.
My jog broke into a speedy walk, as disappointed eyes beat like a laser on me. "Father, Father take me away, take me now. To You I pray" I begged in my head. It was such a mistake running this race, joining this club and being dim enough to believe I could do it with less than three weeks training. An on and off jog was how I managed to reach the finish line, the one that other runners so easily passed minutes ago. I heard my coach call my name. I didn't want to see her, I didn't want to disappoint her, and I definitely didn't want her to see the tears brushing my face.
She caught up to me though, and she knew; she understood very, very well. I felt her hand on my shoulder, but I turned away, and so did she. We played a little game of Merry Go Round before we were face to face. This is when the pep talk takes place. This is when I feel even worse because she was so, so kind, and I'm not good enough for that. Why is she able to forgive me when I can't even forgive myself? How can she be so supportive of me when I just disgraced the team, even the school? We never come in last, our team is good, our team is the best.
I can't stand to face her, or anyone at my school. I'm so disappointed, and it's times like these when my pessimist side overworks itself; noticing the bad and turning a blind eye to the good. It's times like these when I generally begin to engage in bad unhealthy habits. It's times like these that all the work my prayers and hope have done seem to go to waste. I'll hold on as best as I can; I'll try to be safe. Dear Lord, help me hold on to myself and not repeat past mistakes. I can't do this on my own; definitely not right now. On this blessed Thanksgiving, I realize how much you've guided me before, and flawless as ever, I ask for Your guidance to continue accompanying me on my journey. I ask that you give me faith, and allow me to realize the beauty of my life, while turning a blind eye to the person I was in the past. I don't want to remember . . . Please, don't let me remember.
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