I
remember my first and last race of the cross country season of 2008 and how I felt.
Waiting for the soccer season to start at Pacifica High School I joined a
running team to stay in shape and active, but a boy named Charlie changed my
initial motives. Charlie a short, lean, curly haired and light skin kid with a
cocky attitude who I had met in middle school but never really talked till we
saw each other in freshman year cross country. Charlie was a mixture of many
races including Mexican. At first I thought he was German, but he explained
that he was Gypsy, Romanian, Mexican and two other races I could not pronounce
or remember. Charlie and I became friends and rivals very quickly because of
our desire to be the best and our competitive blood did not let us want nothing
less than to be the best from are age group in Pacifica; moreover, He and I
were both 15 years old and eager to be at the top.
Arriving at our first race location,
Charlie and I were excited to get off that cramped up bus that was always
referred as the Twinkie bus for its small and long round body with its traditional
yellow and white. One fourth of the team had one butt cheek on a seat on the
way to the race. The whole team was dropped off by this small motel six looking
hotel, at first I looked around in confusion because I did not see any possible
course that we could run in. It turns out that the team had to walk to the race
location Seaside Park because the school was too cheap to pay for the parking
ticket in the park; after arriving I gazed in every direction to see hundreds
to thousands of runners. Charlie started to mock some of the runners from the
other schools on their physical appearance, but I ignored him because he was
just trying to make himself feel better.
Before I could sit and rest Coach Daw
told all the freshman boys that we had to start warming up and head towards the
starting line which we did not have any clue where that starting line was until
we followed some runners of the same age group. Tons of emotions started to
come to me such as butterflies in my stomach mixed up with fear of being last
place. In that moment I started to gag with every breath I took. It felt like I
ate something nasty from Fear Factor; however, I managed to get myself
together. At that moment I could only remember thinking of starting and ending
the race but not looking like a chump.
Before we began the race an older
man with a coach appearance appeared, you know the ones with a cap and jacket
with a professional team’s logo that always seem cranky for some reason. The
old man explained the rules and raised a gun up, but before he shot I closed my
eyes and listened to my surroundings; the ocean was nearby with its roaring
waves that somehow relaxed me even though I was surrounded by screaming
lunatics. A loud gunshot brought me back from my relaxed mode of mind to a
competitive one.
The race started, all the runners
jolted as a group; however, a couple of runners started to separate from the
group. The whole thing looked like the Bull Run from Spain because the group
that I was in tried to catch up to the top runners which looked like we were
chasing them. The three mile race for me lasted twenty minutes and three
seconds, but those minutes felt like eternity and where terrible because I had
a huge cramp on my side that didn’t let me breathe well. After the race it felt
good not being last and being able to finish the race; moreover, I realized
some runners were walking around with medals including my friend Charlie.
Charlie flaunted the medal like he won it like nothing. After that display I
started to practice every day forgetting that I only joined the cross country
team to stay in shape for soccer. A goal was set in my mind to become the alpha
runner in the freshman team and most of all to win a medal because I was never
awarded anything in a sport. The chance of being able to win a medal was in
my
head in every race.
Months pass and the only thing I
managed to accomplish was becoming the top runner which felt nice because now
Charlie was the second top runner, but winning a medal still eluded me. The
last race of the season came up fast and chances of winning a medal where slim,
but either way I did not lose hope of earning that medal. That last race of the
season was one of the most memorable events of my life.
On that last race day I walked out
of the bus in Lake Casitas where nature surrounded you with bushes, trees, and running
trails with a beautiful view of the lake. The place gave a warm feeling and was
relaxing to the eyes and mind. The difference between my first and last race at
that moment was that I had more races ran and the experience was high; however,
I was still determined to win that medal even if I had no energy in my body and
had to reach the finish line crawling like a snail. Waiting at the start of the
race I walked around then headed back to the starting line to my place between
the other schools; the place was as loud as a football stadium but to me it was
like a tennis court stadium soundless. The only noise I could hear was my
breathing because I was so focused on starting the race. The gunshot went off
and the race had begun with some runners being elbowed or tripped, and some
elbows landed hits on my ribs but the adrenaline made me feel nothing. Half way
through the race as most runners slowed down I began to speed up as I reached
the top runners who were not willing to give up their place without making me
work for it.
As the race progressed my legs
started to become heavy with every step I took, and I could not do anything
about it but to force them to move. It felt that I was carrying twenty pound weights
and kept adding more weight as I moved forward. While running I began to hear
footsteps coming closer and closer and I had no gas in the tank to speed up.
The runner behind me started to shout, “Omar is that all you got!” Those simple
words would help me identify the runner right away. Under my breath all I could
say to myself is “don’t let this cocky son of a gun beat you”.
Charlie caught up to me and we
started to trash talk to each other to try to somehow give us energy. Charlie
and I were out of breath and feeling dehydrated, but he still kept saying “I
can’t believe I lost to you man” with a smirk on his face. Out of breath I
responded “you should feel honored to even be next to me your usually way
behind” and somehow I always get the response of I was just letting you. A
sharp meter came up and we both saw the finish line about 200 meters away. All
of a sudden after I saw the finish line I overheard a coach shout through all
the ruckus of the crowd to his runner that he is going to win a medal if he
passed three more runners. I don’t know what possessed me because I started to
sprint like hell. Those last meters I turned into a speed demon running from a
priest trying to send it back.
to get some reactions from the runners I passed. One of the runners faintly whispered under his breath “oh shit”; moreover, at the speed I was going at the end I was going in and out of conscious. My feet did not stop till they crossed the finish line which never felt as good as that day even though I puked. A girl with a nice innocent smile handed me a round silver medal that had Ventura County Championships on it with three runners placed at the center. Never in my life had I won a medal in a sport, so to me that was a new feeling and I just starred at the medal for a while because I couldn’t believe I actually won it. Charlie finished right after me with a smirk on his face told me “ya cásate” because I was holding the medal like I was proposing to someone. Right away I got up and just trashed talked to each other for a while, and then we congratulated each other and laughed like we had just heard the best joke of our lives. People starred at us but we didn’t care one bit.
Starting to walk back to where my
team settled down, but as I walked back I walked tall with that shiny silver medal
around my neck; as a result, people and runners I passed by congratulated me
like I was a war hero coming from Iraq or something. My teammates started
cheering and I joined in to scream like lunatic as well. I was curious about
the time I had earned, so I headed towards the data bored and I saw that I had
improved my three mile time. My new best personal record was 17 minutes with 28
seconds which ended up beating two of the varsity runners’ time. Coach Daw came
over to where I was to congratulate me and told me if I could join the varsity
team to go run at Mt. Sac where only the top schools went to run; moreover, I
went out to celebrate with Charlie and the team to Topper’s pizza.
In the end, the work I put into the
sport paid off with a big reward that was good health, speed, endurance, and of
course the medal I wanted to win so bad. I learned hard work pays off not right
away but when you least expect it; as a result, I started to set goals knowing
that I could accomplish them just needed to work hard. I learned also that
competition brings the best in me and others.
