A fresh breeze blew over a natural park in Mahomet, Illinois and ruffled the grass as I haul the unopened tent towards my destination. There was a lot of chatter, and even more excitement, but no one spoke of the odds of success in the great task ahead. We set up the tent and wait. We were waiting for the moment that we would be called, the moment where we would be asked to attempt the task we have been striving forward to achieve for the last few months. Except for me. I will have to be in just to cheer unless someone became injured to the point where they could not perform. Hopefully next year in eighth grade I would perform. Yet, I feel a strange excitement for the moments ahead as our team started to disperse, getting ready for the moment they would be called to perform. The girls go first, racing ahead of each other like cars on the racetrack. Finally, the boys were called.
As I walked towards the destination, one of my friends called out to me, “Hey Sai, you should probably get your running bib on, just in case.”
I then thank him and go on my way. I add the bib to my cross country jersey and start to walk towards the start once again. I am walking with my friend Sam, who was about to run. We start chatting about the race ahead. It was in that one point in
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“Yeah. I’m fine,” I reply.
I start to get up, but as I place weight on my left leg, pain shot through it. Not only that, but something else seemed slightly off. I attempt to spin my ankle around in a circle. A lot of pain came into view, and it only seems to twitch in some little circle. I look back at Sam and he was concerned, and not only about my injury. He was getting late. He had to choose. Help me and miss the race, or go to the race, but not help me. He started to stress, but then came back to being his calm and cool self.
“You try to get to the tent because I’m about to miss the race. Okay, bye,” He answers as he runs off into the