Personal Narrative: My Love For Running
Miranda Roberson Critical Thinking Essay 2 Always Running Essay The novel Always Running by Luis J. Rodriguez is about the author and his experiences in the East L.A. gang life. In doing so, Rodriguez brings forth many deep issues. With the gang life often comes the reality of the police and drug abuse. Rodriguez shows the cop and gangster relationship multiple times.
“Ivan staggered a few yard, then stopped at the stone wall that surrounded his house, and bent over. A swell of nausea rose from his gut. His diaphragm jerked tight, and he vomited. Good Run. Damn Good Run.”
I have logged countless hours on the motocross track competing to finish first. All of my hard work eventually paid off when I won the main event at the last race of the season. This competitiveness has been both a challenge and a gift. It drives me to be the best that I possibly can in school, sports or just day to day life. I cannot settle for anything but perfection.
I ran in my middle school’s track team for two years. I ran the mile, one hundred meter dash and triple jump. Out of all the events I participated in I absolutely despised the mile, I hated the aftermath the most. The feeling of my lungs burning, legs aching from the long run and the heavy asthmatic breathes. Although the mile had several cons, I loved the challenge and I was too stubborn to quit.
In life, even though we are told not to do so, a lot of us “count our chickens before they hatch”. We make assumptions on things before they happen because we believe that if something seems so likely, it will happen. Well, that is what my Liberty High School cross country team did my sophomore year. Going into the year, we not only knew we were going to be strong, we thought other teams were going to be weak. The top teams from the state finals the previous year had all lost most of their key pieces.
During my final year of Cross Country around Regionals at Oglethorpe, I ran my final race for my high school career. Banks County was nearly number one in the State, the furthest we had ever ranked in history, and spirit and hopes for State Championship were high. I was nervous, like nobody’s business, I had messed up during my senior night because I was upset for my parents for not showing up and escorting me. And I was scared that I was going to do horribly. But as I ran, I realized that if I let my past mistakes and failures hold me back or get in my way, so I ran, harder and better than I ever had before and apparently even beat a “skinny kid”.
With my relay team stretched,warmed up, and ready to go, we headed towards the stadium where we would race against the fastest girls in the nation. Intimidated but not deterred we headed out of Tent City and into the gates of Turner Stadium. Knowing this was my last race I would run with my close friends and relay team, being it 's the last race of the season and we all weren’t going to be in the same age group next year, I had a whole new mind set. I was constantly thinking, “we have to make top ten because we can make top ten.” “We have the times, we have the strength, we have the speed, we just need to have the guts to walk in there like we are going to shred the track into pieces.
So he ran by himself and I ran at practice, but on the weekends we would still do our long runs. I often dreaded our longer runs, so my mom always gave me something to look forward to such as; going out to eat or making cookies later that day. The half marathon was coming up soon, and we were as ready as ever. The day before the half marathon I had a cross country meet, and it was tiger bowl. I really wanted to go to the football game, but I had to go to bed really early and wake up early for the run.
Of course, as you'd expect I got fourth place in that race. Bummed from the results I learned to keep my head high and keep working I mean I was just a freshman. In the end track taught me that there's always someone better, or faster you just gotta work harder than them. My final sport that I have a passion for is rugby.
My passion for track and field began with a Nike advertisement. At age ten, I opened the newspaper to a two-page spread of the hometown distance running legend Steve Prefontaine overlaid by a paragraph of inspirational copy. It concluded asking, “Where is the Next Pre?” The story of his small town Oregon roots, gutsy racing style, and ambition to be the best resonated with me like nothing ever had before. I told myself I was the next Pre, and then tore off for my first run through the streets of Eugene, Oregon – “Tracktown USA”.
In those two and a half years I started racing. My first time I ever raced I got first place and it was the best feeling ever. I was so proud of what I had accomplished and wanted to keep racing. But after I placed first in that class I got bumped up to a new class that had bigger bikes and faster kids. At the time I was still on the 100 and I was racing kids on bikes twice as big as mine.
I was only eight years old when I ran in the Districts and Regionals. The other girls I competed against were older than me. They weren’t that much older than me because I had to run with eight and under. The girls that were older than me were only older by a couple of months.
One incident I can recount when I experienced failure was when I joined Cross Country. Since, I can remember I have always excelled at everything I did, from my academics to dance class to music lessons. When I entered into my freshman year of high school, I decided I would to join an athletic team in order to keep myself occupied outside of academics. I figured joining a sport would be another good attribute to add to my resume.
Cross country has helped me with my transition from childhood and adulthood by teaching me that success is earned through hard work, determination, and leading by example. That's what I did after my first bad race, I worked hard and continued on my quest and showed my coaches and my teammates that I could lead the
My passion for speed is like noting in this world the real felling of freedom in my sole As I strap down and time slows down all I could think of is how fast could I go, to me it started at an early age when my dad broth home a small motorcycle I could barely fit on it of how small it was, at that time it was the fastest ting I have ever been on, the filling I got as I rode around the block I felt invisible like no one could touch me as if I owned the world and earth’s rotation could not keep up with me. Every year my dad will surprise me with a bigger and faster toy he knew my excitement and joy I felt every time I went fast, my happens always broth a smile to his face, not always was it an enjoyment.
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