Things I Remember
I remember hiding from the sun under the bleachers at an all-day track meet, eating the pineapple that my mom packed for me.
I remember hanging out at a friend’s house instead of doing the run, carefully counting down the time until we should leave so we didn’t raise suspicions.
I remember sitting in the grass at cross country camp, picking clumps out from the ground and piling it on a friend’s knee.
I remember lying to my coach about how many reps we did so he added two extra, except that it still ended up being less than he originally wanted us to do.
I remember getting the baton in a relay with a girl already halfway around the turn and feeling the doubt I had slowly but steadily turn into determination.
I remember hours and hours spent on buses and in vans with teammates singing in the rows behind me.
I remember getting so angry at a teammate for cutting me off in a workout, and I still feel bad about that because she didn’t do anything wrong.
I remember sitting in my dorm as a senior gave me a stern talking to about going out to the bar a weekend before because it was championship season.
I remember that she never asked me how I was feeling.
I remember crying after not making the cut for the championship team and a teammate telling me that everything was going to work out fine.
I remember another athlete telling me that she looked up to me, at a moment when I was questioning if I even wanted to continue in the sport.
I remember comparing my stomach to everyone else’s in the picture.
I remember walk-jogging in the park and wondering if people were judging me.
I remember the first time that someone told me that they remembered something I had said to them to get through a hard spot in a race.
I remember finding a group of people to run with and feeling like maybe I had a team again.
I remember a friend biking out to meet me because she knew I was struggling and riding next to me in silence just so I wasn’t alone.
I remember crying as I passed someone at the end of the marathon because I recognized her from the start.
I remember holding my arms out like an airplane on a downhill and thinking that it felt like running through a field with my friends again.
I don’t remember how it felt to run my last collegiate race.
I don’t remember the moment that I decided that I wasn’t going to pursue competitive running anymore.
I don’t remember when running became not just a thing I did, but a part of who I am.
