How do you spend time when you’re not in class; focus on what you’ve gained

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How do you spend time when you’re not in class; focus on what you’ve gained


The finish line flutters lightly in the breeze. My lungs exhale and I gasp for air as my legs wobble beneath me. Shooting pains stab my abdomen and legs. My throat contracts and I feel like my body is going to explode into a thousand tiny pieces. And not a single person understands how horrible I feel…


“Keep going Monique! You look strong. Kaite is a few seconds ahead of you; you can catch her!” my coach, Jerry dashes past me, shouting out words of support. Sounds like a great idea; however, my legs are weights, each stride dragging me down as I progress one step closer to the finish line in sheer agony. Sweat slowly streams down my entire body and my chest squeezes tightly against me, like a snake capturing its prey. He thinks I appear strong, but my body is screaming, Please Stop!


Water, I need water. My eyes catch a glimpse of Kaite, right ahead of me. My legs become numb, I feel the wind breezing through my hair as the sun beats its unforgiving heat down on my shoulders. A tear rolls gently down my cheek as I lose all feeling in my body. Just run Monique, finish! My body flies through the chute, passing the finish line and I almost collapse.


Do my coursework


What am I doing? During basketball season, I sprint up and down the court with ease, never winded or panting. My spot on the cross-country team is of no surprise to anyone. If I can finish a simple sprint before anyone else is halfway up the court, I should absolutely succeed at this.


The timer flatly calls out, “Twenty-three minutes and thirty-eight seconds.” I can barely drag my body out of the chute to the wooden benches, under the cool shade of the ancient oak trees. I glance at Kaite. She lies on the lush lawn, motionless, but she can finish a race in twenty-two minutes. My dad congratulates me. Chest heaving, my lungs eagerly thirst for just one small gulp of fresh air.


This is it; my entire cross-country career depends on today’s events; we run six miles every practice, training for this .-mile league meet. Ten teams are competing for victory, yet I place second in my school. Why am I not satisfied? Perhaps it is because every runner from every school besides Dublin has beaten me.


I pat my face with my sweat-soaked, red and blue jersey and splash a bottle of icy water on my face. Rejuvenated, my senses return to me. Everyone finishes the race and begins to crowd around me. Jerry inquires if I will try out for the team next year. He announces that I will be a senior leader, but my body will not permit me to do this any longer. My heart pounding, legs throbbing, and throat constricting greedily for air, I can not do this anymore!


My father hands me a sandwich and I devour it ravenously, stewing over my performance. I practice and practice for a measly medal and come up shorthanded. Although my overall ranking is horrible, I somehow manage to place second in Dublin and my father is overcome with pride. Suddenly, I decide that my physical well-being is far more important than any medal, and earning second in my school is remarkably admirable. I gaze at Kaite once more and realize that I do not need to trade places with her in order to be content with life. I throw my shoes over my shoulder, a casual smile gradually growing on my face. My effort is undoubtedly worth first place, yet second is quite respectable. No matter what I do, if I give one hundred and ten percent, I will try not to let second discourage me. This newfound satisfaction is better than any material object I could ever obtain, and still holds true for my own life.








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