Twenty-Sevens

Twice in my life have I crossed a finish line in over 27 minutes. The first was in 2009. As a twelve-year-old who had never really taken running seriously, I thought the result was decent for a 5k. My mom and I finished around the same time and we were proud of the accomplishment. There was something special about finishing my first distance race, and with my mom in Memorial Stadium, no less. From that point on, I had a different outlook about running. Though I was satisfied with my finish in the 5k, I became determined to improve in a way that was much more intense and competitive than my previous attitude about running.

The following year, my freshman year in high school, I used fitness classes and soccer to focus on getting faster. I used the PE teachers' high standards, along with falling short of a spot on the varsity soccer team, to push myself. "If I can't beat them with fancy footwork, at least I might be able to beat them to the ball," I thought at practices. Putting in work in gym class and on the field made a difference: by the end of the year, I had played in a varsity soccer game, as well as improved by over four minutes in the 5k.

Sophomore year, I joined cross country, which was a level of running competition very different from the fitness classes and soccer games I had been in before. In my first year of cross country running, my goal was to make the varsity team; I surprised myself by being the fourth-fastest girl on the team by the end of the season, and continued to set the bar higher as far as goals I could reach. From sophomore to senior year, I have improved steadily, with consistently better times in cross country races and increased endurance in long workouts.

Then came the second time that I finished a race in over 27 minutes. After recovering from a pulled muscle in my back, I was ready to run at the next meet. It was a good day for running; the weather was chilly when the girls' varsity race began, and the large number of teams at the race made the competition heated. I felt good as I ran, keeping my breathing under control and avoiding slipping on the muddy course. Yet as I finished going around the loop three times, something was definitely wrong. The race should have been over by that point, and I could feel it. My legs started to get tired, but the runners in front of me were still going too. I knew the race would eventually finish on the school's track, but without markings on the course or people to direct us to the finish, I resorted to following the girls ahead of me. We ran another lap and finally ended at the finish line on the track (for me, in a time just under 28 minutes). Instead of the expected three mile race, we ended up running four miles.

The situation was beyond confusing. While some people's results were normal, others' times were slower than usual as a result of the extra lap, which messed up both individuals' and teams' scores. Not to mention the frustration we all had. There was the nagging thought that maybe if the directions to the finish line had been clear, we would have gotten good times (later calculations showed that my pace throughout the four mile race would have been pretty close to my personal best three mile time).

But looking on the bright side, finishing that course in the same time it took me to finish a 5k three years earlier showed how much I had grown as a runner. I owe a lot of that to my teachers and coaches; the amount of effort they expect from runners at every practice makes everyone work harder than they probably would on their own. By being pushed to new levels, I have created tougher goals for myself, which has made training and racing both more challenging and more rewarding as time has gone on. It was bittersweet, finishing a race in 27 minutes for the second time. As much as I wanted as low of a time as possible, seeing the same time at the end of the race as I did in 2009 (except this time for four miles!) helped me realize how I have become the runner I am now.