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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Personal Growth / Achievement
- Published: 04/30/2023
“You got this! Keep going!”
The cheering and clapping of the crowd filled my brain as I continued to push myself toward the steep hill. I can’t stop now. What will everyone think? I felt like all of my hard work came down to this single hill that laid in front of me.
I had spent the long winter months waking up each morning with the sun and birds. Each day began like the previous one: sneakers, headphones, and stretching. The crisp air filled my lungs as I ran out the front door, greeted by the empty streets and sidewalks. The world became my very own training ground. As my knees pounded against the pavement, I found peace in the growing sun. This dreaded time quickly became my favorite time of day.
I was born into a “running family.” I lost count of how many marathons my dad has participated in, and I’m pretty sure my mom travels by foot more than she does by vehicle. My brother, Mike, has followed in their footsteps by running when he can, and competes in at least 4 races throughout the year. Unlike him, I didn’t naturally fall into the running life; I put up a fight.
“Running is the best thing for you, I don’t know how people can dislike it,” my dad questioned during many dinner conversations in grade school.
“You would be a fool not to join the track team, Colleen,” my mom suggested in her serious voice.
“Of course I will,” I replied while rolling my eyes. “What could be funner than running?”
Hundreds of practices and a handful of track meets later, I found myself agreeing with my parents and laughing at the idea of once disagreeing with them. The time had come that my dad finally asked the big question. The question I had been nervous about for a while.
“So, the marathon is in November. What are we thinking?”
I felt my heart sink and speed up at the same time. Oh no, am I ready for this? The words suddenly came out before I could even fully process the question.
“Yeah, let’s do it!”
I couldn’t let him down. He had been waiting years for this experience. Finally, we could spend hours of training and bonding together.
It was at mile marker 20 when my legs began to lose feeling. The dreaded incline I had spent all those mornings training for was finally upon me. My dad was a few yards ahead. His neon sweatshirt was dancing in the crowd. A runner next to me looked over with a face of panic. It was as if we shared one brain. We smiled and ran together, side by side, up the hill that seemed endless.
I saw the timers on the side and was disappointed to see that I wouldn’t reach my goal. A goal that motivated me to wake up hours before the day began. A goal that I spoke to my dad about for months. A goal that I promised myself I would reach. None of that seemed important anymore.
“We got this! Look!”
The finish line was in view. My new running buddy was still at my side, and it seemed as though the race would not allow us to drift apart. Instead, our bodies ran parallel effortlessly.
“There she is!” My dad cheered on, gripping his medal while shoving a banana into his mouth.
I crossed the finish line with my new running buddy. We high-fived, only to be separated before learning each other’s names. I’m sure we’ll never forget each other.
I didn’t reach my goal, but I accomplished something more on that November morning. I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t wait to do it again.
The Big Race(Colleen Matkowski)
“You got this! Keep going!”
The cheering and clapping of the crowd filled my brain as I continued to push myself toward the steep hill. I can’t stop now. What will everyone think? I felt like all of my hard work came down to this single hill that laid in front of me.
I had spent the long winter months waking up each morning with the sun and birds. Each day began like the previous one: sneakers, headphones, and stretching. The crisp air filled my lungs as I ran out the front door, greeted by the empty streets and sidewalks. The world became my very own training ground. As my knees pounded against the pavement, I found peace in the growing sun. This dreaded time quickly became my favorite time of day.
I was born into a “running family.” I lost count of how many marathons my dad has participated in, and I’m pretty sure my mom travels by foot more than she does by vehicle. My brother, Mike, has followed in their footsteps by running when he can, and competes in at least 4 races throughout the year. Unlike him, I didn’t naturally fall into the running life; I put up a fight.
“Running is the best thing for you, I don’t know how people can dislike it,” my dad questioned during many dinner conversations in grade school.
“You would be a fool not to join the track team, Colleen,” my mom suggested in her serious voice.
“Of course I will,” I replied while rolling my eyes. “What could be funner than running?”
Hundreds of practices and a handful of track meets later, I found myself agreeing with my parents and laughing at the idea of once disagreeing with them. The time had come that my dad finally asked the big question. The question I had been nervous about for a while.
“So, the marathon is in November. What are we thinking?”
I felt my heart sink and speed up at the same time. Oh no, am I ready for this? The words suddenly came out before I could even fully process the question.
“Yeah, let’s do it!”
I couldn’t let him down. He had been waiting years for this experience. Finally, we could spend hours of training and bonding together.
It was at mile marker 20 when my legs began to lose feeling. The dreaded incline I had spent all those mornings training for was finally upon me. My dad was a few yards ahead. His neon sweatshirt was dancing in the crowd. A runner next to me looked over with a face of panic. It was as if we shared one brain. We smiled and ran together, side by side, up the hill that seemed endless.
I saw the timers on the side and was disappointed to see that I wouldn’t reach my goal. A goal that motivated me to wake up hours before the day began. A goal that I spoke to my dad about for months. A goal that I promised myself I would reach. None of that seemed important anymore.
“We got this! Look!”
The finish line was in view. My new running buddy was still at my side, and it seemed as though the race would not allow us to drift apart. Instead, our bodies ran parallel effortlessly.
“There she is!” My dad cheered on, gripping his medal while shoving a banana into his mouth.
I crossed the finish line with my new running buddy. We high-fived, only to be separated before learning each other’s names. I’m sure we’ll never forget each other.
I didn’t reach my goal, but I accomplished something more on that November morning. I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t wait to do it again.
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