I started running almost six years ago. I wasn’t a good runner, but running was the only sport left in the city after a teachers strike caused all in-school activities to be cancelled. I remember going to my first practice and running an “easy” 30 minutes with the then OFSSA medalist in cross country. I was exhausted, to say the least and not running easy. I finished and took one of the only naps I have ever taken since I was a toddler. I remember going to practice during the week and always being at the back of the group by a considerable amount. When my first race rolled around I was excited but nervous. This was the Ontario Indoor Championships after all. I was racing the 1500 meter race, which on an indoor track is seven and a half laps.
I approached the start line and the race official jokingly said, “You all know the rules so I don’t need to tell you” I wanted to tell him that I actually had no idea what I was doing, but I kept my mouth shut and copied what my competitors did. As the race starter called out his commands I was on forced autopilot.
“On your marks”
Everyone approached the starting line.
BANG!
The start gun went off and so did all of the competitors around me. We started out as a big mass of flailing feet and arms, but before long I settled into the back of the race group. I was wearing my new shoes, which were terrifyingly called spikes. This was rather appropriate since they were essentially a running shoe with a sole as thick as cardboard with long metal spikes attached to the bottom. The issue with my shoes was that I didn’t know you could have different length spikes. I was running on an indoor track with cross country spikes, which were almost double the length of what I should have been wearing. Along with my new shoes, I was wearing my new uniform. It was a red top with my teams’ logo on the back. All I can say about this top was it was like wearing a one-piece bathing suit that was way too tight and had nothing keeping it secure. As someone who was used to wearing baggy basketball, rugby, and soccer jerseys this was the most uncomfortable I had ever been in a uniform. I also had on some black, mid-thigh length shorts and calf height rainbow socks. To say the least I stood out as I ran each lap of my race pulling down the uniform that was riding up, while the socks kept riding down.
I ticked off lap after lap, while I got lapped by everyone else in the race but one person. I was breathing so heavy and couldn’t feel my legs with 3 laps to go. No tackle in rugby had ever hurt as much as this race, but oddly enough I was loving it. For the first four laps, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much the race hurt and how awkward I felt.
As I moved into my last two laps of my seven and a half lap race I tried to push as hard as I could. My mind finally started to go blank. I had no thoughts of pain, or how tired I felt. All I noticed was the feeling of my legs hitting the ground and the sound of each breath I took.
One lap was all that was left in this race. All the other runners had finished except one girl who was 50 meters ahead of me. As I tried to pick up my pace for the final stretch to the finish line my throat felt like I was breathing in sand. The final stretch also provided me with my thoughts again. I was no longer not thinking, but thinking a lot. Thinking about the pain in my legs, how I could barely breathe, and how I thought I might like to race again. I crossed the line dead last out of 75 girls, but hey I got a personal best.
I remember crossing the line and for a slight moment thinking I was going to throw up. I also remember the absolute numbness yet lead like heaviness of my legs. My coach told me good job and then went off with some of the other athletes who still had a race coming up. My parents came up to me after the race fully expecting me to hate that I came last. I am very competitive and hate to lose, but something about running was different. My parents said good job and asked if I was okay. To their surprise, I said I was great and that I loved running. I have a long list of why I loved that race. Maybe it was the fact I didn’t have to think, or that I didn’t have to compare myself to anyone but me.
Growing up I had never found a sport that I felt accomplished in just by my own effort. I never thought what I did in athletics was good enough, but crossing the line with everything I had that day changed my mind. Of course I wanted to work to get better, but I realized as long as I was beating myself I was improving. Running was the one sport where I felt I could come dead last, but still break a record in my own record book. After this race, I continued to train harder and harder. Running has truly changed my life. I know I am not the best by any means, but knowing that gives me something to always work toward. I also know I will never be the best, but I can be the best in my own right. The day I came last was the day I fell in love with the sport I call my passion.