Runner’s Spotlight: Joseph

Today’s runner’s Spotlight is a different format than my usual as I had my son share a 8th grade writing piece he wrote for class. I really enjoyed reading and learning about his thoughts about his 2 years running in Cross Country. So without further ado, here is Joseph’s story!

“Ouch!” I cried in pain.

“Ice it,” my mother instructed me.

I grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and put it on my heel.

“It feels like a thousand bullet ants bit me,” I explained.

The next few days, I ran and then had extreme pain in my heel. Stretching it didn’t help. I put on heel compression socks, but those didn’t work. My mom concluded that I had Achille’s heel.

“How am I ever going to get my 2-mile time under 14:00 minutes?” I complained helplessly, “I feel like quitting.”

My mom slid me a protein shake across the counter.

“Just give it a few more weeks,” she advised, “then decide whether you want to quit cross country. For example, you have a race next week.”

I was just starting 7th grade then, and I had been running for the past 3 years. I tended to have pain in my heels, but nothing like this. My week continued with cross country practice after school. Our runs would vary from 2 to 5 miles. Later, I ran a qualifier in 15:30.  I somehow managed to keep up with the top runners.

Before I knew it, it was time to run my first race. I had to arrive early at school in the morning, and from there we boarded a school bus. I got bored, so I looked outside the window as the scenery passed by. It was barren. The bus halted to a stop at a red light.

“Is that a tank?” my friend asked, looking out the window.

I also looked out the window, and there it was! A tank was parked on the hill above the road. No one was in it.

“That’s unusual!” My coach chuckled.

The light turned green, and we continued. Nothing else was exciting until we got to the entrance of the course. The place looked either like a junkyard or a sewage plant.

“I’m starting to think this course is a warzone,” the runner next to me stated.

We finally arrived at the course. Despite the road leading to it, it was pretty. There was lots of greenery. A thin layer of fog added a mysterious tone to it. The grass smelled freshly cut and glistened with dew.

My coach went down the runners list, telling each of us whether we would be running Varsity or JV (Junior Varsity).

“Joseph,” he called out at the end of the Varsity list.

That meant I was 7th best on the team. I had never ranked that high. In front of me was Ryker, Knox, Landon, and some 8th graders.

“Try to keep up with Ryker and Knox,” he instructed me.

We found a place to set the canopy tent up. After that, we set up the tent and our coach told us Varsity runners to warm up for the race. We did a variety of dynamic stretches and static stretches. Right before the race, we prayed a prayer. We headed to the starting line, where the other teams were already lined up.

“When the pistol shoots, you may start running,” the race starter instructed all the runners.

Everyone tensed and got ready to run.

Bang! The pistol sounded. Everyone took off. I got a good start, being around where Knox and Ryker were. The mud squelched under our feet, spraying it on our shoes. Just as I started to relax, the pain in my heel kicked in. I struggled to keep up with Knox and Ryker.

“You got this! Don’t walk!” One of my coaches yelled over the cheering of the spectators.

6 minutes in, and I was feeling out of breath. Knox and Ryker began to disappear into the distance. I resided to walk for 20 seconds. Just as my other coach was in sight, I resumed running. 1 mile passed at approximately 7:15 minutes. My confidence dropped as I realized that all the Cartersville runners were ahead of me. I ran through pain while the minutes passed. As I thought things couldn’t get worse, my stomach tightened. When I saw the finish line in the distance, I summoned my last bits of energy. Surprisingly enough, I sped past many people. The clock came into sight, and I finished at 15:22. My surroundings darkened as I stopped. No! I thought. I gripped onto the last sense of consciousness I had to stop myself from fainting. I found my way to the Canes tent and quickly drank some water. Finally, my surroundings fully came back to me. I broke my personal record by 8 seconds. But I was disappointed because I finished last for the Varsity team.

Later, the team rankings were announced. I congratulated my JV teammates as they were called. Then, the Varsity rankings were announced, and we placed on the podium. We got a picture, and my mom took me home. That afternoon, I learned that I topped the 50th percentile in the race’s Varsity rankings. I felt discouraged for the rest of the day.

I continued running throughout the next week. We had another race in which I had a time of 15:15 minutes. It was improvement, but still not my goal. But it motivated me not to quit. It told me I would go through whatever pain I had, and I would achieve my goal of getting my time under 14:00 minutes.

 Overall, my boost of confidence helped me with my practices. One day we were doing hard hill workouts.

“You think the Dellinger hill is difficult and steep to run, but Run at the Rock takes it to a whole another level,” my coach explained to us, especially to the new 6th graders. I remembered it from last year. It was miserable. The hill seemed to go on infinitely. I shivered at the memory.

“We’ll be doing 6 laps on the hills,” he continued.

My teammates groaned with distaste. What a terrible workout this will be! I thought. Most people did the laps, but some people cut the laps. It was tempting to cut them myself, but I restrained myself. By the end of the workout, my feet were on fire. My coach noticed some of the lap-cutters.

“I’m training y’all for Run at the Rock. If you don’t want to run the practices completely, then you can quit the team,” he warned and threatened. The rest of the week’s practices were terrible. It happened to be ridiculously hot that week.

On that week’s Saturday, I had a race. I got a time of 15:07. Slow improvement. We went back to school and had a variety of types of practices.

Before I knew it, it was the day of Run at the Rock. My mom drove me to the course, and I found my way to the tent.

“What time ya aiming for?” I asked Knox as I arrived.

“Around 14:00 minutes,” he replied modestly.

We warmed up and got ready for the race. Then, we headed to the starting line. The race starter went through instructions.

Bang! The pistol sounded. Once again, I got off to a good start. Not too fast, not too slow. The first mile went by quickly, and the course started going up the hill. I remembered my coaches’ advice on hills. Go up them on your toes, then go down them fast, but not too fast that you trip and fall, I repeated in my head. Unfortunately, I was unprepared for this hill. I went up, thought that the hills were over, went up again, thought the hills were definitely over, went up again, knew there were no hills for sure, and yet once again, went up again. I walked the last part and made it to the top of the long, steep hill. I was sure there was no way there were more hills. I was wrong. Again. Yes, there was no uphill, but a constant up and down. I ran down, up again, and down, over and over again.

“Keep going! Almost there!” My coaches yelled at me from a place hidden from view.

Finally, I could see the clearing that led out of this dense forest path. I sprinted and crossed the finish line. My coach told me my time. 14:22! A great accomplishment! I got water and a bar. I headed to the tent and waited for the other runners. Landon came in beside me, so he had about the same time. Soon Knox and Ryker came in. They had times around 14:30. I congratulated them, took pictures with people, and then headed home. Hurricane Alley! I thought.

It was two weeks before Hurricane Alley. I ran well at practices, and I got used to my heel pain. As Hurricane Alley neared, I started having bad knee cramps. Why must I have another problem? I thought. I iced them the day before the race.

“This is one of your last races,” my mom told me that evening.

“I hope I get my time under 14:00 minutes,” I sighed.

I ate well and went to bed early that evening.

I woke up feeling refreshed and free of pain. I did not eat breakfast, and my mom drove me to Dellinger Park. I walked over to the Canes tent and greeted my friends.

“Ready for the race, Ryker?” I asked.

“Yeah, a bit nervous,” he responded. The time came to warm up, and I felt confident. But just at the end of warm-ups, I got a knee cramp. We headed towards the starting line. We prayed a short prayer and kept moving to keep from getting stiff.

“Distract the pain away from your legs,” one of the cross-country girls suggested to us, “For example, I grip my palm.”

I took note of her advice and tried doing it to distract me from my knee cramp. I wasn’t sure whether it would work. A few minutes later, we arranged ourselves according to our speed. This race was only for JV Boys. The race starter voice rang up as he instructed us on the pistol firing. I felt everybody tense as we waited for the pistol to fire.

Bang! And we took off. I kept my pace steady. The top runners started to get separated from the rest. So, I picked up my pace and kept up with them. There were 3 Canes runners in front of me, plus 10 other school runners. I could hear the crunch of gravel as the top runners stepped onto it. I passed a runner. I kept my breath steady. At this rate, I would easily get my time under 14:00 minutes. A mile passed and the rankings barely changed. Only one kid slowed down and walked. I started to feel good, but then, my knee started cramping again. You’ve got be kidding me! I thought. I dug my fingers into my palm. We turned around a corner and my coach was there.

“Pass that kid and catch up with Knox! You’re averaging 6:45 minutes a mile!” My coach yelled at me.

I struggled to pass the kid, but I couldn’t catch up with Knox. We turned a few more corners and time passed. I was glad that it was a flat course. A few minutes passed by, and my wonderful coach popped up again.

“800 meters! Run faster and keep that pace!” He instructed me.

By now, my whole body hurt. I saw the clock and relaxed. 13:00! Suddenly, a stomach cramp took hold of me. I was forced to walk. 13:15! I remembered how I never stopped trying to achieve my goal during the season. 13:25! I remembered how much my goal meant to me. 13:35! All of a sudden, I ran. I ran like I never had before. 13:40! I passed a runner. 13:45! I reached my max speed! 13:50! I passed another runner. 13:55! I looked at the finish line, which was several feet ahead of me. I thought about all I had been through that season. I put a final burst of speed, zooming past the finish line! Someone stopped me and gave me a medal. A medal! I hadn’t had a medal since the beginning of 5th grade. They told me I was in 8th place. 8th! Out of 200 runners! I had never run that well. It wasn’t until later I was told my time. 13:58!

“How did you do, Knox?” I asked Knox, as I entered the canopy tent.

“Around 13:45,” he replied proudly.

I went to the finish line and watched my friends cross it. I congratulated each of them. Later, it was announced that the JV boys Cartersville team had won the JV race! They took our picture and started clearing out the race material. My mom took me home. I slept and ate well, feeling very accomplished. The sweet taste of victory! My season continued, and I struggled practicing for Wingfoot. But I ran Wingfoot in 13:12. I didn’t give up on my goals, so I achieved them. I persisted through my pain. I had a great season.

                                Author’s Notes

This is a true story about running in 7th grade. Unfortunately, after the cross-country season, my knee pains started to get worse. Around the spring, I stopped running. I went to a doctor and had x-rays done. I was diagnosed with Osgood-Schlatter disease. Luckily, this disease is only temporary and happens when the growth plates in your knees have trouble supporting you when you grow in height and weight. Anyways, in the summer of 7th to 8th grade I decided to quit cross-country. Although quitting cross-country let me spend more time doing things I enjoy more, I regret not running this year. I’d like to give a special thanks to my coaches, Coach Matherne, Coach Terry, Coach Paradis, and Coach Whitton, for all they taught me about perseverance and running.

A bientôt!

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