Pushing through the Pain

Camille Torgesen
Sep 8, 2018 · 3 min read

As my feet push into the soft sand, I accelerate up the hill, the adrenaline coursing through me. I hear the heavy breathing of the runner behind me. They’re getting closer.

I spare a glance behind me and see that there is not one, but two runners on my tail. I let out a grunt and push even harder. If I don’t come in 8th place I know my team will not make it to state.

As we near the top of the hill I see pavement and am filled with delight. Finally I will be able to give 100%.

I hit the top of the hill and see my coach standing with her clip board just 100 meters away. She is standing at the two mile mark which means I only have one more to go.

My body is tired.

I feel like I have been sprinting the whole race, but I can’t slow down. I gasp for air, but it hurts to breath.

As I pass my coach she yells me my time. 13:20. If I can keep this pace for one more mile I will break 20 minutes, but just barely.

I have to go faster.

As we near the down hill I can tell I’m about to be passed. For a split second I slow down, ‘I can’t do this’ I think. ‘It hurts too much.’ These thoughts are swirling through my brain and I find myself slowing down ever so slightly. I am passed by the girl my coach told me to beat.

My goal comes back into focus. I let out a small yell and push myself harder. The girl looks back, confused by my yell, but I ignore her expression and run past her. The downhill feels good. I can lengthen my stride. I tilt my head back and close my eyes for a second.

I am almost there.

As soon as I round the bend I see the small steep hill, and I know that just beyond that is the finish. With the girls behind me hot on my trail, I pump my arms and propel myself up the hill. I see the finish and almost smile because this is my element: the final sprint.

I feel my pursuers quicken their pace, but I know their sprints are no match for mine. I run past my family, tears streaming down my face. My eyes are on the clock. 19:52. I am so close. I give it everything and launch across the purple line.

I stumble and almost collapse. Someone catches me. They give me water, but I can’t drink. I take a sip, but I spit it out. I dump the rest on myself.

I’m so hot and my throat is on fire.

I put my hands behind my head and walk to where my coach is standing by the finish. I can breath now. My coach sees me and her face lights into a smile, but she doesn’t have time to talk because we still have two more runners.

I look at the clip board. 19:59. I did it.

My best friend, the team’s number one runner, comes over to me. We smile and hug, we are going to state.

Camille Torgesen

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