Don’t let me fall

I wanted to give up. As I ran up a hill dubbed “heart attack hill” by fellow runners, I felt weak. I was never meant to be a cross country runner, and yet, I was running in the WCAL championships—the final race in my freshman year. With my legs slowly churning, I made it up the hill, ran the last quarter of a mile, and crossed the finish line…83rd out of 90. Even though my results were beyond mediocre, that race was significant for me. I had just completed a full season of cross country—a season that even my best friend thought I would give up on. I had finished.

While I was proud of my perseverance then, just a year and a half later, it seemed that I was about to quit. I was no longer dealing with cross country, but rather, something I was good at: Speech and Debate. After a disappointing sophomore season in which I failed to qualify for the State Championships and wasn’t even selected to go to the National Qualifying Tournament, I felt disillusioned, convinced that my best efforts would not be enough. As other sophomores breezed through competition at the State Championships, I sat on the sideline, telling myself that they were just naturally better than me and that no matter how hard I worked, I would be unable to keep up. I doubted myself, and edged closer and closer to quitting. It seemed that Speech and Debate wasn’t for me, and I had seen enough.

But then, I got an email from one of my debate captains. I expected it to be an assignment for some tournament I wouldn’t even be attending but instead found a heartfelt paragraph urging me to stick with the team. In the email, the captain appreciated the work I did for the team and reminded me to do two things that in retrospect seem obvious: keep your head up and keep working hard. Most importantly, he reminded me that I was not a quitter.

After spending my sophomore summer at debate camp, I felt ready for junior year. I began the season by giving more practice speeches than anyone else on the team. After three months of practice, I entered my first tournament feeling confident…and failed to even semifinal. I felt frustration, but responded the right way. I had matured past my sophomore self, and instead of doubting my abilities, I stayed positive and just gave more speeches.

Two months later, my work paid off. At the second tournament of the year, I advanced to the final round, ultimately taking first place. While I was ecstatic about winning, that tournament was about far more than a trophy. It was much-needed proof that if I dedicated enough time to Speech and Debate, I actually could keep up with people who simply had more innate talent than me. I just needed heart. My junior year ended up being a breakout season, as I competed at both the State and National Championships. I was named a junior policy captain, becoming a friend and mentor for underclassmen on the team. When they struggled in debate or school, I realized that they, like me, sometimes just needed a little encouragement. I became a part of something greater than myself—a team that supported me and gave me passion for Speech and Debate; a team to fight for. One year after I wanted to quit, I had found a home.

I was a loser. I was 83rd place in Cross Country and had wanted to give up on an activity that has become the cornerstone of my high school career. But losing in my freshman and sophomore years did not define me. I kept going, and in both an activity that I was miserable at and in one in which I excel, I learned how to win by not giving up.