Overcomer
running on pure grit
Collapsing more than contracting, my muscles ache as each foot scrapes and kicks back the red dust behind me. Blood, vigorously boiling in my veins, begs me for more oxygen, but every breath in is dried up as soon as it hits my desert lungs. Steady breaths hiss behind me, slithering down my neck. They seem so precise, so perfect, effortless compared to the ragged puffs of air that escape my lips. My eyes squeeze shut, I am fast, I am free, I am powerful; the words that usually give me strength are suddenly mocking my shaky strides.
** *
“Come on Em race me!” Curt chanted on the back porch of my Grandma’s red brick home. Growing up with eleven siblings, I quickly learned the benefits of being quick. If you were fast, you always got the first serving of ice cream. If you were fast, you could get away from stray dogs and stinky brothers. If you were fast, you never lost.
“Alright, I’m coming!” I replied with a grin. Lining up on the cold cement, we both waited for my dads signal. The hand flew down and we were off! I ran as hard as my little legs could go, my tiny feet squishing into the soft grass as we sped across the yard and around the enormous pine tree. In the shadows of the pine I slipped past my brother, pride filled my five year old heart for that split second before fingers clenched at my shirt, throwing me backwards. My head hit the ground hard only to hear the pounding of my brothers shoes grow faint as he took the lead. Sitting up, tears slipped down my rounded cheeks, they never let me win.
* * *
Try to force out negative thoughts. Doubt, something so foreign to me, has suddenly invaded my entire being. Wow! You seem tired, why don’t you slow down, you cant run this fast, you never will be a good runner; These creep into my mind like the girl in the red jersey creeps by my side and slowly takes the lead. Iron fists take an uppercut to my heart and my lungs cease to work. Hot sweat sears my skin in replace of my five year old tears. Red, that’s all I see. My eyes focus in on that jersey with a sudden urge of disappointment. My stride shortens as I lower my gaze to the white laces below me.
* * *
Oh man this is the hardest thing of my life!, was the only thing I could think of as running my third cross country practice up the 5 mile hill called Cascade Springs. We would run this trail every Friday to have the coach’s time and evaluate who should be on varsity for the upcoming season…I was beginning to regret my decision to join the team. Tired, I considered walking to relief my burning calves when Rachel, my coach, ran up to my side.
“Hey Em, how’s it going?”
Ugg not Rachel! I can’t walk in front of coach….never can I look bad in front of a coach. “Oh everything is just peachy” I replied grimacing at the long trail of rocks and dirt in front of me.
“Isn’t it beautiful up here?” she said enthusiastically “This is probably my favorite run.” For the first time I looked up and was taken aback! We were on top of the world up here! The sun had just barely begun to raise its tired head above the barricading mountains, mist rising up from the lake spread across the valley, and together they created a warm yellow glow that encompassed the frosted fields. Suddenly I forgot the pain and began to quicken my pace along with hers as I took in my surroundings. Cool air filled my lungs and I felt like flying as we ran to the top.
“Well, I’ve got to keep going to check up on the boys, have fun running down!” she said flashing optimism through her smile.
Returning the grin I turned on my heel and began the quick descend down the soft dirt trail. Each step took me further toward the end of the workout and it was then that I realized I had a passion for running.
* * *
From my shoes my eyes glance up at my coach
“Emily 5 seconds, that’s all you need, a five second surge on this straight and you can catch her!” she screamed from the fence.
From my coach I set my eyes back on the girl in red. Breathing in determination I throw my elbows back in unison with the digging in of my spikes. My team screams along with the animated crowd but their voices are silent to my ears as I cover more ground on the track. Feeling the energy around me I let it soak into my skin with a chill. The sound of my spikes scraping against the rough surface of the track, coincide with the intense rhythm of heart. In my mind I take the advice of my coach, five seconds. One…two…three…
* * *
I shake uncontrollably as sobs choke me. My face hot and red is buried into my grandmothers as I try to retell her of my aching heart. Soaking her shirt with my tears, I let her encompassing arms calm my grief-stricken soul. We both remain silent, unable to speak. Someone had gone and left my life, someone who would run her hands through my hair, and tell me how important I was to her. Someone who would share with me a grapefruit on summer mornings, listen to old western music, and laugh at all the silly little things I would do. That someone was my mother. I hated crying, but it had become a habit for the past month. Never in my life had I felt more pain. It started in my heart and ached throughout my entire body day after day. I had no contact with my friends. They were too afraid of talking to me I guess. I felt like a different person living in a nightmare. Imagining my life without my mom? How could I? She was always there when I came home from school, when I needed help with homework, when I needed a hug, and when I was hurt. But now she wasn’t there when i hurt the most…what was I to do.
I finally spoke through trembling lips, “I just can’t do it” another sob escaped, my grandma held my exhausted body upright before words came clambering out again, “I’m tired of feeling this way…I don’t act the same and most days I feel like I don’t deserve to live another day down.”
And with that, my grandmother stepped back and carefully crafted her hands around my face, her tired eyes shimmered as she analyzed the details of my expression, “You are stronger than you know. You’ll get through this, I promise.”
* * *
…I am strong…4….5. Red escapes my view as I slip past into the track in front of her. One more Lap I think as I follow the two white lines on either side of me. 400’s are ease, I run them all the time in practice and after three I just had one more left to go in this mile. Curving around onto the next straight, I find myself in second place, first is just a few yards off. Confidently, I quicken my pace to sprint to catch her. My body turns to flames and cries in agony for me to stop, but I can’t….because my heart is screaming to go faster. Sensations change and I suddenly can’t feel anything at all as I run up to match my pace with the girl who was in first for the final stretch. Grit is the only thing left to determine this race as we battle to the finish line. Feel fast, feel free, feel powerful, fast, free, powerful, fast, free….I pull slightly ahead with ten yards left to go. Everything breaking down as I force myself to finish not even a second before my competitor. Nearly collapsing I stumble past the clock, heaving my triumph in with the warm afternoon air; I feel a hand rest upon my shoulder and look back to exchange weary smiles with my opponent. Red comes in next then fourth place then fifth. They come in as I did, tired, with legs quaking beneath them, nothing but the pride of finishing holding up their delicate frames. We all overcame and never has there been a better race.