"[But a] heart makes you a champion."
I was on my way to the Cross-Country Regional Tournament when I first heard these words. I questioned their reliability and that is the moment I started thinking about what had happened so far during the season.
Joining cross country was a spontaneous decision. While staying home all week, I felt the need to do something new and challenging. I felt the need to be part of something bigger than what I was used to seeing my whole life. I had never run before and that is because I come from a very small country where running is not a sport option. Thus, running was exactly what I was looking for; an opportunity to finally take responsibility for what I thought I would never like and to be part of a team. Running seemed to be the right decision.
The Regional Tournament was held in Walla Walla Park. During the time we were walking through the race course I knew this race would be my race. I had to do well because I was not only representing my school, I was also representing myself and more important, my country as an exchange international student from Albania. Yet I knew it was not going to be easy. What I have learned up until now is that beautiful things aren't easy to achieve.
I was standing at the starting line and I was feeling very excited. My goal for the day was to finish the race no matter what it would take. When the gun fired I started running. I have heard people saying the first mile is always the hardest one but somehow I always felt it to be easy for me. I was running and with all the excitement I had, I couldn't feel anything. However, right after the first mile I started hunching over because my stomach began hurting. I ignored it and tried not to think of it, but it kept getting worse. I told myself no matter what I would finish. My heart and my mind wanted me to finish the race, but my body wouldn't let me. It almost made me give up, quit. It made me want to walk away and pretend it didn't matter. What if I walked away from it? What would have happened if I just gave up right then? Then would I be walking away, not only from small things, but bigger and much more important things as well?
I pushed myself for almost half a mile and my stomach was hurting much more every second I kept running. It felt like someone was punching me so hard, I could barely run another ten feet. Finally, I stopped almost in tears. My coach was right behind me asking if I was OK. But I couldn't be OK. I had just given up. I felt disappointed and livid with my body.
I wanted to sit down at our tent and stay there. It had been hard for me; the practices, new friends, a completely new environment and mentality, a new family, but I worked myself hard. At least, that was what I thought thus far.
As I sat near the edge of the tent I saw a man walking toward me. He was probably in his forties and was wearing grey sweats. He asked me if I was feeling OK. He'd been watching me and just wanted to make sure I was feeling well. I nodded at him, but said nothing else. Then, he came closer and said something like this:
"Your health is much more important than any other thing right now. In fact it should always be the most important thing. I saw you pushing yourself for more than I had thought anyone would push running and hurting that bad. You know, we all have to lose sometimes before we can win; we have to cry sometimes before we can smile, and we have to hurt, before we can be strong. But if you keep working and believing, you will have victory in the end."
His words left me speechless. Somehow I found them true. This man who I didn't even know came up to me and made me realize what I had been looking for during this journey. Not only my health was important and that I had to listen to my body, but also I didn't need someone to tell me I had won. I didn't need someone to give me a trophy, nor write my name down on a gold plate to make me feel proud of myself. Winning is not about getting a medal; it is about learning as much as possible from that experience and putting those new things into life. Cross country isn't about being the first or the fastest. Neither is it about racing other people. The only person you are racing out there is yourself!
Racing taught me to challenge myself. It taught me to push beyond where I thought I could go. It helped me to find out of what I am truly made.
I was on my way to the Cross-Country Regional Tournament when I first heard these words. I questioned their reliability and that is the moment I started thinking about what had happened so far during the season.
Joining cross country was a spontaneous decision. While staying home all week, I felt the need to do something new and challenging. I felt the need to be part of something bigger than what I was used to seeing my whole life. I had never run before and that is because I come from a very small country where running is not a sport option. Thus, running was exactly what I was looking for; an opportunity to finally take responsibility for what I thought I would never like and to be part of a team. Running seemed to be the right decision.
The Regional Tournament was held in Walla Walla Park. During the time we were walking through the race course I knew this race would be my race. I had to do well because I was not only representing my school, I was also representing myself and more important, my country as an exchange international student from Albania. Yet I knew it was not going to be easy. What I have learned up until now is that beautiful things aren't easy to achieve.
I was standing at the starting line and I was feeling very excited. My goal for the day was to finish the race no matter what it would take. When the gun fired I started running. I have heard people saying the first mile is always the hardest one but somehow I always felt it to be easy for me. I was running and with all the excitement I had, I couldn't feel anything. However, right after the first mile I started hunching over because my stomach began hurting. I ignored it and tried not to think of it, but it kept getting worse. I told myself no matter what I would finish. My heart and my mind wanted me to finish the race, but my body wouldn't let me. It almost made me give up, quit. It made me want to walk away and pretend it didn't matter. What if I walked away from it? What would have happened if I just gave up right then? Then would I be walking away, not only from small things, but bigger and much more important things as well?
I pushed myself for almost half a mile and my stomach was hurting much more every second I kept running. It felt like someone was punching me so hard, I could barely run another ten feet. Finally, I stopped almost in tears. My coach was right behind me asking if I was OK. But I couldn't be OK. I had just given up. I felt disappointed and livid with my body.
I wanted to sit down at our tent and stay there. It had been hard for me; the practices, new friends, a completely new environment and mentality, a new family, but I worked myself hard. At least, that was what I thought thus far.
As I sat near the edge of the tent I saw a man walking toward me. He was probably in his forties and was wearing grey sweats. He asked me if I was feeling OK. He'd been watching me and just wanted to make sure I was feeling well. I nodded at him, but said nothing else. Then, he came closer and said something like this:
"Your health is much more important than any other thing right now. In fact it should always be the most important thing. I saw you pushing yourself for more than I had thought anyone would push running and hurting that bad. You know, we all have to lose sometimes before we can win; we have to cry sometimes before we can smile, and we have to hurt, before we can be strong. But if you keep working and believing, you will have victory in the end."
His words left me speechless. Somehow I found them true. This man who I didn't even know came up to me and made me realize what I had been looking for during this journey. Not only my health was important and that I had to listen to my body, but also I didn't need someone to tell me I had won. I didn't need someone to give me a trophy, nor write my name down on a gold plate to make me feel proud of myself. Winning is not about getting a medal; it is about learning as much as possible from that experience and putting those new things into life. Cross country isn't about being the first or the fastest. Neither is it about racing other people. The only person you are racing out there is yourself!
Racing taught me to challenge myself. It taught me to push beyond where I thought I could go. It helped me to find out of what I am truly made.