"One! Two! Three!" And I rip my pants off.
This isn't some sort of joke; it is our tradition in hurdle crew. To pull off our buttoned down sweats which represent so much mental luggage and prepare to soar. The first time my pants came off it was liberating. I was casting away my doubts in myself and rejoicing in the cold air swirling around my body. Since then, every time I stand behind the starting line, this bashful act affirms my strength. It is an instant where I can visualize my entire race and then let it go, because my courage is all I need. I can abandon rational thought, embrace my reckless spirit, and face the fear of throwing myself at full sprint into metal bars. And even after ripping the tendons in my ankles, even after developing Avascular necrosis, I must continue to hurdle. Because for me it has ceased to be a sport. It is how I face fear.
This isn't some sort of joke; it is our tradition in hurdle crew. To pull off our buttoned down sweats which represent so much mental luggage and prepare to soar. The first time my pants came off it was liberating. I was casting away my doubts in myself and rejoicing in the cold air swirling around my body. Since then, every time I stand behind the starting line, this bashful act affirms my strength. It is an instant where I can visualize my entire race and then let it go, because my courage is all I need. I can abandon rational thought, embrace my reckless spirit, and face the fear of throwing myself at full sprint into metal bars. And even after ripping the tendons in my ankles, even after developing Avascular necrosis, I must continue to hurdle. Because for me it has ceased to be a sport. It is how I face fear.
