I'm A Runner. I Run.

My first day, I remember, after putting on my shoes and driving to school, I was completely unready to do what I was volunteering myself to do. Hunter was with me, at least, and the Holden kid, but he was so quiet. Mr. Rouse met us with the rest of the team and spoke to us a bit. The seniors looked bored; the juniors felt empowered with their new sense of authority; the sophomores were thankful they were not the freshman anymore; and the freshmen, well, we, Hunter, Holden, Danny, Austin, and I, felt very small and ill-prepared. Hunter made me do it. I wasn't happy with him. And so it began, my first run. I went from dreading "The Mile" to dreading "The Eight Mile" or "The Ten Mile" in a matter of weeks. In a month I was in shape and pushing myself to new speeds and distances. As the season came to a close I was racing at Bell Jeff Invitational; it was there my running career began a downward spiral. I sprain my ankle at the top of the last hill and raced to the finish on a quickly expanding balloon of an ankle. After that day I was plagued with knee injuries, shin splints, and a myriad of other ailments. On any other team or in any other sport I am sure I would have quit in humiliation and defeat. I am sure of this. But it was not to be, not after having John Rouse as my coach and mentor and not after suffering with my team. Coach Rouse is known, in running, to be the teacher of "mental toughness." It is why a hill does not phase me. It is why I have never walked in a race. It is why my team and I are able to do what our bodies scream they are unable to do.

It wasn't until the end of Junior year, during Track, that I was able to improve because of my lack of serious injury. I qualified for the JV league finals in the 800. I remember the gun going off in that race and taking the first few strides off of the line. I rounded the curve with 6 people in front of me. I controlled my breathing and weighed my options, determining at what point I would make a move. I caught two people on the back stretch and came into the last curve in 5th place. Progress. I had one lap to go and was in range of the four ahead of me. One of those four had over-shot himself and fell behind me rather quickly going into the back stretch. I looked ahead and saw the next runner was the same runner I had raced against in the qualifiers. I smiled because I knew I could beat him. My body screamed at me and my lungs threatened to revolt but I ignored their pleas. Rouse, at that point, was no longer my coach but it was his coaching that enabled me to do what I was about to do. I had reached the point at which I needed to make my final move and begin my full sprint down the last stretch to the finish. And so I went. In every race I have ever run I remind myself of the following as I make the final sprint toward the line: "He will lift me up on wings of Eagles, I will run and not grow weary, I will walk and not be faint." Between my gasping breaths I uttered this as I flew toward the finish. Surely as I soared into third, the runner I passed heard me whispering my prayer. I finished in third, directly behind Marty Riley and Eric Adams. Maranatha came in 1, 2, 3.

Cross Country began again senior year and I ran throughout the summer preparing for camp. Camp is running 100 miles in 8 days in the steepest parts of the state. It is both my favorite and least favorite place on Earth. I remember running to the top of Paradise (a 14 mile run to one of the most beautiful settings I have ever seen) and looking back down the mountain at what I accomplished. It is unbelievable to me what running has done to my life. In the most literal sense, it has put my mountains underneath me. I am able to conquer what I set out to do. As we ran Paradise we sang hymns and smiled at the rock face in front of us as we put one leg in front of the other. It is a strange thing, learning how strong you really are. Before camp ended Coach McCown took all the seniors to Knapp's Cabin, an insignificant landmark on the side of the road. In the middle of the night we sat there and prayed for each other. We laid our hands on one another and asked God to be present in their lives and thanked Him for all He has done with the team.

In four years, with sweat, blood, tears, and countless pairs of shoes, I developed more than in the previous 13. I grew stronger. I was not only physically fit but mentally tough as well. Cross Country ended for me at League Finals in Craig Regional Park. As I crossed the finish line I felt free of the requirement to run at all times. However, I felt a great loss as well. I realized in that moment all I was leaving behind, all I must leave behind. I looked back over the past four years and saw how the race had gone. I began strong, taking that first mile hard, but suffering in the second mile, burdened with injury and a sense of hopelessness. But I persisted into the third mile and felt the strength course through my veins as I saw the finish. In the last sprint I was lifted up on wings like Eagles and I ran harder than I ever had before. I have finished my race.

I have always wondered what my impact on Cross Country would be, how my presence would affect MHS XC. And, in a sense, it did. But it was not my times or my running accomplishments that I know I am leaving behind. It is the relationships I developed and the pain I suffered with my brothers and sisters that will be remembered. But as time passes even that will be forgotten. The Great Effect, then, was not mine on the program, but the program on me. I have been changed for the better. I have been molded into a stronger person and have been wholly refined for the better. My impact on Cross Country will wash away in the tides of time, but I took with me a life changing experience. As the sun set on this stage in my life it rose in the life of another. And so it would continue, developing us runners for the better. I am a runner. I run.

And so I knelt and stared backwards as the last light illuminated this scene. And as time came to sweep away my presence for future runners I found that little silver button beneath my finger. The shutter opened and the tide washed right in.