Did Not Finish

My blog the other day brought back memories of another Cross Country race in high school.

I was part way through my sophomore year, my first year of high school and as a runner. Things were going well. I'd lost 20 lbs of fat and gained it back as muscle. The real races, against runners from other schools were just starting. It was at a home meet, that this story happens.

The race started like normal. I was as excited as ever to run. Maybe even more so. The signal was given and a few dozen teenagers took off. It felt good, and there was a lot of adrenaline in my veins for that first bit. I was on a familiar course with new opponents to gauge myself against.

By the time I was in the second mile of the 3.2, the adrenaline was gone, and I was left running on my own strength and determination. But I was holding strong. I knew I could do it. I'd done it before, afterall.

I started into the third mile and I was hurting. It was hard. I was winded and my side hurt and my legs were sore. It was too hard. Slowly, I convinced myself that something must be wrong. It shouldn't hurt this much.

Then I stopped.

I lay panting in the grass while other runners passed me by. A few of my teammates voiced concern for me. I waved them on. After a few minutes I got up and walked back to the starting line.

I got back and my coach immediately let into me. He didn't yell, but I could tell he was disappointed. I made my excuses and continued on the day.

The next day in school, I went into the coaches office and saw the big poster-board he'd made to track our times and such. Next to my name, in black sharpie, were the letters "DNF."

I was ashamed. I'd seen those letters before, by the names of some of my teammates, but not by mine. Did not finish. It was the mark of failure.

I ran for two years, the mile and 2 mile in Track, and the 5k in Cross Country. Never again did the letters DNF appear by my name.

I had another teammate whose drive amazed me. His name was Mike. One time, at a large invitational, meaning there were several schools and hundreds of runners, he placed very highly in his race. Despite sharp pain in his leg, he ran. Only after the race did we discover that his leg was broken. He had a stress fracture that ran from the top of his Tibia to the bottom.

He ran 3.2 miles on a broken leg.

That, my friends, is determination. We should be just at strong.