If we're getting technical, my first cross country race ever was when I was 12 years old. It was a modified middle school race that was a little over a mile, and I'm pretty sure I had to walk at one point. My first real, legit cross country race was 7 years ago in my freshman year of high school. That's when this journey really began.
For years I've always said I hated cross country. Track was my preferred sport, but cross country was the base. There was no written rule but it was just an understanding that if you were a runner, you did both.
What I didn't expect was to fall so deeply in love with cross country. It's a sport that is so much more than just a race through some grass. It's long runs on Sundays, it's mile repeats on an open field, it's hill workouts on some back roads. And it's also pasta parties with your entire team, it's speeches your coach gives you for endless hours, it's bus rides to meets across the state.
Cross country is about strategy. Analyzing every mile and every thousand split you're supposed to hit. Knowing exactly who your competition is and where they will finish. Sprinting down the finishing stretch because your team needs those two points, those two bodies in front of you.
Cross country is about hard work. Dedicating your entire summer to long, steamy runs. Waking up every morning to run before the sun. Sticking out a hard workout even though your legs are bricks that weight a thousand pounds.
Cross country is about heart. Fighting for every single second from when the gun goes off to when you cross the finish line. Crying tears of joy when you run a personal best time. Screaming until you don't have a voice while cheering for your teammates.
Yesterday, I ran my last cross country race ever. Yesterday, I said goodbye to all of this. Goodbye to the sport that has broken my heart, but also given me everything. Goodbye cross country, time for track.
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