Last night was my last Cross Country meet. We ran at Nature Park Golf Course at 11:00pm and followed a huge trail of glow-sticks. I was nervous. My shin splits are still on the mend and I wasn't sure if I'd be able to beat my time, or if I could somehow in this race prove to myself that I can do the unbeatable. I felt like it was my last chance. An ultimatum. I dunno what it was. But I really felt like I was going to puke from anxiety. I've struggled with my health my entire life. It's always been a challenge for me. I've had bitterness and resentment towards exercise and eating right because of the pressure I felt from society to be perfect. But hey, I was a ten year old girl. All ten year old girls are awkward and chubby. But it kinda stuck with me. I've never quite gotten over that mentality. Even though I wanted to do and be my best, it was so hard for me to lay aside my pride, to endure physical pain, to tell my mom she was right, to admit exercise was important and that I wasn't good at it. I'm not sure exactly why I'm writing about this because it's sort of lame and pretty personal. But, I am proud of myself. Not in a vain sort of way. But I accomplished something I hate. I was dedicated. I challenged myself. I lost sleep. I cried. I woke up early. I passed out. I iced my leg every night before bed. I woke up aching and sore almost every day. I ran in a hailstorm and in the beating sun. I sacrificed social life or school work sometimes. I committed myself to a team that was literally miles more advanced than I was. And you know what? I pulled through. I conquered. I am a new woman. I CAN DO HARD THINGS.
I have fought a good fight.
I have finished my course.
I have kept the faith.
Oh, and...
