Mind over Matter

I am a cross country runner, this is a descriptive essay of a 3.5 mile run in Arizona heat.

Anxiety is the only emotion I feel, a gut wrenching feeling nestles into my stomach and makes itself at home. . I don’t have room in my being to take anything else in. It’s as if everything about me is anxious. My name: Anxious. My occupation: Being anxious. My hobbies: anxiety.  Every fiber in my body screamed, as a droplet of sweat trailed down the side of my cheek. I looked up into the bright sunlight, leaving a heavy blanket of warmth over the Earth. Placing my shoes at the starting line, I attempted to maintain focus. The race official is going through the basic procedure: explain rules, check for jewelry, take names, all the while displaying a bored expression.

My heart quickens, I can see him getting ready, setting up the starting gun. It’s as if the gun controls my heart rate, it thunders inside my chest at the very sight of it. He takes 4 easy steps toward our side by side line, my body accelerates, everything speeds up, and a nervous stomach flips inside me. I absentmindedly fiddle with my bracelet nervously.

“Good luck” the girl next to me says, but I can see the passion in her eyes.

Her goal is to beat me, I am aware that her goal was to beat everyone, and I was unsure of the challenge that was to come.

 

 

BANG! The defining shot begins the race. The noise is distant in my memory, because I’m finally in motion. The only part of me, is me in motion. With each stride my anxiety flutters away. Pace, I thought warily, and I calmed myself. I can barely breathe as excitement is injected into my veins, and adrenaline makes me feel like a small child on a sugar rush.  Jitters run up my unsteady legs, but as soon as feel the burn of competition, the nervous feeling floats away. I know how to do this; I chanted in my head, I’ve spent months preparing myself. But the weather and this course was an all-new experience, hot, dry, and insane. The desert has come to challenge me. Others may see it as a punishment, subduing my body to the harsh terrains, but when I visualize the finish line that’s all that matters. My skin was already drenched in slick perspiration, but I continue on. I imagine little puddles of water evaporating off me, my body felt like water, no form, just a wiggling substance that flows.

 

“Wait” I thought “Pay attention, concentrate moving your legs”

 

But that was easier said than done, as each minute passed, a ton was added to my feet, and I used my strength to pull them foreword.  I won’t let go of this moment, where I can shine brighter than the Arizona sun.

 

I look on the sideline, my coach is telling me to run. Run? What have I been doing all this time? He was just a blur now in the background. With each tread of my feet, it echoes in my thoughts. My legs hurt; a mile came and gone. A mile that seemed to have lasted forever. I’m pumping my arms in the fashion of a champion and my breath comes in a fast rhythm. My thoughts drift, and it starts to sabotage my ability. I can’t do this, I have to stop, and my inner conscious ridicules me. It’s a fierce battle of mind vs. matter. But I will not let myself be deterred, I press on.

 

I look behind me, a big mistake. There goes 3 seconds of my time. There is a girl that’s struggling to reach me. I recognized her, the one with the fiery eyes. Panic strikes me as she speeds up. My body jolts as if someone has shocked me. Her coach is shouting in the background for her to stride, I follow the command instead. I don’t slow down until I can no longer hear the padding of her steps. My legs feel the pressure; each step sends a tinge up to my hips. My breath is like a stutter, repeating itself in a monotone pattern, a dull reminder of my pain. I was told about endorphins being released in your brain as you run; I imagine them swimming through my blood stream as these thoughts numb the tightening of my muscles.

I approach the two mile mark, another mile that lasted another eternity. I’m a machine, on auto run. I try not to think, to become a blank sheet. The sun gives of rays of undeniable heat. Feeling the urge to experiment, I push my feet off the dried earth, and it repels me forward over a prickly desert plant. The obstacles in the course are nothing as I tiptoe around them. The exploding feeling in my chest overpowers the soreness in my calves. My heart is trying to escape me, pounding in my chest, screaming for relief from the torture.

Now I’m gasping, not seeming to obtain the oxygen I need. My chest is burning. The girl behind me is catching up, I can hear her every movement. Through those trees, up the hill, and there’s my goal, the awaiting finish line, I set my eyes to it in a determined demeanor.

I start sprinting, my muscles screamed in protest. I’m cramping everywhere, but I can’t let it get to me. My state of mind is everything as I move my legs faster and faster. I’m there; I have only a small distance. The girl behind me senses my moment of steadfast acceleration, and sprints alongside me. Realizing how driven she was, I got shaken. I couldn’t seem to move fast enough, and she wanted this. But so did I. In a spur of the moment decision, I pushed down on my feet and catapulted myself foreword. And my feet stepped over the finish line.

I experienced a pure instant of triumph when I slowed to a stop. I made it, my body drooped, and my limbs quit. I sat there, catching my breath, in complete bliss. I did it, I’m the best. Nobody surpassed me. I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned against a tree. All the hard work made me feel a million years old. But I had done it. I was the gold medalist. I ripped off my number, 155; I’d make it my lucky number from now on. I saw the official running towards me, a stern expression on his face.

“Hey you, number 155, disqualified, you have jewelry on”

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar problems, it hasn't been looked over aside from anyone but myself.