The very beginning

The seeds have sprouted! I didn't believe it myself when my mother told me to go out and check my garden, but low and behold there were tiny green sprouts in the exact rows I'd planted poking through the earth. They're just beginning on their precarious journey into the world and I know that when the day comes that I'm steaming my home grown carrots, I'll look back on this humble beginning and smile. It may seem excessively cheesy, but this small-scale representation of life is similar to running. They say that running is the best metaphor for life because you get out of it what you put into it, but I think it's much deeper than that. There are aspects of running that symbolize every part of life, and I'm going to take a moment to recount the beginning of my running and the lessons it mirrors in life. I began running one hot, dry day in Phoenix. We were on spring break as a family, reclining at the pool and hiking up desert mountains. Despite the fact that I'd been a dedicated theater member for three years, I was peer pressured into jointing track as well. Despite the relatively small time commitment of both activities and the fact that I was little more than a chorus member in the musical, the director told me I had to choose which was more important. Needless to say, I switched my allegiance to track, taking a gamble that it would be more fun, successful, and accommodating than the theater. As the first day of practice approached, my sister kept nagging me to get my basic stamina to the point where I could run two consecutive miles. My silent response was to think fat chance, but when I realized that I would be expected to actually run during practice, I consciously put off "getting in shape" hoping that lacing up my newbie tennis shoes and hitting the pavement would become more attractive. It didn't. Thus, on one of the last days of my vacation, I tentatively asked my mother to take me running. I can honestly say this was one of this biggest achievements of my life. Never having sustained an increase in heart rate for more than about five minutes, it took guts just to appeal to a dedicated runner to take me with her. Furthermore, when I felt ready to give up halfway through my almost twenty minute slog, I learned my first lesson in willpower. Feeling tired doesn't mean you give up. Fast forward three months to the end of summer. I had been dutifully running throughout the summer, not just because of dedication, but also because I genuinely liked the feel. There is a perception one gets from running that is unique; a part of everything in the landscape, ceaseless movement forward nonetheless kept me apart and able to observe the whole without filter. The beautiful exterior and the raw back streets, pristine landscapes and cramped cities, everything was open for exploration after I stepped into my running shoes. With the start of school, though, I was sad to lose this opportunity and unable to hop back into theater life. That's when my dad mentioned cross country. I had never heard of this sport where girls run over "hill and dale" but they sounded like exactly what I was looking for. The problem? I wasn't fast. My dad called the coach, much to my chagrin, but the resounding response was that the team welcomes all runners of any level, unlike almost every other sport out there. I signed up and reported to practice. From there, I made new friends. I was pushed so far out of my comfort zome of books, play practice, and math that I was forced to adapt to my environment and make it fun, which really wasn't difficult. At the end of the season, i was wanting more. ER pushed me into trying Nordic. The Nordic season cinched my affinity to the silent sports. Finally, I was seeing some tangible success and not just getting participation points. Since those first three seasons, it has been a whirl of practices, races, times, and community. It was a great twist of fate that pushed me into that first season, and I see the unpredictable opportunities of life reflected in the crazy journey vie taken to become a runner.