directions_run Run • Aug. 29, 2024, 3:49 a.m.

A scrumptious night walk. Taking some time and space to consider how I want to move forward. The same voices that you boys felt today racing — which told you to stop and to give up — I feel them today too. If I wasn’t injured, if I could show up to practice everyday and run with the team, that would be so much easier than the path set out in front of me. If I choose to embark on this path of recovery, I get the *shot* to compete near the end of the season. And the voices of laziness are saying: is it even worth it? What if I won’t be able to compete? What if I re-injure myself and guarantee that I’m out for the whole season? When you’re racing, your concrete goal is to complete the race and the voices of laziness are your immediate obstacle. But I’m not in a race. I won’t be for a while. And these voices aren’t as easy to dismiss. What if they’re just trying to save my time? Stepping outside of running for a second: Time is finite and commitment is my currency. Do I want to be committed to a sport even if I can’t even reap its rewards? But racing is not the only reward of being apart of cross country. If I think back on my running life in high school, what made it special? It’s never been about races. It’s always been about friendship, and even brotherhood. Racing only mattered because of the bonds built on running. So, the commitment is still worthwhile because I still have so much that I love about the sport. I’m not gonna have the personal satisfaction of racing. But this has become so much more than that. I’m going to commit to cross training because I still feel deeply connected to the team. Not because I enjoy it or because it’s easy, but because it is simply my duty.