I remember being chosen on my track team in the eighth grade to run the mile race. I'd always be the one of the few actually trying to run the whole distance in practices so I guess that's why I was chosen? Running a mile was a long distance to me then. My parents ran three to four miles nightly after work but I could never run with them the whole time. I'd always drop off early and head back to the house.
Before the race I was having anxiety with thoughts of, 'what if I can't finish it?', 'what if I faint and pass out on the track?' But the time came when the whistle blew and I was off. I was determined to finish the race eventhough it was apparent to me in around the second lap that I wasn't as conditioned as the forerunners. 'Just finish Austin and don't stop' was what ran through my head over and over as if I was my own physical drill sargeant. In the end I did finish without stopping and ahead of the other runner from my school, which was a motivating factor, for he was one of the more popular kids in the class but I was never impressed with anything he ever did. He did stuff like let a mucousy goober dangle from his mouth and then suck it back in and repeat, real gross, but that was what got him attention then. That was his trick/shtick.
I remember at one point my fellow team member trying to get me to slow down or even stop because he was going to. He was trying to get me to laugh and lose air, attempting to bring me back to his speed. I told myself not to listen to him and concentrate on saving air and to move past him. I wanted to do better, be better than he. Looking back on this I am thankful that I kept on. There are alot of those instances when I look back at myself and am glad that I see who I was then and recognize that I was aiming to do well, to be a good person. I was raised on very high moral standards. Good manners. For that I'm appreciative of my parent's. My parent's are still running after thirty years of marriage.
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I ran track in the eigth grade too. That's the only athletic thing I was actually ever involved in even though by the looks of my genetic make-up, I was born for sport like activities. I didn't do that well either, and was put in the leftover events which had no representatives from our school; a dash, a half mile sprint. I always finished, but when I got to the end, I was exhausted to the point of choking on my own dry heavings.
When I got into high school, I left sports to the conditioned atheletes and became an art chick, hippy type, started smoking pot and experimenting with LSD, attended many musical events. The drugs have far been left behind since then, but the empathy still exists, exudes, as well as my tastes for the arts.
I really don't like to run much, even when I'm in a hurry. It might be a shame how I don't mind being late for things, to most people, I'm sure.
There was a short period of time when I actually really enjoyed running, for running sake. During the process I would focus on my stepping and after a while be able to effortlessly glide, my breathing and movement were in unison and it was a form of zen exercise for my mind as much as my body.
I practice psychic running mostly these days.
It's no wonder your body resembles some human freight train machine.
that's funny you say that cause i have a tattoo of a locomotive along the interior my thigh.
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