Delta-Personal Narrative

I had spent months training for those 20 minutes. I prepared for every possible thing that could have gone sour during those fleeting moments that would determine how my freshman season would end. If the start was too slow I would gradually speed up after mile one. If my hip injury worsened mid-race I would alter my stride to avoid pain. What about if I completely fell apart one mile in? I should have imagined what to do in this scenario, because it was the only one that actually happened. It was the regional meet in Delta. This was the fastest course in the state, as evidenced by the incredible times run there. This meet was the culmination of over six months of work, physical therapy, and weightlifting. So far throughout the season,

I did not want to face my team due to pure embarrassment . I was a tidal pool of emotions shifting back and forth between fear, anger, disappointment, and shame.
Worst of all was the dialogue in my own head.
You let your entire team down. You 'll never be an outstanding runner. On a good day you 're mediocre, on a day like today, you 're horrific.
That race, and the world-shattering heartbreak that followed, forever changed the way I saw running. I discovered that even hard work is not always invincible at the hands of fate. As soon as I scraped my sweaty hands into the dirt and pulled myself up to go face my team a startling realization occurred to me. This loss, this heart-shattering defeat, was the ultimate test. Would I let it pull me down, or would I struggle to my feet and come back even stronger?
After all, running must mean something to me if this failure hurt so tremendously, I thought.
As I limped back to the team camp, tears still streaming down my face, I made my decision right then and there.
This fight was not over, and I was going to return to that course a year later and prove to everyone, and myself, that I am more than just a mediocre one, I can be an outstanding