Personal Narrative-Paid Race

Sports were never my forte. I tried everything, from soccer to softball, with no luck being “good” by my definition or anyone else's.
Then I found my happy place: track. Sure, I wasn't the best on the team but, for once, I was not the worst. I stuck with it, I developed as a runner, and I learned to use running as an outlet for all the hectic ups-and-downs of life.
Running was something I could do wherever and whenever I wanted to. The benefits are endless because I stay in shape and it keeps me sane.
During my sophomore year of spring track, running ceased to feel that way. I was already devastated that day because we lost a duel meet at our home track to our rivals the day before. Collectively, the distance group, made up of six girls competing in three events, scored a grand total of one point for the team. The worst part was that none of us were even close to scoring. The girls on the other team

I was really aiming for the time in the one-mile race because I felt I could handle the time, or at least put all of my effort into it. The problem was that we were racing against the worst team in our division at that meet, and they had only one distance girl on the whole team and if I was to pace off of her, I would have ran two full minutes slower than usual; therefore, I had no one to keep up with but my teammates and myself. The whole team was excited for an easy win that day, but I was more nervous than a cat in a dog park. I put my spikes on, stepped on the line, and came in first place, beating all of my teammates as well as the opposing team’s runner. I felt amazing once I crossed the line because I knew it was a personal record for me. It was a personal record, but only by three seconds. I could not be happy with that. Even though I ran better than I ever had against minimal completion, and even though I put in more effort in that week than I had all season, I was disappointed in