The pounding in my ears began. All I
could really hear was my gasping breaths and redundant heart beat. Over and
over my feet pounded the ground, thud thud, they kept a steady pace. The sun had
a dull feeling, shining down on my shoulders and necks, sitting behind a thin
layer of clouds. Even the grass seemed to mock me, not giving a full bounce and
making me push just that much harder. I pulled myself together and listened for
the hum. The hum always arrived after the second mile and clams me down. It was
not one singular sound, but a multitude of joining beats, my feet, my heart,
the cracking leaves, the passing cars, my swishing ponytail, and the staggered breathing
of my lungs... They all come together in waves, forming a pulsating hum in my
ears, the hum of endurance. Listening to this unique sound, I dig into my
reserve tank of strength and push on.
My feet hit the pavement with a sure
thud. The tip of my pony tail beats in the air landing on my neck with a light
smack. I’m running along the riverbed trail, so a light waft of stale water
remains in the air around me. A swishing rhythm comes from my shorts passing
with each stride. The recurring in hale
and exhale of my lungs becomes surer with each step I take. This is what I have
trained for. This is my place in the world at this moment in time. I do not claim perfection, but I wear the
honor of perseverance. I am a fighter, a survivor. I am a cross country runner.
