I Swore I Wouldn't. (February 2011)

This love-hate affair had been going on since seventh grade

When I first stepped foot onto that oval shaped piece of hell

After all that time, crying, wishing, regretting, and failing

I swore that if I ever manned up and told my father no,

I wouldn’t miss a thing.

After years of putting myself out there

On that track and in the middle of that open field,

After trying so hard but just not physically being capable to do it,

Or maybe I wasn’t mentally able to allow myself to go faster…

These words are what I clench back with my teeth.

I miss the early morning workouts that sent me straight to bed later on

I miss the relief of finding out we weren’t going to have a hard day, instead, yoga

I miss being able to brag about how hard my workout was the day before

I miss rolling out of bed, grabbing my bag and driving myself to school at 5:30,

Ready to fall back asleep on the bus ride to our meet

I miss being the sloth of the team, sleeping any chance I got, in any spot

I miss the butterfly feeling I got before the gun went off

I miss how exhausted I would be halfway through my race

I miss planning where and when I would purposely fall down and hurt myself

Even though it never really came to that

I miss the cheering of the team collectively as each runner ran by

I miss the shouts of numbers and praises telling me to go faster, faster!

I miss the rush of adrenalin that would pump through as the finish line got closer

I miss finishing, and thinking of how much harder I could have gone, but didn’t

Every race would end in feelings of failure, but they really weren’t

I miss playing around with my friends when we were all finished with our competitions

I miss yelling at my teammates to keep it up! And reassuring them that they could do it!

I miss being not good at competing, and being put in the slower groups during practices

I miss feeling embarrassed as the other teams watched us run, and me, falling behind

I miss how we would all go faster when there were boys around, no matter what

I miss my coach’s pep talks that were insightful for real life too, not just for running

I miss being able to vent on runs, through talking and the pounding of my feet

I miss sharing with everyone I hated running and practice and meets and being there

I miss telling everyone that my dad made me run and that’s why I was there

Even though I could have stopped myself if I actually, truly wanted to

It’s not that I miss the sport or the people right now

It’s that I miss the way it was when we all first started

When all of my friends were with me

But slowly, one by one, they started peeling away

Splitting off into their own directions, deciding to move on

I was the leftovers. I did not matter. No one cared.

And that’s when I started not to miss these things anymore.

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