Some Things Never Change (and Some Things Do)

Last Saturday morning I arrived at my old high school track around 7:30 am. It was my high school cross country Alumni Run, an annual tradition in which I had not participated since it was a required event for me and my teammates. Every year I receive a notice in the mail inviting me to participate and asking for a donation, and although I usually happily donate, I never attend. This year, I happen to be in town during the Run and decided to revisit old memories.

Only three of my teammates were there as alumni participants, and we all lined up on the start line behind the mass of student runners for the short two-mile event. We chatted and cut up just like old times – only this time, most of us are wives, and a few of us are mothers. Still, as we toed up to the line and waited for the starting cannon to fire, I felt like a nervous high school athlete, eager to impress my coach and to keep up with my talented friends.

The cannon fired and we all jumped… then, sprinted off from the start. These girls lied about what sort of shape they are in! I thought. I prayed that sanity would creep back in and the pace would slow. It did, thankfully, but I still felt good. I stayed on the shoulder of a girl, now a wife and mother, who during our day held the school record in the two-mile distance. We chatted, but mostly we ran. We scampered down and up through muddy ditches. We hugged the fence by the baseball field. (Remember speeding up past the boys as they practiced?) I started to feel the old familiar burn in the pit of my stomach somewhere around the 2.5 mile mark.

I passed two student runners, struggling with their breathing and their mental toughness. They still don’t know how much they really have in them, I thought. I felt almost as if I was looking back in time at myself. If I only knew myself then like I know myself now, I thought. I passed on the outside with a word of encouragement.

Finally, the sprint to the finish. I lengthened my stride and finished with a slightly negative split. Afterwards, my old high school coach congratulated me on a good race… in front of everyone. I was on cloud nine.

Funny how some things never change.