Very early on, I would say by age 6. My grandmother (by whom I was raised) immersed me in extracurricular activities such as Girl Scouts, Y soccer, and the arts. Over the next couple of years my home life went through dramatic changes and being the only child left at home I began to withdraw from overtly social activities. By age 9, I reluctantly kept up Girl Scouts (with your grandmother the troop leader, kind of hard not to) of which ultimately lead to a very fulfilling solo love of everything Equestrian, but soccer was pushed aside and art class became art in my bedroom.
School was easy, perhaps a little too easy and so it was that my peer group went through its first metamorphism. Mates since Kindergarten lost their appeal, for who knew why we befriended one another to begin with, perhaps we liked one another’s ribbons and curls? Kids who had been there all along whom I’ld never noticed began popping out of the wood work…the creatively intelligent, whom come to find out, found themselves happier alone than in a ridiculous crowd of people with nothing to speak of. It was at this time I became aware that our school offered Track & Field as a sport…to girls.
One of my newly acquired girl friends appealed exponentially to my sensibilities…this girl, La La, became my 1st and last running partner. Together we signed up for track. While my talents continually won 1st in short distance running such as the 50 and 100yd dash, La La consistently won 1st in long distance runs. In our combined efforts we stole every relay race for the next 3 years. Those years, were unquestionably the most self-gratifying I have to date. What La La and I accomplished as a team was one feeling, but the pure bliss I experienced when running, just me, is incomparable. Running was my release,,,it was a pure rush of letting go all that I held inside. Confrontation is not my nature, so it was that running was my saviour.
I can feel the sizzling swollen asphalt on my fingertips and the unparalleled breeze of a Midwestern Spring whirling about my polyester shell. I vividly remember my grandmother taking me to the mom and pop sports shop to get my first track shoes, red with white swooshes (not the Nike kind), where all the siblings before me had been fitted for theirs…yes, running is in my blood.
Tragedy struck the Spring of my 13th year. During a practice run in the school bus loop an older boy (school track star) challenged me to a race. I accepted and won, hands down. Raced back to sprint runs, always out to beat my last time. Just as I came to full speed the boy I had beat jumped out and stopped like an iron scarecrow right in my path. Unable to stop I made a hard swerve to the left, but had to crank fast back to the right so as to miss hitting my running partner. I have blocked out the sound and the physical pain, but nothing has ever ever been the same since that very moment.
The Orthopedic surgeon was unable to perform a specific surgery to fix the torn cruciate ligament for I was too young or not quite finished growing, I should say. Necessary draining of fluids from the knee and the cleaning out of torn meniscus kept me in and out of office visits until a determined date for which the major surgery would take place.
While I missed that spring’s meet, I began mentally preparing for the next year…had the surgery 8 months later in December and began physically training for the Spring meet in February. There I was, having completed the 50yd dash and in full on 100yd dash speed, at the lead of the pack, something snapped in my knee and I, with all of the diligence and pride I could muster slowed enough to feel the insane rush of five people pass me at top speed. That was the last time I would run track. After four surgeries, my doctor advised against ever running again, much less competitively.
A deluge of other equally debilitating events took place that very same year, and while La La and I remained friends, even went on to steal the show in Drama/Debate meets throughout Jr. High and High School, my friends and activities went through their next phase, one leading to a path of self loathing,but that is another story.
Skipping through adolescence and the unlikely marriage that ended in divorce, this story picks up just a few months ago when a friend shared Traxee with me. With the support and knowledge I have found in this very diversified group of like-minded women I have begun running again. Building up miles, while a goal, is second to the sheer nirvana I feel when pushing MY SELF down the road. In conjunction with my life making considerable leaps and bounds, I can attribute a great sense of pride to the fact that I can run again.
I thank B.Moore for her inspirational stories and timely advice. I thank the entire Traxee community for creating a space in the universe dedicated to women running.
