MIAA Cross-Country Conference Championships 2007 (My Freshman Year at SMC)...A Rainy and AWESOME Run!!!
Omishto's connection with nature in the novel Power caused me to reflect on some of my own experiences with nature. I ran cross-country and track all throughout high school (I was also on the Saint Mary's cross-country team last year, but I had to sit out this season due to injury...I am hoping to return to competing next season). Running has always been a major stress-reliever for me, but it also helps me feel connected to nature (one reason that I detest running on treadmills). I have always felt particularly connected to my high school cross-country course, which includes a lot of trails and wooded areas, as well as a very STEEP and infamous hill that has been christened "Agony" (I know we have been discussing analyzing names in order to uncover their significance, but I think this one speaks for itself). Reading about Omishto's experience in the storm as well as some of her amazing imagery and personification of nature compelled me to compose the following prose piece about one of the semi-state cross-country meets that I ran in high school, which was held on our home course at New Prairie High School on a particularly cold and very rainy Saturday morning.
Frigid and penetrating, the icy raindrops cascade down my spine as my toes squishes and squirms through the muck to find its pace along the newly-smeared line of white paint. The crack of the starting gun reverberates through my skull as my nearly-numb feet struggle to push off of the soggy ground and begin navigating the swamp that is left of the course. Sheets of rain create a curtain of hazy gray. My eyes squint and catch glimpses of images that are blurred by the rain and my speed: a fallen orange cone, collecting rainwater; a familiar face, sheltered under a midnight black umbrella, shouting incoherent words of encouragement against the wind's deafening war; and, finally, the sight that evokes that peculiar mixture of dread and adrenaline: Agony.
Pulsating with veins of rainwater, she towers over me: strong, intimidating, seemingly alive, and needing to be conquered. The silver points of my running spikes mercilessly stab her as I begin my ascent. A sudden flush of heat rises to my cheeks, contrasting with the brisk coolness of the unrelenting raindrops. Perspiration steadily trickles from my forehead, stinging my eyes. The scents of sweat and this morning's shampoo invade my nostrils, while my taste buds cringe from a mixture of kicked-up mud and regurgitated Lucky Charms. My pumping arms rub against my cotton uniform, and the friction creates a fire along the inside of my inner biceps. I reach the top of my mountainous foe, my legs cramping from the effort but relieved that she's behind me now.
With the finish line in sight, I sprint through tunnel of brightly multicolored flags. The rains stabs at my face like thousands of little needles, and pinpricks cause me to wonder if Mother Nature has taken up acupuncture. The crowd screams, fueling the lactic acid surging through my muscles. My legs stride out, hungry for the white line ahead of me that will provide them with relief. And then I'm done, and too tired to feel anything anymore.
