The Color Of Hunger

I miss….

• being considered an athlete.
• being considered not just an athlete, but a damn good one at that.
• the pre-game stretches.
• popping my left hip in just the right spot during those stretches.
• how flexible I used to be.
• discovering that hey, I actually do have an arm.
• zoning out to my music during all the long bus rides.
• the pressures of being the only senior in my event.
• the satisfaction I got beating my PR, even if it was only by a few inches.
• slacking off during practice by finding new body parts to tape every other day.
• the adrenaline I acquired warming up.
• finding something to get pissed off at and taking it out on my throws.
• cracking my knuckles before grabbing my stick.
• the little indent my red javelin had between the grip and the metal part.
• jogging from disc to jav to vault.
• Stralser yelling at me to jog faster.
• finding different excuses on why I shouldn’t high jump.
• Drew not buying my lame-ass excuses.
• the lean skinny build I used to have.
• pre-analyzing the competition.
• making fun of Medical Lake and how bad they sucked.
• the patience Leah and Coach B. had when I first learned how to throw discus.
• Crystal listing off all the reasons she shouldn’t be there and how much of a jerk Bob is.
• improving on the plant boxes, even though I despised them and didn’t understand why we used them so much.
• Gonzaga Prep’s weird but interesting turf.
• seeing fans actually enjoy watching me throw.
• having a purpose behind my day.
• how awesome State was.
• playing “Outburst” in the tent until my laptop ran out of battery.
• searching for an outlet to keep it going.
• falling asleep on the bus floor with Bruh and Sis on the trips back to Cheney.
• laughing at the idea of sleeping in the aisle of a school bus in the first place.
• how hungry I became after competing in a 10+ hour meet.
• eating at Miner’s.
• ditching Miner’s for the Starbucks and Wendy’s across the street and getting in trouble for it by almost every coach.
• chugging Monsters and devouring Power Bars ten minutes before showtime.
• how perfect my boots fit and how lightweight they were, even for my feet.
• meeting new people who shared the same strengths and weaknesses as I did.
• being told ‘good job today’ by a coach from another school I had never even seen before.
• all the different colors of all the different ribbons.
• laughing with Sis on how they should make a 9th place ribbon solely for Medical Lake.
• having homefield advantage.
• how involved Missel was.
• the anticipation between the jav landing and the marker person telling me how far it went.
• the muscle definition I used to have in my shoulders.
• going to bed the night before and having nothing except the meet on my mind.
• waking up to get ready and realizing it’s still dark out.
• putting on my spirit bands and black spandex for good luck after a 45 minute shower.
• the smell of rain mixed with Under Armour.
• the sound my spikes made walking on the pavement.
• Coach Hisaw’s amazing brownies.
• being a part of the Junior Olympics in Wilamette, Oregon.
• how the louder the locker room got, the closer it was to the start of the meet.
• the bounce I had in my step.
• beating West Valley by almost twice as many points as we had.
• the thrower’s relays.
• throwing on Eastern Washington University’s field.
• movie nights after a good hard day of practice, every Thursday at Cody’s house.
• everybody rushing to the bathrooms after arriving at the C-towns (Clarkston + Colville).
• piggyback rides to and from the bus.
• goofing off with Lex and turning our javelins into fishing poles with stray litter we’d find on the track.
• Hisaw getting angry at us for it, trying his hardest to keep a straight face.
• the pole vault crew.
• the amount of encouragement I got from them.
• being involved in the younger javelin throwers’ success.
• doing homework at the meet with fellow athletes as an excellent source of help.
• how good that medal felt around my neck.
• all the pride that came with that medal.
• getting distracted by all the amazingly attractive pole vaulters and their amazingly attractive bodies.
• being able to bench two-thirds of my weight.
• running that pre-game lap, sometimes in slippers, sometimes in flip-flops.
• how huge Pasco’s meet was.
• the sense of belonging I got when throwing there.
• using Nike headbands to tie up my hair.
• waking up early for Saturday morning practices.
• learning from my mistakes, on and off the field.
• washing away my nerves with poise and self confidence.
• pretending to pole vault with my javelin.
• how pumped up I got over Stralser’s mini motivational speeches.
• the rush of excitement having my name read off the loudspeaker.
• never understanding how the announcer always managed to butcher my name.
• being the last one off the field at practices.
• ringing the victory bell the day after the meet.
• admitting proudly that yes, I do love track and field more than softball.