The Color Of Hunger

Posts Tagged ‘practice

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.

iplaytrack1224@hotmail.com

I am a student of life. 23 years young. I observe. I experience. I learn. I am driven by creativity. And music. Good music. Indie and electronic. I love sensory details. Life is crazy. But meant for living. I have no regrets in mine. Only lessons. =]
December 2014
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