Posts Tagged ‘
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.
track and field