Dedication The cross country team that made me come back for more struggles and hardships.
The gravel underneath me made clicking noises as if buttons were pressed near my ears. Minutes before, when the gun fired, cheers were heard from all sides as runners were off. As the crowd of racers begin to set at their own pace, I was running alone. It was easy to know when you were alone if your heavy breathing and sounds of pavements were your own only.
Hitting the soil, the gravel then the pavement once again, I realized the clicking sounds were little pieces of rocks stuck underneath my shoe. There wasn't any pain but it was slightly bothering my feet yet it helped me keep my speed the same till the end.
Although I question if I were last, it was my first XC race. Today, I run in the exact same course but I am now a sophomore, three years later. The sounds of clicking are not the little pieces of rocks stuck under my shoe, but the spikes that keep me up and is secretly my metronome. The other sounds around me are not my own either. I can hear the desperation for energy in breaths and sounds of the ground belong to many others telling me I'm not alone.
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