Running Down the Dream

Chapter One

"Run 'em down, Ryan! Run 'em down!" My dad's voice calls. I hear him above the rest of the crowd's chatter and other enthusiastic parents' yells for their children. I pump my arms faster and sprint as fast as I can across the finish line. I finish in first, breathing heavily, and probably making a ridiculous face while doing do. Sweat beads on my forehead and drips down my face. I look at all the other boys on the track as they cross the finish line after me, sweating and breathing equally as hard. I look up at my dad.

And then I wake up. I sit bolt upright in bed before sinking back into my sheets again. I glance at my alarm clock and see that it's five in the morning. I look up at my ceiling, which is dark except for the slivers of light from the first rays of the morning sun peeking through from behind my blinds.

It's been a while since I dreamed about my dad. I used to dream about him every night after he died when I was in sixth grade. Though since I've been in high school, dreams about him have been increasingly rare. I'm starting senior year now, and through I dream of him less, by no means have I forgotten him. 

I still remember the way that he laughed and the way his eyes would always twinkle and radiate his pride for me. The way he cheered for me at track and cross country meets. The way he cheered, "Run 'em down, Ryan!" 

I suppose I just don't dream as much anymore. Perhaps its the stress of high school, and the final push to get colleges to notice me. The final push to get the University of Oregon to notice me, specifically. I may not dream as much when I sleep, but I certainly have a dream that I carry with me every waking moment. I want to run for the best running college in the country: the University of Oregon. 

I sigh and realize that there is no way that I can go back to sleep now, so I get out of bed and change into some running shorts and a singlet. I tie my sneakers, and before I head out the door, I write a note to my mom explaining that I've gone for a run. 

As soon as my shoes hit the pavement outside our house, I feel instantly more alive. As my feet pound the pavement in the familiar route around my neighborhood, I think more about my dad. I miss him so much, and more than anything, I wish that he could see me now. I've come a long way from that little middle schooler who randomly signed up for the track season. I wish he could see how successful I am now, and I wish he could have seen me truly fall in love and dedicate my life to this sport. I wish he could have seen me last year when I got third at the state cross country meet and set a new school record in the 5K. I wish he could see me when I hopefully sign to run at Oregon soon. 

Running in the morning is one of my favorite things to do. I understand that most kids wouldn't find the slightest bit of joy from waking up at the crack of dawn to go run, but I love it. I get the opportunity to clear my head and really have the time to myself that I need. Morning runs are especially nice because there's less of a chance to die of heatstroke from the Floridian sun. The sun is usually just coming up, and there's still that salty breeze in the air that ensures a cool temperature. At practices, I'm a lot more focussed, as I have pace and workouts to really concentrate on. At practices, I put my mind on racing and Oregon. Always Oregon. 

I see the street coming up that indicates that I've finished my quick three mile loop around the neighborhood. I see the sun really starting to come up on the horizon, and I can't help but smile. I feel like it's a sign from the universe that only bright things lie ahead of me.