The contrast

IMG_7265

I’m the contrast.

When in high school I ran away. All the way to Houston, TX. Not really.
I went to Houston for high school, and was so fed up with running from my elementary school days in Hungary – I liked racing though, only 800m, you die in the end, but at least it was over under 2:15 or less – I decided to take dance and be a pompom girl instead.
Took about two days for coach Z to discover and take me to the field immediately. Cross country season just began, and I got my legal registration to run in a speeded up process.
Another two days later I raced once again, in a totally different environment. USA. I became a well-known figure in no days. Winning race after race, counting in miles, had no idea how much I was running. But I pushed. I scored the quaterback too. Team won regionals, we made it to nationals where we sucked, weather was awful. I met Carl Lewis. Was in the papers, first in the country club weeklies, than made it to Houston something, can’t remember.
When CC was over I immediately started track season. One miler, half mile/800 and even ran in the relay team of 4×200. My quaterback was in the team too. We travelled in school buses holding hands. We both received MVP awards end of both seasons.
Before ever single race, he sang me: you can do it, you can do it, you can make it Cinderella.

When coming back to Hungary, I was so proud of my results I went back to the club I ran with.
Won nationals in cross country, made it to the Hungarian Junior team.
Still hated practice, intervalls, the ride to and back from practice, though I loved the crew. Wanted to stay at running but I quit. Decision made on a blink.

Today. I’m the contrast.
Feeling low I need to run.
Feeling high I need to run.
Tired, unstopabble I need to run.
Feeling ugly, must go for a run.

Today I felt low and ugly and sad and cried I needed a run.
Windpower doubted my will, but I was way to down not to run. I didn’t care.
And I ran.

I’m the contrast.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s