My first memory of running is of feeling carefree. My family moved from France when I was in first grade, and we spoke no English. As the oldest of four kids, I did feel some of the stresses of assimilation. I was always fast and competitive, and recess tag required barely any new words. Everyone understands the language of the chase; predator and prey is one of our most intuitive and simplest actions, especially as it is translated to children’s games. My recess prowess is how I made the friends that helped guide me through my new American life.
My second memory of running is of feeling free, of flying, of being in tune with the runners who came before me. In third grade, our class ran a giant grass loop during PE. At the time my mama insisted that I wear girly sundresses to school, and I had these blood red leather gladiator sandals on my feet. They made me feel like I was one of the Spartan warriors we learned about in school, especially when I was fighting to be the first to finish the loop. I took great pride in crushing all my male classmates egos and soaring through the grass. I remember feeling so powerful and so very much alive.
Running for me was a game of pretend - transporting me to any time in history or transforming me into any character. At recess we often played Chase the Leprechaun: I was always the leprechaun and I always imagined that the role came with wit, cleverness, camouflage, and lightning speed.
By middle school my teachers had identified me as a running talent; I was too competitive and uncool to not try too hard in PE class. But, I resisted accepting my fate. Running was still my fun pretend game and I wasn’t ready to transform it into a something serious. I wanted to do other things, like dance and volleyball and basketball and basically any other activity that seemed like pure joy. I spent hours at ballet class. Old home videos highlight that while I was definitely athletic, I was neither graceful nor patient. It was to my ballet teacher's great relief that I quit to focus on sports. My middle school was known for having a PE staff invested in its track program. It was rare that I showed up to practice, but their enthusiasm and belief in me got me to the starting lines. And honestly, who doesn’t find winning addictive? And who doesn’t enjoy feeling like a hero at the end of a meet? I raced every relay and did most of the sprint, run, and jump disciplines, fully taking advantage of young endless energy. My only arch-nemesis was cross country, but unfortunately I was pretty good at it. I do remember feeling extreme apprehension and throwing up after most races - a trend that has defined even my contemporary relationship with cross country.
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