Cross Country Sprint: A Cautionary Tale

When I first started track my freshman year of high school, it wasn't hard for me to figure out what I wanted to do. Our track team was such that anyone who wanted to be a part of it could be, so it's not like I had to have a talent and try out with it. It was the one sport in which truly everyone could participate, and no one warmed the bench. I first started with long jump. It turns out that the more I did it the worse I got at it. So that was out. The other field events seemed kind of boring and un-glamorous (I mean, how many times, besides the olympics, does a crowd in the bleachers roar and cheer for a shot-put?). The idea of running around the track a zillion times was not appealing, so sprinting seemed to be the natural choice. So you run flat out for a hundred, two-hundred meters, and that's it. Piece of cake. I was mediocre at sprinting. But that's not really the point. The track coach, Mr. Smith, apparently thought I had something going, and he asked me to be on the cross country team. Since I was enjoying the running enough, I went for it. I ended up being pretty good. But that's not really the point either. The end result was that that spring I decided to do long distance in track rather than sprinting. The following year I was asked to do the 400. THAT's the point. It's the longest sprint ever. It's like sprinting long distance. I HATED it while I was running. Afterwards, I kind of liked it. There's this feeling your body gets after you work hard, and that feeling of air rushing into your lungs--I can't really describe it, but it's wonderful. Like you could do anything. And the roaring crowd didn't hurt. Not that I could forget the painful hell of actually running it--but it was good enough that, like a dog that returns to its own vomit, I kept doing it. Partly for that adreneline high, partly because all the popular girls were in the relay with me, which therefore made me popular (at least that was my theory).

This last month has felt a lot like that 400 meter race, with some differences. Instead of the pain and exhaustion while running and the exhileration after, it's the opposite. We have been sprinting around what feels like the entire United States (in reality from Long Beach to San Diego, but still), doing one fun thing after another. And while in the moment it's fun and exciting, the after-effect is complete and utter exhaustion. I cannot tell you how fantastic it was to have our family down for a visit (despite medical drama, which I'll get to later). We loved being able to spend time with everyone. But now I'm so tired I'm not sure I'll be of any use to myself, much less my students.

So this week we have work, next weekend Matt's at church all weekend playing, and the following week more work. But then....oh my, what a then....The weekend of May 7-9 will be spent doing whatever we darn well please, and it will likely include an inordinate amount of time in our pajamas and a decent supply of aromatherapy and booze.