Sprinting Towards Pain

Sprinting Towards Pain

I don't want to let the team down. I can't. But it just hurts so much. I need to stop.

“Only if it snows, then track practice will be cancelled,” Coach Roy’s rumbly voice bellowed through the pitter-pattering drops of rain. That merciless voice came out of a man of short stature, someone you simply didn’t want to mess with. He assigned the hardest workout of the season: three by 400 meters, three by 300, three by 200, and three by 100, all done in sprints and with barely any rest in between each set and repetition. Coach Roy always wore his same pair of sunglasses, revealing no signs of emotion in his eyes. He was a robot, devoid of any kind of sympathy.

“Ailee, I’m excited to see how you do today. Give me your best shot!” Coach Roy’s lips rose into a small smile.

Impossible. That word resonated throughout my mind as I blindly stumbled around the track. I’m done. Just done. I can’t do this anymore. I was only a fourth of the way through the workout. The excruciating burn in my hamstrings and calves begging me to stop, my tight chest heaving with discomfort as I gasped for air with no avail, my incessant heartbeat thundering inside my head— all these were signs I was close to the gates of hell. My eyes were glazed over, and they were now neverending black holes of desperation. But the agony still persisted.

Before track, I never even associated myself with the word pain. It just simply wasn’t in my dictionary. A little prick on the finger by a thorn could transform me into a wailing baby in one second.

During track, I would be seen cheering on others, clapping and urging my teammates to keep going. Yet I secretly knew in my heart that if I was placed into the shoes of my teammates, I would simply refuse to keep going, stop, and sit down at the middle of the track if I even felt any tiny hint of soreness. I was a hypocrite.

I then looked up into the sky, ominous with looming rain clouds overhead. The raindrops fell even harder, turning the track into a tear-streaked underworld of despair. Each raindrop stung my face like a wasp. The rancid, rubber-like stench of the track overwhelmed my nostrils and throat, and I knew I was about to hurl.

In front of me were two other sprinters. As the rain obscured  my field of vision, their figures soon became two shapeless blobs of red and blue. I always started my set after they went. However, as I got ready for my next set, I realized those two familiar blurs of red and blue were no where to be found. Instead of starting at the 200 meter mark, they started at the 100 meter mark. Wait. Aren’t we supposed to do three more 200 meters before starting the 100 meter set? Are they cheating?

They were. I wanted to follow them.

That way, this misery will go away soon. Why should I even bother to put myself through this torture?

But what about my pledge to stick to the very end? To persevere?

Who cares? No one’s even watching. Come on. I’m already dying. I should just stop.

No. I had already promised Coach Roy I would never give up. I can do this.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I hate pain.

I looked over in the direction of Coach Roy. He was congratulating the two red and blue figures, who had just “completed” their workout in such a short amount of time.

Coach Roy isn’t even looking. I’ll get praised too. Maybe if I start the 100 meter set now…

“Ailee, don’t give up,” a soothing, liquid-like voice of warmth materialized by my ear. The voice belonged to Kai, the star of the track team, who now stood beside me, towering at least two feet above.

I jumped. I had never spoken to Kai before, and instead, admired him from a distance. Even in the dreary rain, his toned calf muscles radiated their own luminosity. Close up, his eyes possessed their own internal fire, which flared up whenever he was sprinting his heart out. I had seen him running around the track, looking so carefree and spirited. I wanted running to be like that for me, to be free of pain.

“But, why can they? I want to stop. My legs are on fire,” I retorted back. Why should I listen to him? Kai was probably born with a natural talent for running.

“Those guys are just cheating themselves.” Kai placed his hands on my shoulders and guided me over to the 200 meter mark. “Embrace the burn.”

Ugh. Why do I even have to listen to him? I bet running’s never hard for him.

Then, Kai started on his own set, and took off, his leg muscles effortlessly pushing him forward, fluidly pumping with no movement wasted. The agile clickety-clacks of his spikes soon disappeared as he sprinted away from me. Accompanying the sound of his spikes was his agonizing breathing, which sounded hoarse, like suffocating wheezes during an asthma attack. He was in pain. Yet no matter how long I listened for a desperate plea for help in his breathing, it never came. He went on to sprint another 200.

I was alone again. I could still hear Kai’s sharp pants in the distance.

The rain. Coach Roy. The burning odor of the track. The two figures before me. Kai. Pain.

I took a deep breath, with my eyes set on the horizon.

You know what?

I love sprinting.

I love pain.