The truth is admitting I hate practice. I hate the ache in my muscles that never go away. Morning practices in the weight room and I can’t seem to get the smell of IcyHot out of my head. I’ve practically given up my social life for this sport and all I do is run circles around a track. Some days, the afternoons are blistering hot and other days so frigid cold I think I’ve joined a winter sport. My lungs burn and feel deflated, chafed raw. My feet and ankles are permanently bruised; they’re covered in blisters and calloused.
The adrenaline pumping through my veins at meets is unbearable. My muscles twitch, reminding me how badly I want to run. How much I yearn to feel the burning sensation in my lungs and the ache in my calves. The truth is admitting we all do it for the meets.
The adrenaline pumping through my veins at meets is unbearable. My muscles twitch, reminding me how badly I want to run. How much I yearn to feel the burning sensation in my lungs and the ache in my calves. The truth is admitting we all do it for the meets.
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