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Sports are popular in our house. My brothers never stop playing or watching or talking about sports. My mom is a great runner. My dad runs almost every day. Running has become my “thing,” too.
As a sophomore, I made the cross country second team All-Conference. Everyone was proud of me, but I wanted more. So last summer, I attended running camp, worked with a personal coach, and put in extra miles. My goal was first team All-Conference and state qualification.
When this season began, I was in the best shape of my life.
Then something didn’t feel right. I felt a little nauseous during a long run but blamed heat and dehydration. Then it returned on a cooler day … and fully hydrated. The doctor named anxiety.
As I tried to relax and improve, I only felt worse as my times got worse—mentally defeated. Then I started throwing up blood—after each race and even during a few races. Scopes, scans, and labs revealed my stomach was in rough shape but didn’t tell the cause or solution.
My running was in shambles. I felt terrible.
I followed the doctor’s orders, listened to my coaches, took medicine, and rested. In the end, my junior season was worse than my sophomore one. I made Honorable Mention All-Conference, but I did not make it to state. This was hard.
Sometimes life is hard; our plans don’t work out; we see the finish line but have to stop to throw up. That’s life. But we make our way to the finish line anyway.
I can work to heal my stomach. I can train hard again, and I have next year. That’s the good thing about all these crazy sports. That’s why running is my “thing.”
