Cross Town Narrative

Words: 547
Pages: 3

It's an early fall morning, the smell of fresh dew in the air. The smell of fallen leaves wafting through the moist East Texas wind, causing a slight chill to be felt. The sunrise as red and colorful as ever, a great painting in the air. To many, it's the best day possible to run a cross country meet. As for more, as was anxious, hoping the inevitable wouldn't happen once again. I step up to the starting line, ready for the bang of the gun that starts the race, the one I'm so familiar with.
And there it is! BANG! I take off, at first, with the strength of a puma, trying my hardest to get in front of the runners in front, my breathing becoming heavy and shallow. Suddenly, with the force of what feels like a car hitting a body, I feel my legs once again
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I loved high school, possibly more than anyone else in little old Alba. I did everything I could possibly do to complete the prefect high school experience. From starting guard in football (though I only weighed about a hundred and forty pounds), to varsity cross country, to FFA, and to band. I regret nothing from those years. I loved being busy, accomplishing things others could not, and going to see the vast plains of the state I love going to competitions. It was an amazing experience I wouldn't give away for the world.
But it was not without its tolls. Unfortunately, rest was a great luxury for me. Especially during the fall, I rarely was able to rest my feet. On Mondays,
I ran at least 3 miles in the morning at 6 o'clock in the morning, went through school, practiced football till six, and then band till nine. My legs became exhausted and fatigued, so much in fact I became injured from such tiredness.
It was a great pain, starting from the bottom of my calves, to above my knees.
I was to be wrapped every meet to keep my muscles in place while running, but this did very little to help me. My blood sugar dropped as well, entering