Essay On Personal Narrative: Running In High School

My frosted breath hung like cigarette smoke in the mid-October air. Why is it so cold? my face seemed to scream. Toes sliding around in my shoes like ice cubes, I huddled behind the mass of fellow cross country runners as we hurried towards the field house at Glenbrook South High School. For the first time since late March, frost dusted the grass, turning it an icy green. Although I was wearing three layers of clothing, each thicker than the previous, every breath I took sent shivers running down my spine. How I would survive two miles of this wearing only a singlet and short-shorts was beyond me. Running had only become a part of my life since the start of the school year. Hesitantly, I joined as a way to stay in shape for basketball
Going over the strategy I had formulated earlier, I knew where I wanted to be at the 100 meter and one mile mark. I put my toe on the starting line as the whistle blew, signaling us to quiet down and get ready for the gunshot. For what seemed like the longest few seconds of my life, I waited for the familiar sound of of the gun firing. The course at GBS is shaped like one horizontal rectangle with another vertical rectangle on top of it. To start, all 170 of us runners made a mad dash for the narrow opening near the start of the race before the course opened up. This was a critical part of the race because, after the opening stretch, most runners ran at a similar same pace. Catching up to other runners would be much more difficult after this point. I stood at the line, my eyes set firmly on the opening between the baseball field fence and the fence from the school to the road. My knees were slightly bent and my arm cocked back. A smile of anticipation slowly creeped across my face. Bang! Like a bull from the shoots, I sprang from my position and fought my way forward. The first 100 meters were like stepping on eggshells. You had to be careful not to trip or be tripped by the crowd of