Five years ago, I was a twelve-year-old girl who thought she might be able to run fast.
Five years ago, I was an avid softball player. Contrary to all of the other girls on the team, I looked forward to the end of practice when we would be split into two teams and run the bases, seeing which team could get through all of their members faster. I was extremely quiet, and it always skyrocketed my confidence when the girls got excited that I was put on their team. As a softball player, I was known for my speed. Stealing bases was one of my favorite things about softball, and I was usually able to do it.
Unfortunately, my speed was the only thing I had going for me as a softball player. Two years in a row, after participating in months of rigorous preseason workouts, I was cut from the school team. I was also cut from every city team that I tried out for. I still remember that one of those tryouts included a timed run to first base. I was so proud when the coach looked at my time, impressed. Unfortunately, again, that was the only time I managed to impress.
After having my heart broken time and time again from softball, I continued to play on a recreational team but I joined the track team in seventh grade as a sprinter. I was a fast softball player, so could I be a fast track runner? Well, not really. Now I was competing against people whose sport focused on running. I may have been fast for a softball player, but I wasn’t for a track runner.
Nevertheless, I stuck with it. I ran the 100m dash, the 200m dash, and occasionally the 4x200m relay. Everyone who knows me now is probably reading this and trying to picture me as a sprinter. Yeah, I know, it happened! Now I think shorter, faster workouts are the hardest and I can’t imagine how I used to do them, but I’ll get there.
I was a sprinter, who at the end of my second season, went to turn in my uniform to my coach and she had to ask me my name because she still didn’t know it, two years later. Yeah, I was quiet, but that was like a slap in the face. I was just a number. I didn’t have to be on that team; it would have been the same without me.
I remember that moment so distinctly as it felt sickening. If there’s one thing I cannot stress enough to coaches, it’s to learn every single person’s name. It is so important. I put in just as much effort, if not more, as most of the girls there. I was not a number, and I never wanted to feel that way again.
That next year was the second time I got cut from the softball team, my freshman year of high school. I was the only one that got cut. It was as if they were beating to the punch the idea of me just being a number, and they told me from the start that I didn’t need to be there. I remember getting home and curling into a ball on my bedroom floor and just sobbing. Where could I feel wanted?
In middle school, I had always admired the distance runners. I loved how small their group was; it was so intimate. They all seemed to be friends, too, and they were all always cheering for one another. I wanted to be a part of that, badly–but I knew I wasn’t a distance runner.
Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I had the courage to try AGAIN after feeling rejected by two sports that meant a lot to me. It must have been God who pushed me through, as He always had this in His plan, and wow. I am so thankful that I had that courage to go out and run with those girls the first day. At that point in my life, my confidence was so fragile.
I’ll never forget the euphoria I felt after running that first day. I was on top of the world. I had done what seemed impossible to me. Still, that didn’t compare to how I felt at the end, when we were doing core exercises, and something very special happened, something that I will never forget: the coach called me by name.
I went two years as a no-name, and on day 1 of distance running, I had an identity. It is something that seems so small, and I later told that coach how much it meant to me, because that was the moment I knew I was where I belonged. Finally.
Fast-forward three years, and I have completed three seasons of cross country and three more of track–all distance running. I have improved SO much. My first distance race, I got dead last. I’ll always remember that, too. Normally I would leave that feeling rejected, again, but I didn’t. The girls and the coaches were always endlessly supportive, and I was always given more chances.
This past Friday night was my last race. After going over a year without running a personal record, I ran in a 4x800m relay and broke my PR by a second. All of the other girls in my relay were seniors, too, and everyone ran at least a season best time. We shattered our seed (expected) time by 30 seconds.
Man. As I’m writing this, it’s hitting me how much I am going to miss my distance girls, and some of the coaches that I have had over the years. I went over a year without running a best time, which is extremely discouraging, but I was able to continue to push myself because of the girls I was surrounded with. Thank you, track & field, for bringing such wonderful people and opportunities in my life. The feeling of love and acceptance is the best in the world.
To my girls, if you’re reading this, please know how loved and supported you are. You are a part of an incredible family; never take it for granted. You have an unbelievable network of people who are always there for you, including me. Once a Mason distance runner, always a Mason distance runner.
I suffered a lot trying to find my place, but I wouldn’t change anything. It all led me to where I am today, finishing my sixth season of an incredible program. That’s something I’m always going to be proud of.
Thanks for the journey, track & field.
Gina Deaton 