To the Girl With the Black French Braid

To the girl with the black French braid: I don't know anything about you; I can't remember what school you are from; and quite frankly I didn't even catch your name. But I do want to say thank you. Because of you, I was able to finally break my cross country 6k PR and keep my sanity in the process.

OK, let me set the scene:

Mason, Ohio Kings Island [cross country] golf course: teams from all over the nation flocked to the gentle, rolling hills of the course that criss-crossed around fairways, tidy greens and splotches of trees--trees that were dripping fiery crimson and blood-orange so that it looked like someone had half dipped the fading green into paint buckets and forgotten about it. The pale blue sky was dotted with remnants of rain clouds, but the sun managed to filter through, allowing for the 'sunny and seventy-five' kind of day. All in all, a gorgeous day, especially for a race.

The plump Mr. starter raised his gun in the air, his beer belly protruding from underneath his shirt. And bang we were off. The first three k's passed by rather uneventfully; I let the momentum of the hundreds of girls pull me through. And then, panic set in. Straight panic.

Can't. Breathe. Where's coach. Need. Inhal-inhaler. Crap. Can't get. Air in. C'mon Sarah, calm down, dammit why can't. I get this. Then, a soft touch on my forearm.

"C'mon girl, you can do this. You have asthma?"

"Yuh" (I somehow managed to choke out)

"Me too; I know, I know. In through your nose."--a gentle tug on my forearm--"C'mon if I can do it, you can do it. Let's do this."

***

We did manage to do it. Both of us. Within two seconds of one another. And while I was overwhelmed to near tears at her act of kindness, I am more struck my the comradie that seems to accompany cross country.

While yes, we are all racing each other, we are all racing the same clock, all trying to do our very best, no matter how trying, how unbearable (at times) that may be.

And it is for that reason, and that reason alone why I can't envision myself on Saturday mornings not surrounded by 300 girls all racing that clock, all trying to break through the mental and physical barriers that embody cross country.