Before our cross country league championship my freshman year of high school, one of my best friends and teammates wrote the passages below and handed it out to the team. He was a precocious 15-year-old junior, and I've held onto his words ever since because they continue to be meaningful, all these years later. Not every part may be relevant to your situation, but as a runner you can surely connect with some of it. Without further ado...
For eight weeks now you've labored, toiled, and sweated.
Every day. Under a sweltering sun and beneath wind-swept
rain. You've laughed and cried, felt the sting of defeat and
experienced the lauds of triumph.
But you were never alone. Teammates fast became friends,
and these friendships extended far beyond the carriage
roads and orchard paths. They wove themselves into our
lives, into our hearts; for a true friend is a friend you've
suffered with, and every cross-country runner knows
intimately the true meaning of suffering.
Throughout all of this, we've been led by two men. Two
men who gave endlessly, of their time, of their money, of
themselves. Two men who shared in our achievements, and
who provided us with shoulders to lean on - and to cry on -
when we needed it the most.
Today is the day. This is what we've trained for.
For some of us this is the culmination of four years' work.
For all of us this is the standard by which our labors are
measured.
The mantra: Run fast, run strong, run hard - for your
teammates, your coaches, yourself.
Very nice. And for a 15 year old boy, wow. Thank you for sharing.
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