Dreaded Shoes Anonymous

The radio crackles to life, a voice blaring into my ears: "Run faster….stop slowing down...." I wait for the man to finish his sentence, letting out a sigh when his voice dims, crackling under the effect of no service.The humidity leaves me feeling sticky and uncomfortable, a burning sensation starts to develop in my throat. My feet covers the uneven layers of tarmac, quickly breaking into a run. Wind whips at my face, doing nothing to alleviate my raspy throat. I’ve ignored the discomfort that has already reached its way into my thighs, and although there remain two stops till I return to my starting point, I slow myself to a walk.

As a member of a track team, an individual is required to pace himself, to endure, and to thrive. It is where your team members are considered your family, where you are looked to strive for a better success tomorrow that rivals that of today, for the good of your team members, and for the good of yourself.These are the same requirements that tempt me to lay in bed, contemplating whether I wished to stay on the team or not. And despite the temptations of my bed and the dread I feel when my eyes fix onto the Nike shoes, I continue to seek for a win, for success.With the facility of taxis, trains,...