Amy Meyerson

Ms. Tompkins

World Literature Honors

April 23, 2015

Never Easy, Always Worth It

My feet continue to rapidly slap the ground in a sprint, bent arms swinging like a pendulum in opposition with my legs, but I fear I will not be able to keep this up for long. As the sweat dribbles down my face and my fists clench with complete and utter pain, all I want to do is stop. I forcefully close my eyes and try to control my sharp, heaving breath, but the air continues to enter and exit my lungs without a fraction of enough time to make me feel refreshed. My heart thumps against my ribcage faster and faster, about to shatter my ribs and break out of my body, and any attempt to calm it is only in vain.

“You CANNOT stop,” I scream in my mind, trying to capture the voice of an angry drill sergeant. “You won’t stop, not now, not until this is over. You need to prove to yourself you are more than a history of constantly giving up.”

But my mind and body do not coexist. I shift my eyes to Carmen. Look at her. She seems to be having no trouble. It's a walk in the park for her… even though this is actually a marathon. A leisurely run in the park? Whatever.   

I examine her outfit; it looks like she pulled it straight out of a Women’s Running magazine, and she has the body to go with it, too. Her bouncy brown ponytail whips around as she turns to face me. "Doin’ okay there Alice...?" She asks, in possibly the most condescending tone I have ever heard.

“Is she serious? I know you are better than I am at this; do you really need to treat me like a child?”

“Shut up,” I coldly whisper through my teeth, but I can’t even do that without becoming more exhausted.

My annoyance is apparently evident.

“Fine, I was just asking." Carmen bolts forward, and at a rate too fast for me to ever catch up, might I add.

The fury at her convinces my legs to try to propel me through the path faster. I feel unstoppable… for about ten more steps. Then, my pace reverts to the just-barely getting by tempo. My shirt has become an entirely different color, tainted with sweat stains.

I am at war with myself. Half of me wants me to trip on a twig or something and just be done with this. Half of me wants to stick it to Carmen and beat her.

My weary body does not want to keep going. My mind begins to fog up, a chaotic flurry of emotions taking me over.

What motivation do I access when I wholeheartedly feel like all of my limbs and organs have given up on me?

I look down at my dirty, worn out pink and black Skechers. I haven’t pulled these out since freshman year PE, and with the way they fit, my feet must be purple underneath the ugly grey socks I’m wearing. I am so out of place. I suppose pondering this has kept me busy, since I am actually beating a few people over here. Somehow realizing I don’t feel terrible is a cue for the disgustingly unbearable emotions to return.

“OH MY GOD.”

No one has slashed my stomach open with a sword before, but now I know how it feels. I cringe at the intrusive cramp in my stomach and sides.

I cannot tolerate this pain. I can’t. I can’t do this. Make it stop. I am going to die.

“Deep breaths,” I tell myself. However, the exhalation of my first breath comes out as an agonizing high-pitched whine. I hold my stomach with my arms and continue running at a much slower pace, with highly unattractive form. My whole body is at a state in which I would believe you if you told me that someone has taken out all of my bones and inflated me like a balloon.

Every inch of me hurts terribly, from my sore throat to pounding headache to incarcerated feet that do not want to keep moving, but do so regardless.

...and that’s the weird thing. That my feet keep moving. Every single step, they take me further, even if the steps are barely steps at all. It is insane to me that I have actually made it so far.

I see Carmen nearing the big red banner and white chalk line signifying the finish.

I want more than it just to end. Through all the pain I have inflicted upon myself, I deserve more than for it to simply end.

Something comes over me, something so foreign and surprising. I still feel the rampant agony, but my body surpasses it, telling me that this will all be over soon. I have never felt faster or more powerful. My legs take reassuring strides, carrying me to the finish. Everything feels like slow motion…

I am at the moment I never thought I would reach. Two more steps.

One………………. two…..

“That’s it! I’m done!” Tears spill down my face, tracing every sweaty pore. While I wipe some of them away, I catch a glimpse of Carmen rolling her eyes, distracting herself on her phone instead of looking at me. As she walks in the other direction, she comes face to face with a tree. She fixes her hair and looks around, concerned, hoping no one saw that. But I did.

Suddenly, my mind feels like it is crashing. My feet can’t hold my weight. I try to keep myself upright but I wobble and let go of my balance.

My head has hit the ground. An eerie blackness rushes over as the paramedics frantically run to me, and one last thought emerges through it all.

I didn’t give up.