As soon as the gun goes off, I push myself forward and start running down the course. I feel the cold air rushing into my lungs, making my breaths harder, shorter even. My fingers go numb and all that’s left is a tingling feeling. I watch people pass me until there’s four people behind me, and open fields in front of me. My lungs are screaming for air as if they are drowning from the cold.

I barely cross the finish line before my legs give out. I collapsed while tears streamed down my face as I realized I finished my last cross country race ever. Teammates’ parents helped carry me back over to the tent. The feeling of frustration consumed me because there was no next season for me. I did not want my last cross country race to end the way it did. Feeling defeated, I cry harder in my parents’ and coaches’ arms, grieving at the fact that I’ll never race cross country again.

But that’s life. That’s part of growing up and becoming a senior. I experienced all of my last firsts this season. Cross country has been my home for the last four years. It’s hard leaving behind a sport that I’ve loved so deeply. I feel like I’m losing a very important piece of myself. I always thought I would end this season on a high note, and while I didn’t end my last race with that feeling, I did end my high school running career that way.

I gained some of my best friends through this sport. I created the best memories at practice and team dinners. I learned more about myself as new challenges arose. I was lucky enough to be surrounded by coaches who pushed me beyond my comfort, who let me cry in their arms after a difficult meet, and supported me no matter what.

Cross country presented its challenges to me. I dealt with injuries, mental setbacks, and everything sports offer. But looking back, they all made me into the person I am today, and I’m so grateful that my freshman self took a chance on a new sport. So while I will never race cross country again, I know that I’ll hold unto my cross country memories forever.