It can be said that track season never ends. Over the years,
I have come to believe that statement is true. Call it an accident. Call it intervention.
Call it providence. But involvement in the sport that I love is no joke. I don’t
believe in luck. Luck does not win a state championship. When I say that track
season never ends, I really mean that the time I spend preparing yourself does
not change. I prepare the same whether it is training season or competition
season. That is the lesson that I have learned. That I am still learning.
When I learned that my detaching retinas would end my spring
soccer season before it started, I was devastated. I had come from not knowing
anything about soccer to being the leading goal scorer on my team. And I admit,
I had an ego about it. Soccer just seemed too easy for me. That all changed the
day I was told that I would not be playing soccer the next season. Unsure of
what I would do with myself during the spring, my mom suggested track.
Reluctantly, I agreed.
I signed up for track. It was my seventh grade year. There
were no tryouts. No one got cut from the team. Countless people had told me
that I was fast—that speed was my advantage in soccer. It was time to test that
out on the track.
I didn’t miss a single practice. Then, came the day of my
first track meet. We were facing Reynoldsburg middle school. I was very
nervous, not knowing what to expect or what the outcome would be. I learned
that the sprinters ran in heats ordered by ability. Due to my speed, I was in
the first heat. I chose to run in the 100-meter dash, the 400-meter relay, and the
800-meter relay.
When it came time for the first heat of the first race, I took
a deep breath. I wasn’t sure where this would lead me. The track was empty in
front of me. Mine to claim.
What would I think about this when it was all over?
“On your marks!”
I got on my knees,
palms facing the ground. Sure my form was wrong. Questioning everything about
this race.
“Set!”
My body raised as adrenaline rushed through my body. No time
to think. Or question. Or wonder.
“GO!”
I jumped off the blocks and ran with all the speed I could
muster. I came in third place. And as I bent over resting my hands on my knees,
trying to catch my breath, I came to the realization that I loved that feeling.
Of an empty track. Of using every muscle in my body to pour myself onto that
track.
I loved this sport and from that first race and every day
since I promised myself I would do whatever it took to be the best. That year,
my school went to the district meet and got first place.
That was two years
ago …
“In lane six, Isaiah Henn from Westland,” I raised my hand
to show the starter that I was here. I was on the varsity track team my freshman
year in high school. I was again in the
first heat. This time was different though. I could feel it. This year was
going to be great.
Long jump was my favorite this year. I was undefeated going
into our fourth meet. You could say this next meet was a rivalry, since our
high schools are located practically right next to each other. My school district is pretty big. There are
four high schools—all of them with more than 1,000 students.
We traveled to Franklin Heights on a beautiful evening. The
weather was good. The team was energized. I was confident. My first jump of four
was a new personal record. I jumped 19 feet 113/4 inches. Still in first place,
I was feeling good about myself and I left the sand pit to run my race. I jumped
off the blocks and raced as fast as I could. As fast as my trainers and coaches
had been teaching me. And I finished the race crossing the line with a new
record of 11.3 seconds.
Something wasn't right though. I started to walk and felt a popping
in my leg. Pain shot through my left leg and up into my glutes. I limped off to
see my coach so that it could be wrapped. Thinking it was just a muscle strain,
I went back to jumping. It hurt a lot, but I finished my jumps. I went to do
the 400-meter relay. I was second leg on my team. It was a very close race. When
the baton came to me, we were behind. I raced ahead and passed the baton to the
next person. As I stopped running, I immediately felt a burning sensation in my
leg. It was unbearable.
After checking in with my parents, I had it checked out by
the trainer and it was determined that I wouldn't be able to run in the next
meet. I was hurt very bad. I went to the
doctor. She told me that I had torn my hamstring. I started physical therapy
and continued physical therapy for the next four weeks. Those four weeks were
the most horrible and longest weeks of my life. All of my teammates were
competing. I sat in the stands and watched. I lost my spot in the 400-meter
relay.
I was so excited and nervous to get back to competing. My
first meet back from that injury was tough. It was like I was starting all over
again. Slower times. Shorter jumps. Lower confidence. By the second meet, I was
getting better.
I made it back to competition just in time for OCC
championship meet. I was very nervous considering that I needed to place third
or above in the long jump to get to the districts. Needless to say, I got third
place in the finals with a new personal
record of 20 feet 1 inch and I qualified to compete in the districts
competition. I was one of only two students on my team to get a medal.
Districts proved to be the most nervous time of the year for
me. I needed to place fourth or better to go to regionals. I was in the second
flight of nearly 50 total jumpers. Each jumper would get three jumps and the
nine students with the longest jumps would be in the finals later that day.
I was desperate to be part of that nine.
With one jump left, I
took a deep breath. As I had told myself two years earlier, when the most
important thing in my life was to run, when decisions didn't matter or a single
mistake did not cost so much, I had to make this moment count.
Where would this lead me? What would I think about this when
it was all over?
With that in mind, I looked all around. People had come to
watch me. My parents and siblings were there. My Grammy. Other students from my
high school. My mom was tweeting and instagramming the whole thing. I realized
that this moment was the start of something bigger. For me. And for my family.
I focused in on the board with only one thought in my mind: I will not let them down.
Adrenaline rushed through my body as it had done two years
earlier, and I started to run. I hit the board perfectly and I jumped. The
world seemed to slow down as I hung in the air. I was able to process so much
and forget so much at the same time. It was a high, long, exhilarating jump. I
felt my body descend, and when I finally landed, I felt amazing. Like I had
just given everything I could. I stepped out of the pit. “20 feet 21/4
inches,” the judge said. I set a new personal record! I was in the finals!
I jumped in the nineteens in the final. When the last jump
was made, I knew that I had not made it to the regional competition. I was disappointed
when I learned that I was in fifth place, just inches from going to the
regionals. I didn't respond well to what I considered a failure. I would not
let it go. I was tired of being barely in or barely out of competitions. It did
not matter if I was just a freshman. Or that I had only been back to competing
for 14 days. It didn't matter to me how many more years I have to go. I was
upset that it was all over.
Then, I was told that the track season never ends. In a way,
I guess that statement is right. The district track meet was a few weeks ago,
and I just spent last week of my summer at
a track camp. Hours of running, conditioning and teamwork in the only place I feel
inspired. On the track in the place I hope to run and compete someday. The place
that I would love to go to college—that I think can best prepare me for another
one of my dreams: the Olympics. That place is Ohio State, where they taught me
that I could never be perfect.
Accidents happen, I realize that. I guess that’s why I run
from my problems. Track wasn't an accident though. There is a reason I was
introduced to this sport. It might have been to learn from those
better than me. I believe that it was to learn patience. Whatever the reason,
track has inspired me to do more, to know more, to be more. In reality, that is
all that I am asking for.
I will not stop preparing, no matter what. I have overcome a
lot since seventh grade. Looking back, that’s all that I asked for. I am sure
that in a few more years I will realize that I did make the right choice. Track
and field is MY sport. Crouching down, adrenaline flowing, my head is clear. With
the whole track empty in front of me, I
cannot wait to show my opponents that all I do is prepare. For competition. And for life.
© 2013 Isaiah P. Henn, all rights reserved.
Copyright notice: All content, including writings, artwork, photographs, or videos, posted on this blog is original to Isaiah P. Henn and the HennHouse unless otherwise stated and may not be reproduced without permission.
© 2013 Isaiah P. Henn, all rights reserved.
Copyright notice: All content, including writings, artwork, photographs, or videos, posted on this blog is original to Isaiah P. Henn and the HennHouse unless otherwise stated and may not be reproduced without permission.
ReplyDeletePlease keep writing, Your words have such emotion and life-- they are motivational, inspiring and thrilling to read. Track sure sounds like a blessing in disguise. One of my favorite movies is "Meet the Robinsons'"... The catch phrase for the movie is Keep Moving Forward. Thank you for striving to be a strong, healthy and responsible teenager, we need more like you in this world!
Great post, Isaiah! You did such a great job describing and expressing your thoughts and feelings. I look forward to reading more about all your experiences in life and track and field.
ReplyDeleteCarrie Adkins
Amazing!!! You write like a professional! Please keep it up!
ReplyDeleteJennifer Springer
Amazing!!! You write like a professional! Please keep it up!
ReplyDeleteJennifer Springer
Amazing! You write like a professional! Please keep writing!
ReplyDeleteAmazing!!! You write like a professional! Please keep it up!
ReplyDeleteJennifer Springer
Amazing!!! You write like a professional! Please keep it up!
ReplyDeleteJennifer Springer
I am so proud of you Isaiah! Knowing how to work for a worthy goal will reward you throughout your life!
ReplyDeleteIsaiah, I am not an athlete. I can ride a bike, and swim a couple lengths in a pool. Your post, full of great explanations and especially, sharing what it FEELS like to be a true athlete, entirely engaged me. I read every single word, and found myself growing excited and even tense about what was to come. Even though I don't know you, I felt caught up in your process - elated when you ran fast and jumped high, deflated when you were injured or didn't quite make your goal. It sounds like you have learned a great deal about yourself in the past several years, and you've even given me some things to think about. I believe that we can achieve just about anything we dream of, if we work hard enough for it. I believe that, with your attitude, you will achieve your dreams. I cannot wait until I can watch the Olympics on television, point to Isaiah Henn, and scream, "I know that young man who just won!!!!" (Well, I don't really know you, but I feel like I do!) Keep working, keep training, keep running the high road, keep your goals in sight, and you will succeed! Congratulations on all that you have already achieved, and best of luck in the future!
ReplyDeleteAnn
PS I like the way you started your blog post with "track season never ends," and returned to the theme near the end of the post to wrap things up so neatly!