This is the beginning.
To start this story off we have to start even before high school. My infatuation with running began two years before. It all began in 7th grade P.E. In this class we would usually run "The Mile" once a week. Before middle school I had only ran a mile once before in my life. We did it back in 5th grade and I got somewhere in the range of 12 minutes. Talk about a school that's fit. As I remember there was a lot of walking. So when I arrived in middle school it's pretty reasonable to say that I was pretty unfit. Yes I was still that extremely skinny kid I am now but I hadn't run more than a mile in my life.
So every Friday we would line up and run "The Mile". Everyone always dreaded it but for some reason I was always looking forward to it. I wrote down my best times in my agenda and every Friday I set out to try and beat my time. So every week I lined up and set out to get faster. I had no sense of what was splits, pace, or even how to go out conservatively. It was always a guts out race for me. All out since the start. 8 minutes went down to 7:55 which went down to 7:42 and finally I ended 7th grade with a personal best of 7:29.
I entered 8th grade and I continued to improve. The goal? To break 7:00 for the mile and get into the 6 minute mile club. Our school had a sort of tradition where if you broke 7:00 in the mile twice in a row you would be awarded a shirt like this:
That set you out from the rest. As the year progressed I also progressed as well. I was running faster every mile and even began adding extra laps afterward. People thought I was crazy because I looked forward to the next mile. I saw it as a test, to see how fast I really was.
It came down the last two official weeks of P.E.. I had been running 7:10's and I had to try and break 7:00 these last two times to get the shirt.
The first one came and I took off and left it all on that grass field. Cross the finish..... 6:59! Just one more and I could finally get the shirt. The last time came and I took off again, lactic acid building up in laps 3 and 4 due to going out so fast. I pushed as hard as I could knowing this would be my final chance to get the shirt. My legs burned and my heart was racing, I had one lap to go. Then the final straightaway came I gave it all I had, 6:59. I finally doubled. One week later I got the shirt. As you can see I still have it now.
My beginning is pretty simple, no track or cross country team, no training, just a simple P.E. kid that enjoyed challenging himself in "The Mile". It began there in the field of Vernon Middle School that I was set out to become what I am today.
Next up: The First Day.
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