I was never really allowed to play competitive sports growing up because most of the games were on Saturdays. That never stopped me from enjoying sports, though. The first true competitive sport I ever did was swimming. I was on a club swim team for most of 7th grade. I quit at the end of the year. I’ve always loved swimming, but I hated just about every minute of my time spent on the team. I didn’t go to practice that much, but they would have us go out there in the pool half naked in our paper-thin swim underwear that they called “jammies” and have us swim laps for like 2 hours. I didn’t hate the swimming, though; I hated having to go out there in our jammies and bald caps multiple times a week. All the kids on the team were pretty mean to me, or at least it seemed like they were. Everyone thought they were the hot stuff and better than everyone. They weren’t. It didn’t help that most of the middle school swimmers were girls, so I only had 3 boys to talk to. I don’t wanna be mean myself, but I found them pretty annoying and arrogant like everyone else. It never helped that I was the only black kid on the swim team, something I was constantly reminded of through my friends' “jokes” at school. I hated getting my hair wet. I hated getting out of the pool in the cold. I hated diving into the pool. I wasn’t that bad, but I didn’t push myself to become better, and no one in my life was truly pushing me to get any better. So I quit. In hindsight, I probably should have stuck with it. I had the talent to become great, but I didn’t use it. I could’ve been like a super hot, buff swimmer with an eight-pack and massive obliques, but I quit.
I’ve always been relatively athletic and pretty decent at about every sport. However, swimming and running were like the only things I showed true promise in. After my short swimming tenure, I joined the cross country and track team in 8th grade. I was pretty good at them too. I was like all-county for cross country, and I ran a sub-6-mile in track. After the track season, I quit running. I thought about joining cross country and track freshman year, but I didn’t. Instead, I played on a club rugby team for all of freshman year. I sucked at it, and it’s a story for another time.
Whenever I become above average at something or show promise in anything, I tend to just stop doing that thing. I don’t know why I do it, but I just do. It’s been a recurring theme throughout my life. Whether that thing was running, swimming, drawing, etc., I just stopped doing it once I wasn’t mediocre at it. I think my quitting stems from some inferiority complex that’s ingrained in me. I always feel that whatever I do is never good enough, and that someone out there is always doing more and better than me. I think this thought leads me to quit and stop doing the things I love, the same things I worked so hard to become good at. I guess those philosophical guys truly are right. Comparison really is the thief of joy. I’d like to say that I’ve stopped this habit, but I haven’t. I’m not sure if I ever will.
During my time playing rugby and after I quit, I never stopped running. I would always go on sporadic short runs, like once a week. It wasn’t til about February of this year that I picked up running for real after I decided to sign up for a half marathon with my friend. This wasn’t going to be my first half marathon, though; I had previously run one in 6th grade after my dad signed me up for it. The plan for the race was to go sub-2 hours, which we easily demolished. The pre-race training really helped me achieve this. I continued my running escapades after the marathon too. Throughout this summer, I’ve consistently run 2-3 times a week. I typically run like 4 to 6 miles each run.
After today, I think I can officially say that my 3-year running hiatus is over. This morning, Ray and I went down to the ol’ track at like 6 am so I could run a timed mile. I finished with a time of 5:38. I think I could’ve gone faster; I don’t think I pushed myself that hard on the 2nd and 3rd laps. Nonetheless, I’m still good with the time. It’s not the best time, but I think it shows that I’ve returned to my former glory. I believe my love for running is finally back, and I don’t plan on quitting this time unless I just happen to rip my leg open or something.
All my life, I’ve been a quitter. I don’t want to quit anymore.
“I came, I saw, I conquered.” -Julius Caesar
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