My father cleared his throat. "Don't expect me to drive to any of your track meets. I'm not doing it anymore. Don't expect me to work out with you, because I'm not doing that anymore. And most importantly, don't expect me to watch you run a race because I don't want to look at crap anymore. I'm not going to support you, when all you will do is fail. This whole running season is CRAP! Cross country, indoor track, and outdoor track all CRAPPY! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!" he yelled. "Yes , dad" I said automatically. The two hours became a blurred, after hearing the devastating speech my father gave.
All I wanted was your support. You said you are my biggest fan. Why are you turning your back on me? Fine. If that's the way you feel, I will accept this. I too, now will never expect anything from you either. I will be my own supporter.
When the car pulled up to our side walk, I slammed open the door and rushed upstairs to my room. I wanted to weep in peace.
Why should I run anymore? I suck at it. I have had so much more training this year than last year, but I ran a slower personal record this year. Why should I even run. What good will it do me. I just wanted to make my dad proud.
I rethought that last notion. "Make my dad proud..."
What was the reason I even started running. For it couldn't be to "Make my dad proud".
I reflected to my first days running. The wind blowing through my hair. My feet soaring over the soil. Joy overtaking me.
I run... I run... I run... because I love it. Not because I want to hit a certain time. Not because I want to make my dad proud. I first started running because I took pleasure in it.
A strong determination permeated me.
I will run. And this time I won't run to make my parents proud. I will run for me. Because I love it!
With a bittersweet smile on my face I let the relaxing arms of exhaustion wrap around my body.