Featherflesh will shriekingly fall
Wow. I did absolutely incredible in today's invitational at Quabbin. As you all know, I ran VARSITY, and was told I'd probably come in sixth in Gardner Girls. Not one to have my fate determined by others, I decided to fuck with their minds and take third. And I wasn't even tired! I was just cruisin' along. The conditions were absolutely horrid, which is why I did so well. I'm made for difficulty. For you non-New Englanders, it's been raining nonstop for a week now (what does the sun look like again?), and it's a thick, heavy downpour kind of rain. So just imagine the course. Just IMAGINE. The starting field was three inches deep in water, it was monstrously awesome to plow through and send up a wake to rival that of a speedboat. Literal rivers were running downhill and everything was pure mud and rocks. Imagine the treachery. My spikes helped a lot, except you can't step on rocks with those things or you'll be sent sprawling to the ground.
At the end, there were four Nashoba girls in front of me as I rounded the last bend to the final 300 meters on the track. Coach yelled at me that I had to catch them, no other way. They were crucial to our victory. I banged around the corner tight and Joey yelled, "Get right up there and ride those girls' asses!" Before he could finish that heartening statement, I propelled myself forward at the speed of a bullet, lowering my head and pumping my arms hard and tight. In seconds, I burst past three of the girls. Only one managed to beat me, and she had the advantage of being in the inside lane. Thanks in large part to me, we beat Nashoba down and came in first in our League.
After the race, millions of people came up to congratulate me, some I didn't even know. To go from sixth to third is a big deal, especially when you're dealing with the big names in the business. One compliment all my praisers had in common was telling me that I was like a beast on the track. Some said they wouldn't want to be up against me, that I was a wild animal! So overall I came in thirty-first. So proud of myself. Coach was even more proud of me, if that's even possible. He and KP call me their "sleeper"; none of the other teams know about me because I wasn't on the team last year due to my injury. Now all of a sudden, there's yet another amazing runner on Gardner, and she's preventing enemy wins left and right! It's a great feeling.
We almost didn't run the race, though! The conditions were that bad. Before we left the school, we were all crowded inside, staring out at the downpour. Coach came up and poked the feathers in my hair, saying, "Let's have a powwow. Do you think we should run today?" "I think so," I said immediately, eager to get out there even though everyone else said it was a bad idea. He just smiled and said, "Well, you're crazy." He always asks me if I'm in pain, cuz I limp sometimes. I always say no, and he immediately says, "I don't believe you." Ahaa. Smart man. He knows me too well. Though the limp has its good points; after a race, when I've whooped almost everyone's asses, they see my limping and think, Wow. I SUCK. A gimp beat me?! A wicked tool of breaking spirits!
KP told us to talk it over about whether we should run or not, so us girls got in a circle and passed around one of Charissa's racing flats. Whoever held the shoe got to speak their piece on why we should or shouldn't run it (the race didn't formally count for anything). Everyone else either said no or half-half, that the conditions were real bad and it wasn't worth risking injury for a nothing race. I was boiling over until it got to my turn, where I launched into a really passionate speech about how if we truly wanted to call ourselves Cross Country runners, we had to go out and run this. We weren't Track, where the conditions never change and you're presented with no challenge. We were harriers, and if we had any intention of continuing to call ourselves that and take pride in doing so, there was no way we could turn this challenge, this test of our mettle, down. The point of Cross Country is to be unsure, to be put in positions of danger. If we were going to pass this up, then we might as well quit altogether.
...Needless to say, after that, we ran.
I love knowing other teams hate us. Cold-bloodedly despise us. That has to be one of the BEST feelings. Ever.
After the race, the Cult had a hangout. (The Cult is a small group of us runners who act insane and crazy.) Me, Heather, Hannah, Helen and Katherine went to eat at Wendy's, where we had a lot of laughs about sweet nothings. I ordered chicken! Then we went to Heather's house and were going to watch The Pacifier (yes, my Vinny! *glares at Joey*), but got distracted by a showing of Grease 2 on TV. Was anyone even aware that there was such a thing? The plot is SO hard to follow and makes no real sense, and the whole movie is so hilariously bad, we couldn't stop laughing. Like Biker Heaven, the fallout shelter scene (romantic bandages??), the drunkard bopping his butt in and out of the pool as he slowly drowned, and the FUNNIEST line in the whole thing...well, I'll let you watch it and find out for yourself.
Oh yes. Zach's doing a lot better. The doctors cut him all up or something, and he was just allowed to leave the house yesterday. He's pretty weak at the moment, but he's doing good. (Coach is his uncle, and I'm his unoffical cousin. How weird.)
At the end, there were four Nashoba girls in front of me as I rounded the last bend to the final 300 meters on the track. Coach yelled at me that I had to catch them, no other way. They were crucial to our victory. I banged around the corner tight and Joey yelled, "Get right up there and ride those girls' asses!" Before he could finish that heartening statement, I propelled myself forward at the speed of a bullet, lowering my head and pumping my arms hard and tight. In seconds, I burst past three of the girls. Only one managed to beat me, and she had the advantage of being in the inside lane. Thanks in large part to me, we beat Nashoba down and came in first in our League.
After the race, millions of people came up to congratulate me, some I didn't even know. To go from sixth to third is a big deal, especially when you're dealing with the big names in the business. One compliment all my praisers had in common was telling me that I was like a beast on the track. Some said they wouldn't want to be up against me, that I was a wild animal! So overall I came in thirty-first. So proud of myself. Coach was even more proud of me, if that's even possible. He and KP call me their "sleeper"; none of the other teams know about me because I wasn't on the team last year due to my injury. Now all of a sudden, there's yet another amazing runner on Gardner, and she's preventing enemy wins left and right! It's a great feeling.
We almost didn't run the race, though! The conditions were that bad. Before we left the school, we were all crowded inside, staring out at the downpour. Coach came up and poked the feathers in my hair, saying, "Let's have a powwow. Do you think we should run today?" "I think so," I said immediately, eager to get out there even though everyone else said it was a bad idea. He just smiled and said, "Well, you're crazy." He always asks me if I'm in pain, cuz I limp sometimes. I always say no, and he immediately says, "I don't believe you." Ahaa. Smart man. He knows me too well. Though the limp has its good points; after a race, when I've whooped almost everyone's asses, they see my limping and think, Wow. I SUCK. A gimp beat me?! A wicked tool of breaking spirits!
KP told us to talk it over about whether we should run or not, so us girls got in a circle and passed around one of Charissa's racing flats. Whoever held the shoe got to speak their piece on why we should or shouldn't run it (the race didn't formally count for anything). Everyone else either said no or half-half, that the conditions were real bad and it wasn't worth risking injury for a nothing race. I was boiling over until it got to my turn, where I launched into a really passionate speech about how if we truly wanted to call ourselves Cross Country runners, we had to go out and run this. We weren't Track, where the conditions never change and you're presented with no challenge. We were harriers, and if we had any intention of continuing to call ourselves that and take pride in doing so, there was no way we could turn this challenge, this test of our mettle, down. The point of Cross Country is to be unsure, to be put in positions of danger. If we were going to pass this up, then we might as well quit altogether.
...Needless to say, after that, we ran.
I love knowing other teams hate us. Cold-bloodedly despise us. That has to be one of the BEST feelings. Ever.
After the race, the Cult had a hangout. (The Cult is a small group of us runners who act insane and crazy.) Me, Heather, Hannah, Helen and Katherine went to eat at Wendy's, where we had a lot of laughs about sweet nothings. I ordered chicken! Then we went to Heather's house and were going to watch The Pacifier (yes, my Vinny! *glares at Joey*), but got distracted by a showing of Grease 2 on TV. Was anyone even aware that there was such a thing? The plot is SO hard to follow and makes no real sense, and the whole movie is so hilariously bad, we couldn't stop laughing. Like Biker Heaven, the fallout shelter scene (romantic bandages??), the drunkard bopping his butt in and out of the pool as he slowly drowned, and the FUNNIEST line in the whole thing...well, I'll let you watch it and find out for yourself.
Oh yes. Zach's doing a lot better. The doctors cut him all up or something, and he was just allowed to leave the house yesterday. He's pretty weak at the moment, but he's doing good. (Coach is his uncle, and I'm his unoffical cousin. How weird.)