Goodbye to You

I miss everything and nothing at the same time.

Lyrics from Michelle Branch's song "Goodbye to you." I've always loved that song because it's a true testament to letting go of what might be the hardest thing to say goodbye to. But that specific line, "I miss everything and nothing at the same time," I could never comprehend. How can you miss something and not miss it all at once? I couldn't wrap my head around the concept. At least not a few years ago when I was still in high school and very naïve of what was to come in life. But today, I realized just what she means.

I went to Ball State's track this afternoon to observe the women's track practice and talk to a few people for my article. My article is about how a run club organization has been able to provide competition for men who have lost their track teams. Ball State is one of those schools who no longer has a men's track team. My goal today was to get a feel for what track is like without the men there and what the women think of having no men's track.

On one hand I felt my visit was successful. I left with good quotes, a good feel of what track was like here at Ball State, and inspired to go for a run myself. On the other, it made me terribly miss the sport that I absolutely love.

I don't think my friends at Ball State realize just how important running to me once was. Back in high school, it was my life. Literally. My friends were all from the team, my schedule revolved around workouts and meets, my diet was strictly focused on helping me run. Runner's world was my new bible and my workout log was my new diary. It was all I could think and care about. If I had a bad workout or meet, I was angry with myself until the next time when I did better. The perfect example is the one time I didn't PR at a cross-country meet. I was off by about 10 seconds, but you would've thought it was the end of the world. I cried the rest of the day. My family took me out to lunch and I was quiet and puffy-eyed from being so upset. They thought something was truly wrong. They made me call off work and told me to sleep...they thought I was sick. Well, in a way they were right. I was so upset with myself, it's kind of sick to think how dramatic I was. All upset over one race in which the next week I PRed again. It was ridiculous. It was stupid.

It was an obsession.

Yes, it's no understatement to say that I was obsessed with the sport in a very unhealthy way. No sport should mean that much to anybody. I don't even think professional athletes that really live their life around a sport should feel the way I felt. But as much as I wish I could criticize myself, I have to defend my feelings. I may have been obsessed, but I was also extremely happy.

I found that I got a natural high out of running when I was young. I use to go run and run and run, just for the heck of it. In gradeschool I would change my clothes, grab my tennis shoes, make a water bottle, and go run laps around my backyard. In middle school I joined the cross-country and track team where I discovered I had a natural talent when it came to running. My father trained with me the summer before at the little run-down track in New York. It started with just a 400. Then it increased to 800. And then I was up 2 miles. By the time I got back to school I could compete, and I was doing well.

High school came and rocked my world. I was on Varsity all 4 years and I loved every minute of it. Then junior year came and I met my new coach, mr Michael Meiser. An intense passionate runner, he was the best coach our team had seen in years. I blame him for the obsession that I grew with running. He had us out there pushing ourselves beyond what we could believe...and the results showed. We were setting goals and actually achieving them. It was marvelous.

So by the time high school finally ended, it was naturally expected that I run in college. That's what my coach wanted. He strongly encouraged almost all of us seniors varsity runners to continue our running careers in college. And at first I thought that's what I wanted too. I talked to a few coaches, hoping to see what opportunities were out there. But by track season my senior year, something happened. I wasn't running like I use to. I wasn't training like I use to. My coach was hardly around and I found it hard to motivate myself during workouts. Looking back, I now realize I was burned out. I spent so much time training and setting goals, that now that the end was in sight, I was exhausted. I was looking forward to going to college for my career, not for running. After turning down the Wright State's coach's offer to run on the team, I realized that my competitive running career was coming to an end.

So why, after all of this time, I suddenly miss it?

Being at the track today, I saw something I hadn't seen in a long time. I saw a team. Stretching together, running together, pushing their limits together. I saw a coach encouraging them along. I saw passion and strength. I saw a desire in them. They were out there, training, hoping to achieve their own goals. I couldn't help but wonder if that could've been me.

I could've ran in college. Some of you reading this blog might think "Yeah right, Laura. You weren't that good in high school. How can you know that you could've gone out there and ran with those girls?" I don't. Maybe I would've shown up and got my ass kicked. But something in me just knows that that would not have been the case. That if I had worked hard that last track season, and conditioned over the summer, and continued to pour my heart and soul into running, I would be on the team. I would be out there with those girls I saw today, giving it my all. I'd be traveling to different places and competing against other collegiate runners. My times would be faster, my body in better shape. I could've continued my obsession, and knowing me, I probably would've still loved every second of it.

Here's the bittersweet part though. I'm glad I didn't do it. I'm glad the Ball State track coach, who I just met for the first time today, never responded to the e-mail I sent over 2 years ago (in which I also learned today probably ended up in his junk mail). I'm glad I didn't follow my coach's goals for me and made my own decision. I'm glad I chose Ball State for their journalism program, not for their track. Because if I hadn't turned down track, I would've never gone to run club. I would've never learn to love running as it is recreational. I would've never met my current friends and boyfriend. I wouldn't have had the awesome times that I've had. My story could be completely different. And I'm so grateful that it's not.

Sometimes I miss everything about running…and at the same time I don't miss it all. So to the runner I once was, I say, goodbye to you.