180

Everything is different.

I had this realization of how much my life has changed the other day when my mom asked me to pick up pizza. We ordered LaRosa's and as I drove into the parking lot of the restaurant, I realized the last time I had been there I was still in high school and it was a carbo-loading pasta night with my cross-country team. Bittersweet memories. But what really woke me up was the person I met inside the restaurant.

Her name is Pam, and she is the daughter of my first cross-country coach, the one who coached me for the first two years of high school. The last time I saw her I swear she was only 11 years old and still running faster than everyone else.

Well, now she's old enough to have a job and she works at this particular LaRosa's. As I was rummaging through my purse for my wallet I heard a voice saying, "Rebecca. Rebecca." Even though it was not my name I had a feeling it was directed at me. Sure enough I looked up and there she was.

I was sweet. I didn't have much to say, but what was there to say? I hadn't seen the girl in years. She recognized me but didn't even remember my name. Our conversation was short and awkward. I left hoping she didn't think I was rude.

As I got into my car though I realized the petty life I was living in high school and how much it meant to me. You see, when Pam's mom quit coaching, she didn't just quit. She took the team down with her. Her reasoning for quitting was that we were a bunch of lazy asses who didn't put forth any work effort. She did however call two runners and told them they were the exception. I was not one of them and this greatly offended me, especially since she had given me an award at the end of the season for being the hardest worker. I would run into her later and she would admit that she thought about calling me, but she never actually gave me a reason as to why she didn't. At that point I was too apathetic to care.

But running into Pam had nothing to do with her mom. It reminded me more of my second coach, the one I'll call, well, I'll just stick to Coach. When he heard about how our first coach quit, he used her daughter to fuel our anger. Her daughter was in high school our senior year and we competed against her. Coach never had any trouble reminding us that she was there, her mom was there, and our duty was to take her down.

I knew what he was doing. He was just trying to get us motivated, get us all hyped up and feel competitive. But it was petty. He used her daughter as a representation of how we felt for our old coach. I specifically remember he gathering us four seniors in a circle to tell us that Pam was just over there, that we would be running against her, and the greatest revenge would be to beat her. Show her mom she shouldn't have bailed on us.

And it worked. We beat her and her team. After the meets I remember him letting us know how we did. At the time it felt great, it felt like we had won. Now it just feels pathetic.

Fortunately Pam never knew that we were secretly plotting to beat her every time she showed up. Pam never knew how we were coached to specifically beat her to get our revenge. She still liked us. What happened with her mom was nothing to her. She saw as old friends – we learned to see her as an enemy.

All of this hit me as I drove out of the parking lot on home. I no longer go to LaRosa's for cross-country dinners. I no longer think highly of Coach. And now I no longer dislike Pam.

Everything has made a complete 180. And while I loved my running career in high school, today I have never been happier. The years I dreaded saying goodbye to are in the past. And I no longer miss them.