Welcome to Florida cross-country, RDP!
Standing on the starting line at Apalachee Regional Park for my first FHSAA Florida Cross Country State Championship, I felt gut-wrenchingly nervous and incredibly invincible. As a freshman and the number one runner on my team, expectations sat on my shoulders like a pound of bricks. But at the same time, I had a kind of confidence that made me think I could sass the upperclassmen (this frequently got me into some trouble haha, and it won me the nickname “Sassinator”).
My dew-soaked spikes squished in the cold, extra-trimmed grass as I shifted my weight from one leg to another. I mumbled “Get out fast. Get. Out. Fast” and watched my breath wisp into the chilly (by Floridian standards) November Tallahassee air. The megaphone startled me from my pre-race zone: “Five minutes. Five minutes until the start. Complete your final strides.” My stomach turned upside down. The final strides announcement always makes the impending fatigue feel extremely real.
I hopped up and down to make sure my legs were still feeling warm enough and patted my hands along my double braids, checking for bumps. My teammate tapped my shoulder, and I flashed her a forced smile. “You excited?” she asked. “Yeah..!” I said, believing that to be about 75% true. “Keep it simple. Just have fun out there, ok?” I exhaled loudly making on “O” with my lips, “Yeah, you too, ok?” Lightly chuckling, we set out for one last stride together and met the other five girls on our team out beyond the starting line for our huddle. We stacked our left hands on top of each other and waited for our senior captain’s cue: “SISU on 3, SISU on 3.” I prepared to make sure our cheer elicited “the look” from other teams: “1, 2, 3…SISU - HOOK IT UP!!!” We made hooks with our right index fingers and raised them straight above our heads. Linked to the same purpose of the present.
If you’re wondering what SISU is, it’s a Finnish term that roughly translates to “guts” and connotes strength, energy, and determination in the face of a demanding task that may seem crazy to undertake. Those four letters are what cross country means to me. It’s about toeing the line time and time again and approaching the crazy task with grace, energy, and guts knowing that your teammates are right there next to you doing the same.
“Runners, take THREE full steps behind the line.” I took maybe 1.5 steps back. Does anyone ever take a full three steps back? “There will be two commands: set and then the gun…Set...” I squinted into the rising sun reflecting off the open expanse of frosted grass ahead, littered with wet footprints. BAM!
I took off at what felt like a 400-meter sprint (the start of a cross-country race is an anaerobic activity). I checked to my left and right using peripheral vision and accelerated to secure my position heading into the woods. I was feeling good somehow despite having thrown up just a few hours before the race from nerves. I could still taste the banana. Yuck.
Weaving through the rolling path in the backwoods like a racecar in a video game, I found myself just a few strides from the front pack. I belong here. I am fast; I am smooth; I am confident. Up the big hill for the first time. I could hear my coach’s voice echoing…You will recover. You will recover. Use this opportunity to gain places. Up the big hill for the second time. Use your speed. No one is passing you from here on. Dig deep. I did.
I found joy in that race. In learning that I could conquer nerves and doubts about cross country. In the sweaty, shaky hugs with my teammates at the finish line. In the smile and nod from my coach as I stood on the podium receiving my 6th place medal. In the bear hug from my dad afterward. And of course, in the post-race cupcakes that someone had brought to our team tent.
When I toe the line at Apalachee Regional Park in December for the USATF Club Cross Country Championships, I’ll be the youngest on my team once again (though I won’t have braces this time around!). That’s pretty awesome though because it means that I have so much to learn from my older and “wiser” (I can’t boost their egos too much) teammates and so much racing experience ahead of me. Hopefully, I can teach them a little something about Florida cross country too...like how to dodge alligators on the course (just kidding Rita…maybe…).
Club Cross is a chance for us to race as a true team – a family – seeing how much farther we can push ourselves when we’re competing together than as individuals. It takes more than raw talent. The task requires a beautiful combination of teamwork, resilience, guts, and finding joy along the way.
We’re ready to spike up and speed up! See you soon Tallahassee.
Written by Lauren Archer