I’ll never forget the moment I found out that our cross country teams qualified for State. It felt like my heart was a balloon that lifted me off the ground and took hours to finally return to solid ground. I jumped around with pure joy. I embraced every member on the team, my coaches, my family and my boyfriend. I couldn’t believe I was a part of the first Whitney team to ever qualify for the big California State Meet.

The race that determined if we qualified for State or not was the greatest race of my running career. I finished in sixth place with a time of 19:18, 45 seconds faster than my time last year. Mile after mile, I felt alive, upbeat and positive. Usually, people don’t feel all that great when they’re running as fast as they can for three miles straight, but this race was different, and I loved every second of it.

Leading my girls’ team to State is the best running achievement I’ve ever accomplished. At my side was my good friend Nathan Wellington, proudly leading the boys.

The drive down was nothing compared to our trip down to Los Angeles for MT. SAC, another huge meet. I would take the drive to Fresno over LA traffic any day. Despite the fact my family and I were rushed out the door due to the tradition of buying our Christmas tree, we arrived the night before, and naturally, ran the course for our shakeout run. Being stuck in the car for several hours can affects the legs, so we run after long drives to prevent “jello legs”. As I jogged with my hyper fellow female runners, I noticed the odd variety of terrain. One moment it’s dirt, the next it’s grass, then cement, then dirt again. I kept thinking, “This is THE State course? Shouldn’t it be… nicer?” I pushed those thoughts aside and replaced them with positive ones about how I still couldn’t believe I was actually there.
After  filling up on bread sticks and pasta with the team and their families at Olive Garden, I returned to my hotel room for a long runner’s nap, only to be woken by a dumb alarm clock. Fog filled the air and added an unnecessary heavy feeling on my stomach. It churned with worry and nervousness, but at the same time, excitement.

Breakfast was quick and once my family piled into the gold Honda Pilot filled with endless amounts of runner gear, we were on our way.

Oh, the amount of anxiety inside me was overbearing! I felt nauseous and jittery, but once I hopped out of the car and began jogging with my running inspiration, my dad, my symptoms cleared. He helped me relax with tips only a runner could understand.

“Deep breaths. I want you to bolt out. Not too fast, not too slow. Start in 40th place. Move your way up from there. I’m expecting you to finish in the 20s.”

Then my coach arrived, who also added some comments.

“There’s some hills out there. Up on your toes. POP! POP! POP! Be efficient. Don’t waste any of that energy. You know how to manage it, but don’t let the adrenaline ruin it for you.”

The morning was a blur. I relaxed, shot some photos of the boys’ race, greeted my grandparents, greeted my boyfriend and his family, and watched Sarah Baxter, a junior who runs at Simi Valley, race. Baxter has won the State meet since freshman year, and this year, she did it again. She also set the state record with a time of 16:40. Watching that race was one of the highlights of the day.

Finally, the big moment came. After warming up, my girls and I made our way to the start line. We said our pre-race prayer and ran some strides. Then, it was time.

“On your mark… Set… POW!”

A huge mass of 180 girls swarmed the starting chute. Being small, I felt threatened. I lost vision of my fellow teammates. I tried to estimate where I was. After several minutes, I heard my dad’s voice above the crowd.

“YOU’RE IN 80TH PLACE!”

“SHOOT!” says the voice inside my head. “Eighty doesn’t sound like 40.”

The rest of the race was pure struggle. With a group that size, it’s nearly impossible to make substantial moves, especially when 100 girls are all within 45 seconds of each other.

I kept surging, taking corners tight and powering up hills. I was pumped, thinking I was in at least 60th now. After a few more minutes, I hear my dad’s voice again.

“YOU’RE IN 75TH PLACE!”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

At this point, I was getting tired. I no longer cared about place. I just wanted to finish with a strong time. I wished I felt the same way I did at the previous meet. But nothing changed. I was dying, and I was dying a slow, painful, runner’s death.

I don’t remember much about the last mile of the race. All I know is my dad kept screaming at me to move up, but my legs would not allow me to do so.

I finished the race in 64th place with a time 19:20. I didn’t reach any of my goals. I even collapsed with exhaustion after the race. My running partner, Megan Hall, helped me up and escorted me out of the finish chute. I was so frustrated that I didn’t race well, but I was congratulated by my family, grandparents, coaches, teammates and their families, my boyfriend and his family. That helped me feel much better.

In the end, it didn’t matter what place I was or what time I did. It didn’t matter that I almost threw up on the finish line when I saw the clock glaring down at me with a slower time than what I was hoping for. All that mattered was that I was there, and my team was there with me.

by JENICA DODGE