I glanced at the boys lined up to my left and right, sporting matching blue uniforms. My teammates, but today, my competitors, all driven by the same goal - to secure a position at state. A cold gusting wind whipped over the starting line, stirring leaves into the air. As the starting gun slowly raised high into the air, a deafening silence rolled over the runners and crowd alike. Bang! The dull thud of hundreds of feet thundered against the hard earth. Nearly three hundred boys took off tearing across an open grassy field.

Before long, I flew across the line. Second place. Not only had I helped my team win the race, but I secured myself a ticket to the state meet as an alternate.

Two weeks later our team stepped off a bus at Sun Willows golf course. I couldn't help but pause and take a deep breath. This was what I had worked for; I had made it as an athlete to the most select high school cross country meet in the state.

As the race drew near, the nine of us made our way over to the start line to begin final preparations for the race. Fifteen minutes before start, our team dropped our sweats and switched into spikes. Ten minutes before, we began our strides. Seven minutes before, we were mentally prepared. I pulled my friend Josh aside and together we said a prayer, thanking God for this opportunity and that we could honor Him. As the five minute warning sounded, our top seven runners stepped up to the line. Every sense in my body was urging me to follow suit, but I was an alternate.

It felt wrong to stand ten feet behind the line, watching as my teammates took their positions. A familiar deafening silence swept across the athletes and spectators alike, the calm before the storm. Then “Bang!” the booming echo of the starting gun, the thunder of feet hitting the ground, the roar of the crowd. The urge to take off sprinting consumed my body. Pushing down the calling, I reached down, grabbed the team’s sweats, and started walking back to the team tent, lost in my longing to race.

I watched as my teammate, and fellow alternate, Andrew, started jogging back to the tent. To be honest, I didn’t feel like jogging. I was too overwhelmed with the emotions of not taking part in what could have been the largest race of my career. Reluctantly, I followed. After dropping off the sweats, we jogged over to the fenceline to cheer on our teammates. I couldn’t help but feel happy for them, recognizing all the hard work and effort that we had put in as a team to get to this point. As my teammates crossed the finish line, we celebrated together. I realized that even though I didn’t post a score, I had still made an impact.

After the meet, on the bus ride home, it dawned on me that this truth could be applied to more than just this situation. I realized that in my life, I often had a habit of dwelling on my mistakes and underachievements. In reality, I recognized that by learning from my experiences, focusing on present opportunities and planning for the future, I would find true resilience. In only a couple of weeks, I had gone from a JV runner, dreaming of competing with the best, to a varsity alternate on the cusp of racing on the highest high school stage. Though my dreams of scoring for my team at state had not yet been realized, my training and hard work had yielded results, and I had set myself up to reach my goals in the future. In that moment, I understood the American experience is often about showing up, contributing quietly, and believing effort today builds opportunity tomorrow.

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