Jillian begins her track career in fifth grade with the help of a running guide and a tether.
“Come on, Jillian! You can do it,” my dad shouted from the sidelines! I see crowds of people, smiling and clapping. My running partner, however, sees looks of shock, hearing fans ask as I pass, “Who’s that? Shouldn’t Jhe be running with the boys?”
“Stay to the left of the trash can.” I hear my guide say. I do as he instructs, for I can only see a blurry blue figure coming up on my right.
About five minutes later, I see the finish line. The sound of people cheering gets louder by the second. “She’s going so fast!” I hear someone say as I am coming up the hill for the big sprint. Although I feel like I am going to faint from exhaustion, I give it my all. The start and the finish are the most important parts of running, I had learned. I always finish strong.
I would not be on the Thompson Cross Country team right now if it had not been for the Great Race. It is a road race that takes place every year in Middletown, New Jersey.
It was October 22, 2012. I was in fifth grade. The day was like an open road. I looked out onto that road, wondering what the journey would be like, and if I could get to the end unharmed.
“What time is the race?” I asked.
“2:30,” my dad answered. “Your Aunt Kathy is going to be your sighted guide.”
Being legally blind, I have to have someone guide me through the race. The guide has to use a tether, a fancy name for a rope. I hold one end of the tether while the guide holds the other. The guide has to go ahead of me so that he or she could call out obstacles to avoid. I did it once before, but I was still new to it. I had hardly ever run in crowded conditions, and this would be the day.
“You think I’ll be able to run the course today?” I asked tentatively.
“Of course you will!” my dad said reassuringly. “Speaking of which, we have to head over there really soon."
“Hussle people, move it!” my mom ordered. “It’s a quarter after one!” She usually acts like a commander whenever I have to be somewhere at a certain time.
We got to the course way ahead of time, almost an hour beforehand. My Aunt Kathy met up with us with her four kids. My Uncle B, just getting there himself, trailed behind them. He was yet another supporter who came to watch me run.
After eating lunch only minutes prior, Aunt Kathy and I stretched. We did all the basic exercises, the toe reach, quad stretch, lunges, and all of that.
It was ages before it was my turn to run.
There was a whole crowd of people that signed up for the Great Race for my age group. Aunt Kathy and I decided to be in the back so that we did not get trampled. The course was a little challenging for a newcomer like me. It started at the top of a road that was a long, massive hill, then people run down, go back up that same hill, and finish with a loop around the track. It was about a mile in length. Manageable, yet it looked hard.
I stared out at the seemingly infinite amount of kids in front of me. I looked at the gradual downhill, the unfamiliar course, filled with people shoulder to shoulder on the sidelines. What was I getting myself into? What if I bump into somebody? What if I trip or get hurt?
Other kids had fallen on that very road just recently, scraped knees and arms, possibly blood on their hands. I was also extremely sensitive to sound, which I also still am. I wore earplugs that block out the sound, but some sounds could be so boisterous that I still have to cover my ears! What if all the cheering is too much for me? Will I get startled when the gun goes off? I held onto my side of the tether tighter now, hoping that everything was going be alright.
In my mind’s eye, I saw myself running on the flat track behind my house. I spent countless hours on it, my dad teaching me how to run only a year ago. My Orientation and Mobility Instructor told us about the tether one day. “Doesn’t that seem a little dangerous, honey?” my mom had questioned my dad. “If Jillian trips, that means you’re falling down too!”
“I do see your concern, Mrs. Milton,” the Orientation and Mobility Instructor assured, “but I will guarantee that it will not happen under my watch. If Jillian does happen to slip, she will learn to let go of the tether and use her hands to break her fall.”
I did learn that, but the track was much softer than the road that I stood on today. I learned a lot of other things about tethers as well, and Aunt Kathy caught on quickly to the idea of using it.
I jumped when Aunt Kathy brought me back to reality. “You’ll do great, trust me,” she calmed my nerves just a little.
“Thanks,” I said. “You do this all the time I bet, don’t you?”
“Yup, that’s right! And since I’m so experienced, I’ll teach you a few pointers as we’re running, and I’ll keep you safe.”
Aunt Kathy was an elite runner. She does Iron Mans, half and whole marathons, just about anything that has to do with running, she can do it. After whatever race Aunt Kathy completes, she still has energy to run more! A mile was like doing the fifty yard dash for her.
I could not believe it. She seemed so confident, so knowledgeable, and I longed to be like her. I smiled. I knew that I could trust Aunt Kathy, no matter how crazy the situation may be.
“It’s what I was born to do.” she concluded and wrapped her arm around me.
Right then I heard the announcer say, “Set...go!” I waited for the gunshot, ready to run from the noise.
“BOOM!”
I knew those earplugs were working that day because I did not flinch one bit. We took off.
“See those other kids?” Aunt Kathy asked, breathing normally.
“Yeah,” I replied, winded already.
“They’re running at full speed down the hill! Don’t do that. You’ll use all your energy in one shot.”
“That’s good to know.” I cracked. How could Aunt Kathy talk while running. I was conditioned, but not well enough for me to talk as I ran.
“I learned it the hard way!” Aunt Kathy said. “Also, try to stay at one pace, not fast but not slow.”
And that was precisely what we did. Until we were stopped by a wall of kids, that is.
“What do we do?” I asked, attempting to catch my breath.
“Try to pass them, I guess,” Aunt Kathy suggested, “but that’s the best we can do.”
After pushing and shoving our way through the wall, without colliding into anybody, we made our way up to the track. I was feeling tired, but Aunt Kathy pushed me to keep going. She had to let me finish first, or else I would be disqualified. Running behind me now, Aunt Kathy let me finish the race on my own. The finish line was getting closer by the second, like it would be again and again a year later. I heard my family encourage me to keep going. They were chanting my name, whooing and shouting. I sprinted and sprinted. “Eye of the Tiger” was playing triumphantly as I crossed the finish line. Grinning from ear to ear, I raised my arms in victory, waving to the spectators. I finished with a time of about 11 minutes.
My family was so proud of me! I even surprised myself! I did not get hurt and the sound did not bother me at all
After I ran the race, I stayed to watch my dad, Aunt Kathy, and Uncle B run the 5K. As I saw the people coming around the track, there was one young man who competed in a wheelchair. His arms pushed himself along and he had no assistance. He did not let his disability stop him. He was an inspiration to me!
“Dad, could I do cross country next year?” I asked, hoping he would allow it.
“Absolutely!” my dad said, not hesitating one bit.
At the end of the day, my family was watching a slide-show that my dad put together of all the pictures he took of the race. I felt a sense of pride. Even though I had used the tether technique before, I had never run in those conditions. This opened up a whole new sport for me and a whole new world of roads to travel on.
Jillian, New Jersey
Written in 8th grade
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