I found my foot often landing in unfamiliar territory due to my program, class, and color. In those spaces, I have dealt with pain, heartbreak, and loss that put me through the ringer. There were many moments at which I could have stopped, given up or turned back on you because of the discomfort I faced, but that’s not what you taught me.

I imagine a fine line exists between comfort and discomfort that few are willing to cross because it’s taxing on the mind. You introduced me to a culture—or a family, rather—of people that toe that line everyday just for fun. Together, we take deep breaths over that line. We lean into it. And when the gun goes off, we embrace it with a sound mind and body.

We do this because we know it’s doing more than just making us better athletes, it’s making us better people. It requires a certain degree of discipline, attention to detail, and self-awareness that translates beautifully into other areas of life. I found it easier to challenge myself academically, relationally and spiritually. It wasn’t so scary anymore to be the only representation of my program, school, or race in a particular space. And it wasn’t so scary anymore to stand up for what I believe in.

When I first toe the line to race, many thoughts come to mind. Some inconsequential like “So what am I going to eat later?” or “I wonder how long the bus ride will be?” and others a bit more existential like “I wonder what this race will mean to me in twenty years?” or “I wonder how long I’ll be doing this [running] for?”

I know you will not last forever. An end exists somewhere in the unforeseeable future. Until then, I’ll have to embrace the present moment and enjoy the ride. You should know the community and culture you’ve introduced me to will be your legacy.