Running in the Rain

I've been athletic my whole life. Naturally talented, too. In my heart I know that if I really wanted to be, I could have been great. Made it to the Olympics playing softball or basketball. Made my daddy's dream come true. Sports came easily. I didn't have to practice, I was just good. I walked on to three different teams without trying out. In 5th grade every person in the school knew my name because I was the best player on the team. The one who could beat the 6th grade team, too. Boys and girls. I was never proud about it though. I don't like to boast. But I was good, and winning was something I've always liked doing. The competition fueled me. When I played sports nothing else mattered. I left everything on the court and the field. The world made perfect sense there.

My depression and eating disorders got the best of me though. I destroyed my body and along the way I lost the fight in me. I felt so empty in life that I allowed it to take over the only thing I had left. I didn't practice like I should have. I didn't perform as well as I could have. I didn't see the point any more. I stopped playing my sophomore year of high school. It was a dumb move. My heart still aches thinking about it. My former teammates would invite me to their games and I never went. I couldn't. Watching them play without me hurt. So I tried to forget about it. Put it past me. But it's just another thing I buried.

I still have pretty damn good reflexes. I can still shoot a three, and make a perfect throw from short or anywhere else on the field for that matter. I'll always be able to catch. But that raw talent is undeveloped. And at 21, it's too late to do much. I'm terribly out of shape and I don't push myself anymore because thinking about how I allowed myself to be like this bothers me. But as I sat at home today thinking about so much and not having a single person to talk to I felt the desire to run. I felt the need to find my glove and throw the ball in the air. I felt the urge to play basketball at the park down the street. And at about 7:30 tonight I put my hoodie on, tied my shoes and went running in the rain. I ran until my lungs hurt and then I yelled at myself in my mind to keep on running. The rain dripped from my bangs into my eyes and made them burn underneath my contacts but I kept on running. I ran, and I ran. When I reached my house again and stopped I felt a little like collapsing. But all I could do was smile because I felt something else, too.

I felt alive.