How I Learned To Love Running... For Life

A month before my first day of ninth grade, my mom knocked on my bedroom door and asked me if I had thought about which sport I’d be going out for.

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Without hesitation, I replied I’d be trying out for cheerleading. Hello, like it was even a question.

Never mind that I had zero experience in cheer. And zero rhythm, for that matter. But I was convinced cheering would propel me to instant popularity, something I placed tons of value in as a naive incoming freshman.

At tryouts, I fumbled my way through the fight chant, blew the choreographed dance and did a few wobbly round-offs before the cheer captain tapped me on the shoulder and told me I hadn’t made the first cut. I went home crushed, convinced high school was over before it even began.

That night, my mom came to my room again. This time, she offered her sympathy and a simple suggestion. “Sarah, you should try cross-country,” she said, passing me a box of tissues. “I think you’ll really love running.”