My Big Break
In high school, I was cut from the softball team. This was sad enough, but it was even worse because I was the only person cut from the team. Which implied they had enough room, they just really didn’t want me.
This came to me as a surprise. I had played a lot of pitch and catch with my Dad and he had told me I had a “good arm.” But I found out in tryouts that a baseball was very different than a softball, and although I could throw a softball very hard, I couldn’t aim it.
About the third time my throw narrowly missed the coach’s face, she decided to cut me. She said, “Lauren, I love your enthusiasm, but I am afraid you will hurt someone or yourself.”
I was devastated. I had wanted so badly to make the team because I wanted to be good at something. At the time, I believed self-esteem needed to be earned, and I hadn’t done anything to feel anything other than crappy about myself.
But I didn’t give up on sports because I had seen a movie called Cool Runnings where a group of unlikely Jamaican men come together, form a bobsled team, and make it all the way to the Olympics. In my mind, I was the Jamaican bobsled team. I just hadn’t found the sport I was talented yet, but I was bond to find one if I kept trying. I would succeed against all odds!
When I heard that the track team didn’t make any cuts, I thought to myself, this could be it. Maybe I’m a runner!
Flash forward to the first race of my first track meet, which was held indoors because I grew up in Buffalo and it was snowing outside. I’m very nervous, standing at the starting line. I look up at the balcony above me and saw my Dad and hundreds of other students looking down at me. Then I looked at the other runners. They all seemed much more fit than me and like they had a lot more self-esteem than me. I thought of the pep talk that was in Cool Runnings: I see pride, I see power, I see a badass mother who won’t take no crap from nobody!
Then the gun went off and I started sprinting. I was flying. The other girls were soon far behind me. I thought, this is amazing! I’m finally good at something!
I rounded the corner and could see the finish line. I could feel the girls catching up on me. I decided to go into “turbo speed” and I clenched my butt and went faster and managed to cross the finish line just in time-- to hear my coach say, “nine more laps Allen.” Because I was running the mile event.
The other girls soon passed me because they knew something about pacing themselves. I desperately hustled trying to catch up. But then I felt it: a sharp stabbing pain in my right side. I was getting a horrible cramp. I raised my arm to stretch it, but it didn’t get better. So, I just kept my arm up like a chicken wing.
The girls began to lap me. For two laps, three laps, four laps, five laps, six laps, I was just falling further and further behind and chicken winging. My coach was standing at the starting line to count laps and looked increasingly angry at me every time I passed him.
Partway through my sixth lap all the other girls had finished. I was alone on the track. But I was determined to finish with dignity. I thought of the dramatic conclusion to Cool Runnings, when the bobsled turns over at the Olympics. The men didn’t give up, no, they lifted the sled and carried it across the finish line, heads held high. I was determined to do the same.
But when I rounded the corner towards the finish line again, I saw my coach walking away. He had given up on me.
And that is when I started to cry. I was all alone on the track and I thought about my Dad and all the other kids looking down on me, judging me. I was stupid for trying. I was a failure. I would never be good at anything.
This was a really long lap. By the time I came by the finish line again, I had forgotten which lap I was on. I saw a woman and asked, “Which lap am I on?”
“I think you’ve done enough,” she replied.
So, I sadly came off the track, prematurely. I went upstairs to see my Dad. He gave me a big hug and said, “good effort!”
And that is when I made my big break into mediocrity. Because I realized that neither my Dad nor the other kids really cared that I was slow. And I actually liked running. I realized that just because I’m not good at something, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.
I never found a sport that I was good as the Jamaican Bobsled team at, but I still run, and it brings me joy just to jog slowly. And now when I look into the mirror, I can say to myself, “I see pride, I see power, and I see a woman who is fabulously average.”