Growing up I was always a fast runner. As a kid I had some awesome black and neon green Nikes, and honestly thought they'd make me run faster. My siblings and I grew up in the country land, so I was always running all over the yard, to the pond, and of course to the bus before I missed it. The bus driver always mentioned to my mom throughout the years how I'm going to be a track legend.
7th grade came. I was finally able to join track! I remember one of my first races was the kind where you pass the baton to the next person and so on. There were four in each group. I was so nervous! 2nd to last runner, I grabbed the baton and took off. Passed up everybody in front of me and felt amazing! As I go to pass the baton my partner grabbed it too tightly and too fast causing me to crash...onto the track...and slam down on my face. Looking like an idiot.
However, this didn't stop me from running. I kept on keeping on. 8th grade came and I eventually quit. Started smoking cigarettes, and gained some weight. I do regret this, highly regret this! Knowing I could have been a great sprinter is something I always keep in mind.