It’s officially a spooky season! On the 29th of October the LRHS cross country team will be doing two Halloween themed nature walks. The first of these walks, the kid friendly Spooky Stroll, will be from 4:00-5:30 PM. The Haunted Walk will be from 6:00-8:00 PM.
In addition to the walks there will also be other activities including games, face painting and food. Parking and admission will be at the middle school. Admission is 5 dollars and children under 3 years old get in free. This sounds like a lot of fun so definitely attend if you are able. For any more information check the flyer below. - Greg Heart beating, sweating so much that I begin to feel like ooze, I run. I run as fast as I can from the darkness just inches behind me, slowly gaining ground, threatening to swallow me whole. The dark mass behind me is not tangible. It exists as my fear, my doubt, my failure. It is all on me. No one else can make me run faster than I can. Only I can control my mentality.
It began as a hot day, so warm that my skin burnt up at the touch. I chugged my water, hoping to wean off the dehydration as the cross-country race approached. The night before, my teammates and I were told that our race in Sacopee had been canceled due to the heat wave that had already been plaguing our area for a week. However, my coach was able to schedule a race in Fryeburg that night, so the race was still on, just in a different place! This was going to be my first race back after healing my calf injury. I strained the muscle when I jumped over a laptop charger, rushing to see my athletic trainer before the bus that would bring us to our meet in Gray, Maine, left. It was now a week later. Despite the heat, I was ready to run. The further the day progressed, the more animosity rose within me. Finally, it was time to get on the bus. I walked outside the school, donning my gray, blue, and yellow Lake Region Cross Country uniform with matching blue shorts. Everyone, and I mean everyone, complained about how uncomfortable they were. My friend Sadie was by my side, per usual. Her hair is brown like dark chocolate, with fair skin and hazel eyes. Kindness emanates from her heart, and can be heard in her laughter. Sadie is one of my best friends, and I’m proud to admit it. We load the equipment onto the bus. That includes a tent, a cooler of ice-cold, wet towels, a cooler of near-frozen water bottles, a med kit that has never been much use to us (and hopefully never will be), and a box containing foam rollers, stick rollers, and lacrosse balls. The team of around twenty Lakers loads onto the bus, and off we go. The bus ride to Fryeburg was fun. Lucian, a tall, red-headed boy a year younger than me with a joyous laugh and a unique sense of humor, played music from his speaker. My friends and I sat in the back of the bus like we always do. Our few excited voices filled the mostly empty tin can. Lucian loves to freestyle over music about different members of the team. It never makes sense, but it’s always funny. He once sang about Dom, a boy with thick, curly hair and a shy smile. He sang, “Dom pulled up to the mall, looked at the girl, hoped she didn’t fall”. See? Doesn’t quite make sense. It was so chaotic that worrying about the race became next to impossible. One of my favorite things about the team is that they’re so distracting and hilarious that everything seems funny. By the time we arrived at the academy, it felt as though only ten minutes had passed, even though it had been thirty. We stopped across the street to use the restrooms because, at the course site, the only option was a hot, humid, smelly porta-potty that had been used a million times and would probably be used a million more. Walking into the school, I felt like an outsider. There’s something about the looks you get when you enter a school you do not attend. It was intimidating. Our group was in and out within five minutes. Then, we began our descent to the field. With coolers and bags in hand, my teammates and I quickly crossed the street. We began our walk down the side of Main Street. It was somewhat humiliating if I’m being honest- walking in front of who knows how many cars when we could’ve easily driven down. To provide some context, our bus driver, a middle-aged man with short gray hair and a large nose whose name I did not know, got angry about the bathroom stop and refused to drive us the rest of the way. I did not know his name and most likely never will. Last spring, he drove the boys’ tennis team to Cape Elizabeth for a match. My classmate, Brady, was on the bus. Brady is short, with long brown hair and small glasses. He was one of the tennis team’s second doubles players. On that day, I stood outside of the bus in the parking lot looking into the grimy windows before the bus chugged out of the parking lot and headed an hour and a half away. As I was looking at the team, the bus driver approached me. He pointed towards Brady’s hair with a greedy smile on his face and said, “Why is there a girl on the bus?”. He giggled like a child being tickled would. I was shocked and didn’t know what to say. It was just strange and insensitive. I guess I am not used to adults acting that way. Ever since then, I’ve thought much differently of him. He became childlike to me. That odd experience has shaped my views on him significantly. In fact, that has happened with quite a few people in my life, and I’m almost certain it has in your life, too. Odd things like that can happen without a moment’s notice. When we reached the field, it was around 2:30 p.m., just two hours before the race commander uttered the two most anxiety-sparking words known to humanity: “Set, go!”. Despite this, I felt ready to go, anxiously sipping water and awaiting the start of the race. We started the course walk at around 3:30 p.m. after getting our race bibs attached and setting up what we would call home for the next two hours. The first half mile of the course was designed around the large, gray barn now used as storage for Fryeburg Academy's rock-climbing facility. There was only one hill, and thankfully, it was in the shed. We began walking a straight path, headed for a large, open meadow. Little did I know, the flat, angelic area I was seeing would be one of the most difficult mental challenges I face as a runner. The coaches did not walk us around the field because 1) it would take over 45 minutes, time we did not have, and 2) they did not want us to see how big the field was (I found this news out after the race). “Seems pretty nice”, I said to my teammate Riley, an old childhood friend with straight brown hair and large, brown doe eyes. “Yeah, this looks like a nice course!”, she said. If only it wasn't so hot, I thought. It was at 20 minutes pre-race that our team started our warm-up run through what little shade there was. I began sweating bullets, suddenly becoming nervous about the race ahead. What if I am too dehydrated and have to drop? I thought. Somehow reading my mind, Abigail, our fastest runner with hair that was untamable at times, but beautiful, with a caring smile, said, “We’re going to do great today, do not worry!”. Silently, I was shocked, wondering if I had muttered my thoughts aloud. But then, I realized that everyone else probably went through similar emotions and thoughts. The few who overcame those thoughts were the strong, and I strived to be one of the few. About 15 minutes later, my teammates and I were on the starting line. Despite the heat, I was as cool as a cucumber. With my eyes on the edge of the shady forest, I wait for the starting gun to go off. To my surprise, a man with a couple of tattoos and a red mullet comes to the starting line with an old, gray iPhone. He tells us two things: “The commands will be, set, and go. Have fun today ladies!”. I realized I had become distracted. I shifted my gaze back towards the forest and got ready to run. When the announcer yelled go, he pressed a button on his phone that made a horn noise. It surprised me and made me laugh just a bit on the inside. These races were so small that quirky things like an iPhone airhorn were normal. I start somewhat slow, still testing out my calf, making sure there are no aches and pains. The last thing I want to do is reinjure myself. At the same time, it was freeing to feel the sharp air racing in and out of my lungs and to hear the pounding of my legs over the grass and gravel. I felt alive. I realized during the race that I had taken my ability to run for granted. However, seeing the girls in front of me, I felt tired and wanted to give up. At times like this, I hear my teammate Michael’s voice telling me not to give up. Michael, a short, class clown with a bowl cut and brown eyes, has been working hard this season and improving immensely, so I know what he says is true. With this internal motivation, I kept chugging along. Once I made it out of the woods, I began the treacherous journey through the meadow. It was too hot. That was the first thing I noticed. My body perspired so heavily that I felt my body could evaporate, too. I saw about ten girls ahead of me. The girl in first place was, undoubtedly, my amazing friend Abigail. I've never questioned her capabilities. She is talented and fast. I set my eyes straight ahead on two girls from Yarmouth. One was short, with straight, blond hair gathered in a low pony and large glasses with black frames. The other was much taller, almost twice the blond girl's height! She had dark, wavy hair and very defined leg muscles. Slowly, I gained on them. My heart was pounding, and when my side began to ache, I got worried. My thoughts went from competitive to self-deprecating. Within a matter of seconds, I began to tell myself that I was not enough, and soon after that, I rounded the corner of the field, revealing thrice as many fields as I had expected. I felt like Chris McCandless, alone in the great wilderness. Instead of using this discouragingly large field to make myself feel bad, I took it as an opportunity to connect with my body and mind. The heat wave could not remove the green pine and thick green grass. I distracted myself. Before I knew it, I passed the blond Yarmouth girl. Now, I was next to the taller girl. We finally made it out of the field and back onto the half-mile loops the remainder of the race consisted of. My breath became heavy, and my legs felt tired. I kept pushing. The dark-haired Yarmouth runner and I were neck and neck as we rounded the last corner that led to the rocky downhill just three or four hundred meters from the finish line. She laboriously exclaimed to me, "I'm about to hurl". I replied, "Me too". Neither of us ended up vomiting. It seems as though runners have a strange way of bonding. Knowing that this girl was on my side, I felt stronger. I didn’t even care if I beat her. My body flew down the hill. I emerged from the forest striding, legs kicking, heart throbbing, sweat dripping in my eyes. I heard the sounds of my coaches encouraging me. I ran through the finish line. The athletic trainer stopped me and squeezed cold water on the back of my neck. Relief washed over my body. I began to weep. The tears were salty, just like my sweat. They were tears of happiness and accomplishment. Despite the cards being stacked against me, I finished the race and found a new way to stay present when I faced challenges. My appreciation for running grew that day. I did not do as well as I possibly could, but I felt alive again after not running for some time. Now, every time I lace up my sneakers, I feel grateful to sweat profusely and beat up my joints. I feel like a true runner. - Susie A new club is starting at LRHS! The first meeting for the LRHS Book Club will be held after school on Thursday, October 5th. The meeting will be from 2:00-3:00 pm in the library and is run by Mr. and Mrs. Oren. Due to its newness, the Book Club does not currently have the funds to buy every club member individual books. To remedy this, the members of the club will pick a theme and select their own book based on that theme. I doubt that I am alone in saying I’m incredibly excited for this new club! If you have any questions about the club you can contact Mr. or Mrs. Oren through email.
- Greg |
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