As my alarm goes off and I shift my eyes from side to side I can feel a deep, throbbing pain inside my head. It\u2019s four in the morning and I\u2019m huddled inside my sleeping bag, the only thing below me is a damp tarp and the only thing above is the stars still in the sky. I take a deep breath in hopes of halting the welling tears from pouring out. \u2018Nomi. Do not be such a baby,\u2019 I chide myself. I kick out my legs, feeling my muscles twinge as they make contact with the cold part of my sleeping bag that\u2019s been denied any body heat. I slowly sit up, gulping in frigid air. Today is day 3 of the Headwaters Relay, a 220 mile running relay through the Gravelly Mountains. In the days prior I had logged 18 miles all at paces faster than I\u2019d run so far that summer. My legs hurt to touch, my arches are home to two incredibly tender blisters, and my mental fortitude is being tested like never before.<\/p>\n I pull myself from my sleeping bag and put on my shoes so I can walk a couple hundred feet to go to the bathroom. I squat down in time to hear a crack in the branch I had placed my foot on. My foot falls to the ground and my entire body follows suit. Tears well, my head pounds, and it takes absolutely everything in me to keep my eyes open. \u2018Nomi, you\u2019re okay. You got this. Get up,\u2019 the internal voice instructs me. I place my palms on the cold dirt and push myself back up, go to the bathroom, and head back to camp.<\/p>\n We fold up the tarp, shovel cinnamon apple oatmeal into our mouths, and pile into the truck, heading to the start of my leg. As we rumble down the road I can just barely see the sun poking up from behind the hillside. I watch the light trace its way through the clouds and a smile creeps across my face. I try to put into perspective what I\u2019m doing. I get to wake up next to my best friends, run all day through the mountains, and be lulled to sleep by the hush of a quiet wind. I have a body that is strong and a mind that\u2019s even stronger and here I am doing what I love.<\/p>\n That day I ran ten and a half miles and finished the relay with my team. That weekend showed me how strong I could be in the face of both an extreme mental and physical challenge. It pushed me deep into the pain cave, secluded me to just my thoughts, and allowed me to see how truly capable I am.<\/p>\n To me, that\u2019s what running is all about. No other activity pushes you to your absolute limit while still allowing you to do what you love the most. Running has given me my favorite sport, my best friends, and an unbridled appreciation for being alive. I know when I show up to practice I will be greeted by the smiles of my teammates, a witty joke from Coach Casey, and just a couple anxious butterflies as I start to warm up for hard intervals.<\/p>\n So, when asked what running means to me, I believe it\u2019s not the times, the races, or the splits, but rather the community, the grit, and the smiles that are direct results of the time we spend pushing ourselves to be stronger. I will forever cherish the memories I\u2019ve made during my career as a Hawk, and I will never stop pursuing the joy I get from going out on a run.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n Kimball Smith \u2013 Park High<\/strong><\/p>\n Running holds a special place in my heart, far beyond just putting one foot in front of the other. To me, running is a way of life, a journey filled with challenges, pushing yourlimits, triumphs, self-discovery, and connecting with a community. It all began as a littlechild; in my family we have a tradition called the Smith Family Marathon. Every year since I was two years old my dad has run an independent self-supported marathon from out thefront door of our house. Our job as kids was to cheer for him as loud as we could along theway. We always had a finish line across our driveway and made him a finishers metal. AsI\u2019ve grown older and began to run alongside him, I\u2019ve noticed how much commitment thistradition has required for my dad. Over the years the family marathon has evolved toinclude most of the family for some distance of the run. One memory I have was when mydad and I drove 26.2 miles up a dusty dirt road in the farm hills above our ranch and ranback to the cabin. At the end of the run, I asked him why he does it. He said, “the reasoncontinue to do this tradition is to show you kids that you can do hard things.\u201d This struckme as he is nearing 50 years old. My dad has always led by his example and has inspiredme to do hard things.<\/p><\/div>\n What Running Means to Me By the middle of winter freshman year, I was putting in more mileage than I thought possible, and I was loving it. Then I lost it all. I suffered a severe partial tear in my right calf due to overuse. For weeks I could barely walk, let alone run, and by the time track season rolled around (almost 3 months later) I still was unable to run. Running was something that I had always taken for granted, until it was suddenly stripped away. My mental health began to suffer severely, and I realized that running had been a form of therapy as much as it was a sport. Running was an escape, it gave me freedom. It also allowed me to push the limits of my determination and perseverance as I strove to recover in time to race at the last few meets of the season. I held a new appreciation for every run and every step in my recovery.<\/p>\n Over the next two years, I lost sight of running as a form of freedom. I became blinded by my goals and the pressure that I felt from everyone around me. It came from my parents, my coaches, my teammates, my teachers. But most of all, it came from myself. I was expected to continue leading the team and PRing in races, and so I did, until at the end of my junior year I earned All-State Honors at the AA State Cross Country Meet. Of course, I was thrilled. But at the same time I knew I couldn’t race another season the same way I had the last three years. I was mentally exhausted, and each race caused an immense amount of anxiety that I would let people down. For a while, I stopped running entirely. I didn\u2019t attend winter training or participate in the next track season. I was scared to run again. Running had changed from something that lessened my anxiety and had become the main source of my anxiety. I missed the freedom that running had once brought, but I was afraid that if I started running again it would no longer bring the same freedom that it once had.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/winddrinkers.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/05\/Nomi-Friedman-photo.jpeg\")
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\nIt was the day of the time trial. I warmed up with the rest of the girls\u2019 team, and found that I wasn\u2019t as nervous as I thought I might be. After all, I was just a freshman. No one expected anything from me, there was no pressure to perform well. I lined up, closer to the back of the pack, at the makeshift start line. Our coach gave us the \u201cGo!\u201d command, and we took off. Instantly I felt like I could go faster, so I squeezed through the group in front of me and found myself directly behind a couple of seniors who were in the front. I knew I could run faster than this, but I wasn\u2019t sure if I was allowed to pass the upperclassmen. After a few seconds, I decided to pass them and ended up finishing the time trial in first place. I was shocked! At most, I had been hoping to run in the sixth or seventh varsity position at the first meet, but here I was leading the team!<\/p>\n