Running was the only sport I ever wanted to try.  I thought running would help get noticed, at least to a certain degree.  I had anxiety about starting conversations so I often thought if I could win at something, maybe people would want to talk to me; that they would want to get to know me.  Otherwise, I really didn’t even know what to say to people and everything got very awkward.   

 At about the time I thought sports were not going to help me go anywhere, I fell into running.  Literally.  I was walking home from school cursing my sister for forgetting again to pick me up when I belatedly noticed the runners running toward me.  I tried to scuffle out of their way when I caught my toe on a crack in the sidewalk.  Luckily, I fell directly into the grass and I think my pride was more injured than the knee I landed on. 

I let all the runners go by before even trying to get up.  There was no way to be graceful after tripping over an almost nonexistent crack in the sidewalk.  When I heard the dozens of feet pound by, I finally decided to pull myself together and continue my slog home.  But when I looked up, a runner was there offering a hand.  Her gesture was the kindest thing anyone had done for me in the last six months and I knew I wanted to be a part of her team.