Sup Im Roy Case

My life took a different direction at the age of fourteen. Well maybe took a different direction is a tad bit exaggerated. It'd probably be more befitting to say that I gained a new realization of my character and who Roy Rogers really is. The story in the making started like this. I was in 7th grade when I decided to join the track team at O'Neill Middle School. Now don't get me wrong this whole thing didn't begin like most passionate sports stories with me watching the athlete perform on television whilst vehemently saying, "Mommy, Daddy I want to be like that famous athlete when I get older." No. It started off like any regular perspective-changing decision. A decision based off of a simple fleeting whim.

There was this big family gathering at a lodge over in Wisconsin. It was a weekend filled with high-cholesterol food, dancing, singing, shouting, and just an overall good feeling in the air. We don't get together very often, but it's energy filled jubilation when we do. That night I sat in the backyard of the cabin with various aunts, uncles, and cousins overlooking the small, calm lake as it faded with the last rays of daylight boring into it.

With a sudden interest my Auntie Twan asks me, "Do you plan to do any sports in middle school, Roy?

As with most questions that have to do with the decisions that I'll make in the future I reply hesitantly with, "I'm not sure. I'm still thinking about it."

"Well why don't you join track?!" she said.

Suddenly the backyard broke into a chorus of agreement which rose up to wash over me from the numerous members of my family that either were currently track runners at the time or had done it in high school.

"Well I'll consider it when the time comes around." I said simply to appease the still growing enthusiasm and encouragement radiating from my family.

As the end of winter rolls around in my 7th grade year so do the last few days of available sign-up for Track & Field. Now the last day to sign up was growing near. I began to think I might as well, what's the worst that could happen.

I'm dead! That's what I said the first day after practice.

That day I realized how out of shape I was and started to question why I had even joined the track team in the first place. Miraculously and stubbornly I went to the next practice and the next one after that. Until it gradually got easier and easier. I wasn't the fastest guy on the team but nevertheless I was showing great improvement. By this point I had come to like track and join it for a 2nd year during 8th grade for another successful season.

High school track was a completely different animal from what I was used to. The best way to describe it would be that everything was intensified to another level. But with this intensification my feelings for the sport also grew. Practices were harder, but my resolve to get through them and the enjoyment of pushing myself were simultaneously amplified.

Before I know it my first Invitational track meet is upon me during outdoor season! As I walk off the bus I am bombarded with the smells that accompany a track meet. Contrary to what healthy stuff should probably be at a track meet, the thick aroma of sweet grilled chicken sandwiches mixed in with greasy pepperoni pizza accompanying sizzling hot dogs fills the air. I lay down in our section of the bleachers, patiently waiting to perform in my events which will take up a small fraction of my 3½ hours spent at the meet itself.

I'm