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To the Runner Who Doubts Themselves: You Are Not Defined by One Race

Published by
ILXCTF - Mike Newman   Sep 21st 2017, 4:30pm
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By Rachel Hickey

LaSalle-Peru HS

 

In May of 2016, I won my first state title in the 800 Meter Run. One year later, at the same meet, I felt as if I had hit rock bottom. Over the course of one year, I experienced a wide variety of emotions because of the sport I am truly passionate about. At one point in time, I had lost my love of running, and I had even questioned my reasons for continuing. 

My name is Rachel Hickey, a senior at La Salle-Peru High School in a small town of LaSalle in Illinois. Recently I have been thinking back on my high school running career and felt the need to tell my story. So, to anyone who will listen, I present to you my personal journey that is my prep career and what I have learned because of it all.

During my freshman year of high school, I was not widely known in the running world. I never stood out compared to the other athletes in my grade. However, I somehow managed to finish a distant second in the 800 Meter Run to the reigning state champion Karina Liz of Aurora Central Catholic High School, who also happened to be undefeated in the event that season.

After that race, where I only ran a 2:19:29, I spoke with my local newspaper and confidently stated that I wanted to be a state champion before I graduated from my high school. At the time, I thought nothing of the comment and let it fuel me throughout my upcoming seasons. As time went on, I began to realize the seemingly impossible task I had set up for myself. Here I was: just a girl with some decent personal bests of 2:19 for 800-meters and 18:17 for a 3-mile cross country race just longing to one day be at the top of the metaphorical mountain.

Then, in 2016, my dream came true. After a long winter of hard work and new training methods, I finally achieved my goals of becoming a state champion. I had lowered my personal best by five whole seconds, with a time of 2:14 for 800-meters. The same day, I joined some of my fellow teammates to place fifth in the highly competitive 4x400 Meter Relay. In that moment, on that day, I truly felt on top of the world. This momentum continued into the fall, where I had my best finish ever at the IHSA 2016 Cross Country State Finals in November. This race was a breakthrough for me of some sort as I had run my first personal best in over a year on a cross-country course and finally became an all-state cross-country runner.

2016 was my year.

Because of my success in 2016, 2017 has been nothing short of a struggle. Before track season had even begun, I was already beginning to stress myself out over the upcoming season.  In February, Mike Newman of DyeStat and ILXCTF.com as well the team at Milesplit Illinois had released their pre-season track previews. Both sites had identified me as the favorite in the 800 Meter Run in Class 2A. Reading these previews both excited me and horrified me simultaneously. I was thrilled knowing that I had made a name for myself and accomplished my goal of being the best of the best in my class.

However, the thought of failing to live up to these standards I had set for myself lurked in the back of my mind. These doubts followed me throughout my season, and I began to question my abilities. Was I really good enough? Can I really handle this? What if I get beat? These are thoughts no one wants to have, but I had consistently.

My spring season started off strong: I broke the NIB-12 indoor conference record in the 800 Meter Run from the slow heat. I won my first indoor state title at the Illinois Top Times Championships. I just narrowly edging out my competition including Abby Fioresi from Aurora Central Catholic who would later outkick me in May.

Following these races, my season was fairly mellow. Throughout the month of April, I had no competition and had run times that, for me and my standards, weren’t enough.

At the end of April, Chris Quick, the Boys Cross Country Coach at Palatine High School, holds this incredible meet Distance Night in Palatine in which he is the meet director. The meet allows runners like myself who don’t see the same competition as athletes in the suburban areas to race against a more competitive field.

While I absolutely love the meet, I was super anxious heading into the 800-meter race that night. I hadn’t posted any good times that outdoor season and I didn’t know what to expect of myself. Even though I tended to thrive in high-pressure situations, I began to doubt myself again and I asked myself those same questions. Am I really good enough? Can I really handle this? What if I get beat?

That night, the conditions were perfect for some high-quality distance races: temperatures in the mid-forties, no wind, and a hyped-up environment to top it all off. While I was sitting in the stands with my parents, I watched what they refer to as the “Undercard” races, which are the entries that did not quite make it into the “Main Event” races. The Undercard 800m saw a freshman (Stephanie Kriss from Highland Park High School) drop her personal best from a 2:21 to a 2:12. I was in shock as most of the people in the stadium were. I couldn’t believe that this young woman had just done something that I have worked for years to try to accomplish.

Moments later, I watched my teammate Brendan Sebastian break my brother’s high school record in the 800 Meter Run. It was too much for me to take in, and it all got under my skin. I left the stands to warm up; I didn’t want to see anymore. With the help of my coach John Beatty and my father, I warmed up as I always did and soon, I was physically ready to race. Yet, these thoughts—these doubts – nagged at the back of my mind and continued to gnaw at me from the inside out.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore: I broke down in my father’s arms. I cried and I finally voiced those thoughts that had been killing me slowly from the inside out. I wanted to go home. I wanted to scratch the race and just give up then because I didn’t think I could take it anymore. The pressure I had placed on myself had been causing me to lose the love I had for my sport. I didn’t quit. I remember my coach telling me I would regret not running this race later, and he was right. That night, I had my best race ever. I dropped my personal best by another second and overcame a tough field once again. That was also the last time I beat Abby Fioresi who was my biggest competitor.

I felt as if Palatine was a breakthrough for me. By finally voicing my concerns, I felt as if a weight was lifted off my shoulders and I could run freely once more. The post-season races that followed were a blur. Conference came and went with me proving to myself that I could handle running the 800, 1600, and the 4x400m relay all in one meet. Sectionals flew by with our team winning its first sectional title in the school history. Before I knew it, the state meet was just around the corner once again. I was excited, nervous, and terrified all at once, but I loved that feeling. I lived for that feeling.

The state meet has always been my favorite meet of the season. The environment is truly incredible, and the atmosphere is simply contagious. It’s hard not to be excited to run on the blue oval at Eastern Illinois University. This year, while I was as hyped-up as ever, I still had this nagging feeling inside of me. It was as if I had a cramp in my side, one that you can’t stop thinking about—one that never truly goes away.

Before my team departed for Eastern Illinois University for the state meet last May, many of my teachers shared words of encouragement and confidence. A handful of them even reminded me to take what was “rightfully mine” again, referring to my state title. While their words were supposed to boost my confidence and give me motivation, they frazzled me more than they relaxed me. Their innocent comments got inside my head and I worried that if I failed live up to their expectations, then I would be letting everyone down. Most significantly, I would be letting myself down.

**********************************************************************************************

I could not help but feel this unreasonable fear the day of state finals. I recall thinking to myself that I should’ve been elated, for I had made the final in all three of my events. I had the chance of a lifetime laid out before my eyes, yet I still was afraid of what I felt to be the inevitable for all runners at some point in their careers—defeat.

Every year prior, I had always cried nervous tears before the final for the 800 Meter Run. I cried freshman year because the entire experience was so new to me. Sophomore year, I shed those tears simply out of nervous elation. I was about to attempt the impossible—defeat a two-time state champion-- of course, anybody would be a little nervous when faced with a task like that. But junior year, there were no tears shed. Not a single one. Why? I was too afraid. I had this immense pressure on my shoulders that I felt I was carrying with me. I felt like I had standards I had to live up to, standards I had set for myself. I felt I had a reputation to keep up as a returning state champion.

That pressure was enough to tense anyone up, which is the one thing a runner should never do before a big race.

Toeing the line, I shared some words of passing encouragement with my competitors. As the gun went off, I remember feeling panicked coming around that first curve. The pace felt too fast. I felt too slow. There were a million different thoughts racing through my head, it was extremely difficult for me to try to focus on the task at hand. Unfortunately, that task just happened to be the state final race, which requires one’s full and undivided attention.

The first lap came and went. I felt very comfortable with my position by this point, as I had managed to relax myself a little bit more after the break-line chaos that always ensues in an 800. With 200-meters to go, I made my move. It was the same move I always liked to make. In races, I am perfectly content to sit back and let someone else take the pace out, only to go by them at the end and let my foot speed carry me to the pristine white finish line. As I came out of the final curve, it looked as if I was going to manage the feat again. I was on my way to a repeat state title.

Then, she flew past me.

I barely had time to think about what had just occurred. One second, I am confidently leading the pack on my way to an undefeated season. The next, I am crossing the line in second place. I never even saw Fioresi coming, for there was another girl sitting right on my shoulder who I was desperately trying to hold off. I truly thought the girl on my shoulder was my only competition. I was confident I could hold her off, but I was never expecting the charge that came all the way out of lane four.

Crossing the line, I was obviously in shock. I will admit, I don’t personally remember the moments following the race, but I do remember collapsing on the infield, which for those who know me, is not something I typically like to do. But, there I lay, unable to cry, vomit, or even breathe it seemed. I couldn’t even think straight.

Medical personnel from EIU dragged me off the ground. I truly do not know who (thank you to whoever you were). Once I realized the events of the last few minutes, I found a somewhat private place to cry and vomit. The one thing I feared the most, four months leading up to this race, had just occurred. I felt as if I had disappointed everyone back home, I had disappointed my parents, I had disappointed my coaches, and I had disappointed myself.

My coach darted into the infield and sat me up. He did not scold me; he did not even look upset. He looked me dead in the eyes and told me that one race does not define my career, which is a phrase he likes to use often. He reminded me that I was a deranged bobcat (inside joke) and that nothing can stop a deranged bobcat.

At the time, I didn’t care about what he had to say to me, and I certainly did not want to hear any of it. I simply wished to curl up in a ball and lay there, undisturbed for a while. Maybe a few years, but it didn’t matter. However, my coach wouldn’t allow that. He told me that I could opt out of the mile if I chose, but he reminded me that I had three teammates ready to run a relay, and I could not let them down. I had to pull myself together for my teammates.

Those words from my coach were the words that pulled me out of my slump. I remembered the past year with my teammates, and recalled everything they had done for me throughout my season. My team was a family, and I never let my family down. They were the ones who trained with me, pushed me to my limits, and supported me always. It was time for me to pay it all back. I had to race for my team.

I ultimately decided to race in the 1600 Meter Run final, yet I questioned whether that was the right choice. I felt physically recovered from the 800, but mentally I could not find the right place. I couldn’t get back into my usual zone. But there was a sight that fueled me to run that mile, even if it was the worst race of my life. I turned around at the line to watch the girls behind the podium for the 800 Meter Run awards.

When they saw me, every single one of them cheered for me. Except one. The girl who ended up winning the 800 was busy doing something else, something that meant the absolute world to me. I saw Abby screaming at an official, and even from about 50 meters, I could make out what she was saying. Abby was telling the official to hold the podium. She told them to wait for me to finish racing the mile. I ended up missing the podium, but the thought was what really counted, and I carry that with me still today.

I will admit, I did not try in the mile race. I was not motivated. I finished dead last in the final with a 5:48, which was well off my PR of 5:13. However, my frame of mind totally changed when I was reunited with my teammates. They were ready to take on this 4x400m relay, and they were excited about it. Their excitement fueled me and gave me a newfound energy. Two of them were freshmen at the time, but the fact that they kept their fear in check to support me and get me ready to race helped me get my racing legs back under me.

Our relay finished in sixth place, which was a huge deal for us considering our relay never truly raced together until the sectional meet. And, I had run my fastest split ever at a mid-58 seconds. I had bounced back, and left the blue oval feeling a variety of emotions.

Looking back, I was very disappointed with the outcome of the 800 Meter Run final. I never felt broken or discouraged. Yes, I had hit a very low point in my career, but the very same day, I managed to pull myself together for the sake of my team and proved to myself I would not be defined by that one race.

While the road to mental and emotional recovery was extremely difficult, it certainly was not impossible. Over time, I began to realize how blessed I have been in my high school running career. I have never finished lower than a runner-up finish in the 800 Meter Run at state, a feat that not many people can say they have accomplished. I have consistently improved, and I have showed consistency in my running over the years. I truly have grown since my first high school state track meet in 2015, where I cried out of shear fear of the unknown. I have blossomed as a runner, and ever so slowly, I am learning to trust the process, and most importantly, trust God.

Since May, I have had some rough races in the early summer, but those races do not define me. I have realized my worth and found my passion once again. My love of running has been restored, and I can whole-heartedly say I have enjoyed every second of my past summer of training.

I have found that I am running paces that, in the past, I thought were out of my capabilities. I have discovered yet another layer to my abilities, and I am eager to explore these new discoveries. As I head into my year of lasts, I am filled with nothing but pure excitement for the future. I am in the best shape of my life, and I am looking forward to pushing my limits this fall, winter, and spring. I will also hopefully uncover yet another self-discovery by deciding where I want to compete and study the next four years of my life. I can say, without a shred of doubt in my mind anymore, I am the most confident I have ever been, and this newfound confidence will carry me through the best year yet, no matter the outcome.

Earlier I stated 2016 was my year. I believe that statement was wrong. I have a gut feeling that 2017-2018 will be my year(s).

I trust gut feelings.

 

If you would like to contact Rachel, please send an e-mail to [email protected] and we will make sure that we forward it to her.

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