Cross-country racing has no mercy when it comes to terrain, weather and competition. There are no excuses in these races because everyone deals with the same elements. There are no lanes, but trails that will be even or uneven, muddy or too dry, dusty or littered with loose grass. And the rolling hills that the athlete climbs during such races laughs at the unprepared, letting them slowly crawl up its mighty crest or roll down its bumpy grain from fatigue.

I learned to accept the inevitable in these races because there was no escaping the landscapes’ ingratitude, nature’s temperament or the avenging trails. The only excuse was to run because it was an unfair race for everyone. But what’s more devastating is running when there are elements that affect judgment such as sickness, or with other runners who really play dirty…

It was on Hampton University’s cross-country team as a freshman that I learned how unforgiving these races were. In early September when the wind chills the bone, I was running in my scanty running uniform with a white turtle neck as my West Coast blood complained about the inclement weather it was not used to running against. But it was a cold, chilly day for everyone, and the rains played dirty, misty tricks on us all day, creating muddy terrain and camouflaged puddles. Unfortunately, my weak body gave in; as if in rebellion, the temperature of my body rose and flu symptoms emerged early that morning. My insurgent stomach churned with sickness, and my revolting body began to shake with chills. This would be one of the most memorable racing experiences for me running with the flu in the worst of conditions. I let my coach know ahead of time of my ailments; the only advice given was to fight through it for a little over three miles. My teammates were supportive and told me to hang in there. However, there was another enemy lurking in the shadows at this competitive invitational: our main rivals, Norfolk State. There were two upper-class athletes who were known to play dirty; I was to steer clear away from them.

As soon as the race started I was fighting two enemies: my body and the merciless trail. I befriended my mind, hoping that it would cheer me on to the end. But in the middle of the race, it was giving into the commands from my body. As I ran with my teammate, I told her I could barely hold on; she told me to try to keep going because I was almost there. I did. As we neared the 3/4th mark, there they were, the Norfolk State girls, blocking the trail as we came upon their heels. My teammate tried to lead me pass them. I followed her to the side around them, but the mean one tried to elbow and trip her. As she saw me following behind, she gutted me right in the stomach. I stumbled to the ground and could barely move. My upset stomach gave in, throwing up every content possible right there on the trail. I could barely get to my feet. Suddenly my mind felt sorry for me and stepped in to cheer me on and get me to my feet. My white mittens were dirty, cold wraps enhancing the chills in my body. My brain told me to ignore it and get back in the race. Almost 400 meters behind, I got back up and ran like there was no tomorrow. I floated past the scraping trees on the bumpy, wet terrain, and through the scathing wind. The rain cooled my temperament and I was back on the trail in full stride. Before I knew it, I was up with the mean Norfolk State girls—there they were again. I put my elbows in combat mode to defend me if necessary as I passed them. I caught up to my tired teammate who gasped for me to keep going. I passed her up and went for the other runners in front of me. I was heading for the top ten. The finish line was near and I was almost there. I could see the roaring crowd and it was a relief. My coaches cheered me on to the last few feet—and I had made it. I conquered my worst fears. My body gave in to my determination. I received a medal for the worst war ever fought and won, and it felt good, no matter my condition.

As I move forward in life, I recognize that there will always be unfair conditions. Even during this production I have been up against the most unbelievable circumstances. What’s fair about the matter is that I choose to move forward and not let it stop me before the finish line—just keep on plowing through the muddy terrain, I tell myself. May everyone who encounters similar circumstances do the same…