Throughout my childhood, I was thin and underweight thanks to cystic fibrosis. When my mother, my sister, and I would go to the trails near our house to exercise, I hated running. I could barely make it a tenth of a mile without stopping — bent over and struggling for breath.  

Thus, it’s only natural that I ended up on my high school cross-country team.  

I entered the public school system in eighth grade, having before been homeschooled by my mom. I didn’t participate in any sports that year other than ski club, and my mom suggested that I participate in a sport when freshman year came around. As a result of being scrawny and perpetually ill my whole life — and thus not doing many athletic things — I didn’t have the necessary skills for a lot of sports. I decided that cross-country was a sport I didn’t need prior experience to do, so I showed up on the first day of practice with no summer mileage.  

My first year of cross-country was very difficult. Since my lungs were in no way used to exercise, I had to stop to catch my breath or cough up mucus several times during each “easy run.” At one point, my coach found me and my running buddies walking and told us, “At this point you should be able to run for 30 minutes without stopping.” However, that would take more effort and training for me because I was coming into the sport with severely damaged lungs.  

Over the next summer, I trained diligently to improve my endurance and speed. It was hard work, but my lungs eventually got stronger. When cross-country came around again, I had managed to cut down my 5K time enough to be on the varsity team.  

That season, I went to regional finals as part of the varsity team. Our team was seeded to take third place, which was exciting since the top three teams of each region advanced to the state meet. At the time, I had been battling a lung infection for the past few meets. But I was really hoping I could get a good placement to ensure our team could take third place. I was usually the fifth runner for our team, which meant any runner I passed would give us a better score.  

I stayed with the two teammates who regularly placed ahead of me until we crossed the two-mile mark. Suddenly, the thick, sticky mucus rose up into my throat and I couldn’t breathe well. I coughed and tried to get it out to no avail. As my body struggled to operate under less oxygen, my teammates got farther and farther ahead of me. Our sixth runner passed me.  

We were devastated to hear that we had gotten fourth place instead of third — and even worse, we had lost by only one point. I felt like it was my fault because CF had won this race, and I had not.  

During the next season, I remained on the varsity team. When the regional meet came around again, my team was again slotted to place high enough to qualify for the state meet. I was determined to not let CF hinder me this time.  

The starting gun went off, and my team flew onto the notoriously difficult course. I tried to keep our first runner in sight — I had consistently been our second or third runner that season. But after passing the two-mile mark, mucus from my lungs rose up and blocked my airways again. It got significantly harder to breathe, and I could see our first runner slipping away.  

No, I told myself. CF won’t win this race. Keep going.

I pushed harder, my determination and resolve making me go faster. I didn’t want a repeat of last year’s regional meet. I wanted to feel proud after I crossed the finish line instead of disappointed in myself and mad at my disease.  

As I came up on the final straightaway, I saw that our first runner was staggering. She stopped running and swayed on her feet. I wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it to the finish line. She was a senior, and I knew I had to persevere if our team was going to have a chance to qualify for states for her last season.

I crossed the finish line in tenth place overall. Our third runner helped the senior get across the finish line, and each of our placements were enough to qualify our team. I was elated for two reasons: I was going to states for the first time and — at least for that day — I had beaten CF.  

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