One of the few things I am going to miss from high school is participating in Track and Field. Although it tested me to my limits, physically and emotionally, it taught me things I could never learn from a textbook or classroom. The paramount lesson I learned from my eight seasons (four years of winter and spring seasons) is how to handle an immense amount of pressure.

I started off solely as a sprinter, running the 55m, 100m, and 200m. However, my coach believed that every person on the team should be able to run the dreaded 400m, even if you were a thrower. So naturally, I was forced to run the 400 and became faster each time I ran it. It became my main event by the end of freshman year.

Side note: let me explain the 400m race. It’s a deceiving race because it’s only one lap around an outside track, but it’s considered a sprinting race. Therefore, you have to go full speed (or at least try to.) As described by Livestrong.com, “the 400-meter sprint is one of the most physically difficult events because it requires the athlete to be at or close to maximum speed for the duration of the race. In longer-distance races, the runner must pace himself to conserve energy.” So yeah, it isn’t just me who thinks it’s hard. Ask anyone who participates in this sport and all will have the same reaction: that race sucks. A universal truth in the Track and Field arena.

There’s also another universal truth in this arena: a constant and looming sense of nervousness. Whenever I have to describe why everyone, and I mean everyone, gets almost unnecessarily anxious before an event I usually compare it to another sport. For example, in a soccer game you have 90 minutes to play. Therefore, if you make a few mistakes, you have time to make up for it. Whereas in track, you have one shot to get it all right. Sure, you’re just running, what else can there be? Well, there is a tremendous amount of technique in short sprinting races and strategy in long distance races. So if you trip out of the blocks in the 100m, the race is done for. Weeks of training down the drain.

Another contributing factor to pre-race nerves is the anticipation. A typical track meet can last for several hours, so you could be waiting several hours for a single race. You’re surrounded by runners on the brink of passing out and sarcastically think, “Wow, can’t wait to do that!” Then you’re called to check in and get sorted into heats and lanes. I like to equate this to lining up like cattle for slaughter. Perhaps a little extreme and morbid, but if you ever have the opportunity to feel the pain throughout your entire body after the 400m, you’d understand.

In the first few seasons I struggled to deal with pre-race anxiety. I wanted to do well for my team and coach so I put a tremendous amount of pressure on myself to preform. In hindsight, I see that I panicked too much—stressing about a race two nights before the actual meet. But as my coach taught me, it’s very important to get nervous. It activates adrenaline secretion and shows yourself and others that you’re committed to the race. Eventually, however, I learned how to transform the stress into a focus and drive. A lesson I am eternally grateful for, as it’s helped me before a major exam and in life itself.

Overall, my time with Track was sometimes difficult but mostly the highlight of my four years in high school. I forged incredible friendships, became mentally and physically stronger, and ran the 400m race more times than I can count (a feat I am especially proud of).