I have always been the established "quitter" in my friend group. I'm either overly devoted to an activity or I lose interest in less than a week. This motto has been ingrained into my personality since before pre-k, and somewhere in my mother's attic you'll find the dusty remaining artifacts of all past endeavors.

First you'll find my ballet slippers, leotards, and tap shoes. If you're lucky you'll even find the Dalmatian costume that I proudly wore at four for one of my dance recitals. Major fashion no-no.

Secondly, you'll find a softball bat, and a pink Barbie catching mitt. This career was short lived after a little incident with a ball to the face. I learned real quick to always have the mitt in front of your face, after that. But, my mother's reaction to the blood was pretty great.

P.S. Senior year, my best friend convinced me to play outfield, and taught me how to keep the mitt in front of my face. I only broke two pairs of glasses and sprained my ankle once. I'd call that progress.

And lastly you'll find a collection of 26 swimsuits and a Speedo bag full of caps and goggles. Although this sport was the longest-lasting sports career I'll probably ever have, I still quit. From kindergarten to freshman year of college, my life revolved around swimming back and forth in a pool of water. It was fun, challenging, and kept me fit, but it wasn't my passion. I just grew out of it, 13 years is a pretty long commitment. The water will always be one of my favorite places to be, and yes, I will forever be thankful for the 4:45 a.m. practices that came every summer, but it just wasn't for me.

But running and I were a different story. I'd like to call it love at first sight. When I ran, all my worries fell away and I felt like I was flying. It was just me, and my thoughts. I was on a high.

I started running in the fifth grade, and in all honesty, I only joined the team for the free T-shirt and ice cream after practice on Friday. But, eventually it became way more than that to me. It was a safe space for me to grow and be challenged. It was a challenge both mentally, and physically, probably because 10 year old me could not run anything more than a lap around the field and just wanted to win.

Growing up, I had always been a swimmer. Being a swimmer was not a choice, rather an expectation. For once, I was making the choice for myself, which is one of the biggest reasons I fell in love with it. Yes, I sucked, and consistently got last place all the way up to my senior year, but that didn't matter, because running meant so much more to me.

The older I got the more I used running as an excuse not to swim anymore. I didn't want to be defined by a 25-yard pool anymore, or being labeled as the "slowest" of the Bonaime siblings. Running meant starting over. My name didn't define my future or stunt my progress. For once, it wasn't a competition between all of my siblings, it was just a competition between me, myself, and I.

To anyone who knew me in high school during both my cross-country, and track career, I was the team's designated complainer. I complained before, during, and after every single work-out, and for that I am sincerely sorry. I would get annoyed listening to me complain day in and day out too.

But to every person who encouraged me during every race, thank you. To the boy who called me "Turtle" until he graduated, thank you. And of course to coach Gross: you dealt with me for many years, through the up's and down's of my dramatic teen age years so thank you. I appreciate all you've done and given me, more than I can describe.

Running gave a shy girl some of her best friends.

I couldn't wait to go to practice. No matter how much I complained, it was the highlight of my day. I couldn't wait for the weekend to end just so I could see my best friends.

It pushed me to give the sport my all.

Rain? Snow? Running doesn't care. Growing up in California, I never once thought I would be expected to run in the middle of Minnesota's first snow of the year. Thanks to Duluth for proving me wrong. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I cried through the whole race.

Helped me set goals both in the classroom, and on the course.

Coach set the rules, and made his expectations clear every year. If you get good grades, you can run. You have passion for the sport, he'll help you get faster. In his eyes there was nothing that you couldn't do. A philosophy he preached in and out of the classroom.

Gave me opportunities to travel, and meet new people.

Every season we went to Duluth's "Swain" meet. This was the one time of year all the runners near and far bonded over the snow that was falling as we ran our 5k and the insane amount of pizza we would all stuff our faces with later.

and finally...

Self Respect.

Running taught me many things, but self respect was the most important. When it came to running, you came to practice because you wanted to. You competed because it made you happy. Putting on my South High cross-country uniform was the proudest I've ever felt, something I've never felt swimming laps in the pool or dancing on a stage. I wasn't the fastest, or even the most committed runner, but running with people who full-heartily supported my present and future has never made me feel more like I belonged.

Running and I have a long history, from my first engagement to Nico Mercadal...(there was an imaginary ring), to my short lived career at Hamline, no sport has ever made me feel so alive, or sweat as much as running. So to all my number one fans who supported me through all my last place finishes for the last eight years, and to the boy who called me "Turtle", you have helped cultivate my experience for the better, and I love you dearly for it.

So to my past self, thanks for quitting all the sports you didn't like, and for finally realizing that your choice was valid. Thanks for being bold enough to go against the Bonaime family norm, and thanks for introducing me to a sport that has killed my knees, but has forever made me the happiest.