Here is another essay I had to do for english. This one isn't as well written. The third one I post is much better than both of them.

A Life Changing Experience
Saturday has came, but not without pain. It is The Finger Lakes League Championships. Our track team is traveling to Marion Senior High School for the competition. We want to win, more than anything. We want to show that we are tough, strong, and won’t back down. As some are racing later in the day, they sit around in the shade patiently waiting. Others, racing within the next hour, are jogging, stretching and getting last minute advice from their coaches. Sitting and waiting; or jogging and stretching. It is one or the other for everyone, excluding me. As I stare out at the track wondering what I am getting myself into, a shiver travels down my spine. I am racing the 3,000 meter steeplechase, the 1600 meter run, the 3200 meter run, and the 4X800 meter relay. I know today I have to perform well. I vow not to add this to my list of failures. It will be five and one half miles of racing in just a few short hours. And no one has won them all. From any school. Ever. So what am I getting myself into?
If this painful attempt is successful, it will be epic. Everyone will remember this and talk about it. I can picture it now; when a coach says “Back in 2009 this runner from Geneva…” In contrast this has potential to blow up in my face and be a complete failure if I am not smart about it.
It is time to warm up for the first race: the 3,000 meter steeplechase. It will be almost two miles of barriers and water pits to clear. I jog two miles for a warm up and start to stretch. Training has been very intense lately in preparation for this meet, so the stretching feels good. “3,000 meter steeplechase runners: five minutes to start” I hear over the loud speaker and start to feel nervous. This all starts in five minutes, then, there is no going back. I head over to the start and practice jumping over a few barriers. I feel fast, strong and flawless as I roar past the barriers. The other runners watch. As I finish and do some last minute stretching, I watch the other runners circle, whisper and dart eyes at me. I don’t know exactly what they are saying, but I usually have an idea. They all know me. During the fall I won the Cross Country Finger Lakes League Championships. I am seeded first in this race by nearly 20 seconds with my school record breaking 10:40 I ran three weeks ago. As we get on the starting line, everyone wishes each other good luck. Some athletes make a few, half joking comments about me taking it easy on them. The gun sounds and we take off. I know my plan. It is my plan for the next few races today. I tuck myself right into second place and the pace is slow, which, I am glad about. Everyone expected me to lead. A runner from Wayne is leading and looking back giving me unsure looks. I don’t give him any reassurance to what is happening. We cross for the 7th time and the pace is still pedestrian. With 400 meters to go I fly out into the second lane to pass. We have averaged 88 second laps for the first 6.5. Then, I run the last lap in 67 seconds, to beat my personal best by one second. After shaking hands with the other runners’, I take off my racing shoes and go talk to Coach. “One down brotha” he says to me. I smile and put on my training shoes to go for an easy mile cool down run. It feels like by the time my legs are cooled down, it is time to get ready again. I’ve already run five miles.
The 1600 meter is next and I do a mile warm up for this race. This race is going to be more competitive than the 3,000 meter steeplechase. As we approach the starting line, I have a fear of losing. I still have the fastest time in the field. That makes me feel, or at least be able to act confident, and pull it off. The race starts, and again it is pedestrian. We come through the 400 in a slow sixty nine seconds. The second lap is seventy seconds. With 500 meters to go people start going into the outer lanes to pass. Though it is earlier than expected, I know it is time. I run the last lap is sixty five seconds (4:20 mile pace). When I am done I feel tired. I cool down one mile and have now run eight miles, three of which have been raced. My legs are getting tired. I only have a one hour break until the 3200 meter.
I lay in the shade and drink some water. This race is even more competitive. With Brandon Cowels from Newark in the field, I know it will be tough. I see him stretching. He looks fresh. As I walk over with a friendly smile, he looks up from his stretching and grins. I make small talk as usual, asking how he is feeling. He says he feels great. “Well that’s good,” I say aloud while the thought of “he hasn’t raced yet and feels great” flashes quickly through my head. As we finish our chat, I notice how hungry I am. It is 2:00 PM and I haven’t eaten since 7:00 AM. I cannot eat. If I do, cramps will follow and with that: failure. I warm up, again, with a mile and some stretching. It almost feels counter productive to keep running when I have to race so much. I know it will help though. I am hoping the race starts off slow again. “Runners to your mark…set...” BAM! The gun sounds. We take off and the same kid who led the first few laps of the mile is angry and wants me to hurt. We blister through the first lap under seventy seconds, the same pace we ran the first lap of the mile in. The pace slows to seventy five second laps, but to me it feels faster. On the fifth and sixth laps, I can feel the other races. My legs hurt badly. They are tired and sluggish. What normally would be a cruise to run seventy five second quarters is a strain. I know I can hang tough, but I’m worried when I go to kick my legs will not respond. With 800 meters to go Brandon takes control. I don’t want to go with him; actually, I want to stop. I know quitting isn’t an option and, if I do, I won’t be able to sleep. I go with him. With 400 I crank it again. It hurts, but surprisingly to me, my legs still respond very well. My legs are controlled by my mind. My mind is a tyrant to my legs. My legs are only followers. Yet my mind is controlled by others. They have no idea how much they effect me. By Brandon running in front of me, he has triggered a whole chain of reactions. With 200 to go I get even faster. I know I have it won. As I cross the finish line with my third League Championship, I put my arms up in salute to the Goddess of victory. A little teary, I know I’ve done something no one else has accomplished in the Finger Lakes. I stumble to the fence for something to hold on to. I quickly take in some water but it isn’t enough. Having now run 11 miles and only eaten a bagel and apple juice in the last 20 hours. I feel light headed. I get some juice and dilute it with water. The sugar helps me regain posture. I shake hands with Brandon and we go for a mile cool down together. As we jog, my entire body hurts. Only one race to go.
The 4X800 meter relay is the last race for me and the last race of the day. My brother Ethan, my teammates Adam and Colby, and I are running it. When we come back from our mile jog to warm up, the men’s open 800 is underway. Aaron Hoven from Midlakes wins in 1:57. That is one second faster than my best. He is also the anchor leg for the Midlakes 4X800 relay. Our feelings for each other: identical. Now, both being League Champions, we know we are both good. He being speed based in his training and me being strength based, it could be anyone’s race. The four of us huddle moments before the start. I ask only one thing: “Please don’t give me the baton next to Aaron. I don’t want to have a sprint off with him.” Ethan goes first. He hands the baton off in first place. After Adam and Colby run, I get the baton in second, only a few meters behind Aaron. “The one thing I ask” I say internally as I start to chase him. I catch him 300 meters into the race. I run behind him around the turn until the straight away. I go into the second lane to pass him and, as if to mock me, we get into a sprint off. It hurts badly. It feels like battery acid is pumping through my legs. I win the sprint off and now, feeling like my body is shutting down, I still have 400 meters to go. We cross 400 in sixty one seconds (4:04 mile pace). I doubt I can win another sprint off with him. I know in order for me to win I have to do something drastic and do it now. I start to accelerate and look back to find him right next to me. “Go now. Go now,” I hear as we round the first turn. I slam my legs into an all out sprint. I am running wide open. “If he goes by me there is nothing I can do.”, I say to myself. “This is as fast as I can go.” “Come on Brian” Coach Pitifer yells in his overpowering deep voice. I cross the line in 2:02 (still 4:04 mile pace). I lay down in exhaustion.
Four League titles in a matter of an afternoon. That ever forbearing question of Why? Why do this? Why put your body thorough this pain? It is starting to get answered. Our team is the League Champions. I am a League Champion. It hurt. A lot. When I wake up in the morning I know I will be proud of what I did. The kids who didn’t torture there bodies, well, they will have a few sleepless nights. I have a list of my failures above my bed that I read every night before I go to sleep. I vowed not to add today to that list. I didn’t. I go home and fall asleep. When I wake up and can’t walk, I smile and laugh in an obnoxious, nervous way as I fall back into my bed, still smiling.