The sun is right behind home. It's glaring in my eyes, making my vision horrible. I can hardly see the batter, let alone the ball. Our pitcher releases the yellow globe, and I hear the smack of the bat as the ball soars into the sky. I catch a fleeting glimpse of it coming my way. I strain my eyes in search of it. I have to catch it. I have to catch it. I have to catch it. Finally I see it. Backpedaling just a little, I raise my glove. I've miss judged. It's going to land a few feet in front of me. So, I switch gears and dive. The ball lands inches from my glove. I pick it up with my hand and throw to second base. Then, with a sigh, I turn around and mumble under my breath. "Mary could have caught that," I grumble. Even my throw was awful. It landed a yard from the second basemen's feet and rolled the rest of the way.
The air is warm. My lungs seem to shrink. Warm air isn't my friend in this sport or any sport for that matter. I shake the doubt out of my head, lace up my shoes, and step onto the black surface of track. After stretching, I take a breath of my inhaler. "It's only four laps", I tell myself. Four laps of agony, my brain replies. Again I shake off the doubt that seems to enter my mind every time I step foot onto the track. They call for the milers to line up. I take my position in the third lane and walk to the finish line, glancing at the seven others walking with me. The third lane. I'm not the fastest. I'm not the slowest. I take more comfort in the last thought, but in the back of my head I know that I am just an average joe. I erase the thought. I can win this, I tell myself. There is nothing stopping me from winning. Lining the toes of my right foot up with the line, nervous jitters take over. I take a deep breath, and energy soars through my limbs. The gun goes off. I leap into a pace I hope to keep up the whole race. The first lap ends. I stride out. Second lap. My foot crosses the finish line. I push a little harder. Third lap. I'm dying. My asthma is making my life awful. Breathing is a struggle. I push a little less. Fourth lap. I'm almost done, almost there. I long for my inhaler. I'm wheezing, but I push myself to my limit anyway. My legs are numb. I can't feel them moving anymore. 100 meters left. I push past my limit. My whole body hurts. I can't feel my arms. My lungs burn. I'm not even wheezing. It's more like gasping. I cross the finish line and collapse. Fourth place. Not bad. Not great either, but I focus more on the not bad.
Every time I step onto the field or the track, I sure hold out a vast amount of hope that this time it will be different. I know I am not an exceptional player at any sport. But, I long to be. I want to be. I push myself to be. But, I am just an average joe. I'm not horrible at sports. I'm not great at them either. I am somewhere in the middle. I was not born with any special athletic talents. I am a plain jane kid who has to work hard to be good at anything sports wise. I've played sports all my life and I'm still not great.
There are some people who are just born with the talent of running fast, catching well, fielding well, pitching well, but I am not one of them and that goes for the majority of teens in the world. Grouping us all together, very few of us are exceptional at sports. Most of us are somewhere in the middle. We are not fantastic, not the best, but we are also not bad, not the worst. We are the in-betweens.
I used to get so down on myself because I was never better than the girl who could run faster than me, play center field more accurately than me until I realized something very important. It's not worth it. Besides, those kids need us average people. We push them to be better, to work harder. We are what everyone compares others too. If we weren't here, no one would be exceptional. No one would know what exceptional was, because they wouldn't have anyone to be better than. They wouldn't have anyone to compete with, to push them.
"Anyone can show up when you're happy. But the ones who stay by your side when your heart falls apart, they are your true friends."
I am Samantha, and my goal for this blog is to basically share my experiences as a teenager. Basically, I am a teen. I have many hopes and dreams, many fears and insecurities that I let hold me back. There is so much that goes on in my life. Sometimes it is a struggle, and that is what this blog is about.