"A lot of people race to see who is the fastest, I run to see who has the most guts."
At the moment I crossed the finish line after months of grueling two-a-days training, I cried. When I saw my time and place, I cried harder. This was the single most memorable race of my career. It was just another Saturday meet at a seasonal course, which week was the last of our two-a-days and Sunday Mountain Runs.
This was my last open meet of my senior season, before districts. I had worked for months for the next race and today seemed like we won a championship.
On this particular day it would have been my grandfather's eighty fifth birthday, I dedicated that race to him. He always told me to do your best and it will get you where you want to go, and I did. That day I cried because I ran a personal best and placed first for my team, and I made my grandfather proud. The course that day was the toughest one we had to run that year, over two miles straight up agonizing hills, pure pavement and chilling weather.
That day I didn't race to be the fastest, I raced myself to the finish. To be the one who had the most heart, the most drive and as Pre would say the most guts. I may have lost that race but I cried because I was the winner. I was the winner of the most heart, most drive and the most guts in that race. That day was worth more than first place.