A cross country runner usually has a tall figure, but I am far from this. Someone asked me once how I paced so fast when I’m so short, containing a body more suitable for a sprinter. I simply replied with “hardwork.”
Now, looking at what I’ve accomplished this past season, readers may expect me to write about winning races, but I must admit, in the most humble of way, I don’t know what it feels like to win. What others see as winning doesn’t appear the same to me. Getting faster and faster times each meet feels like winning to me, not the fancy gold around my neck; the winning medal only meant I survived going fast the longest in one particular race. I don’t know why I run; it never really seemed to be a choice of mine to begin with.
If anyone remembers the Castillo history at Legacy, they will recall the memories of my brother, Domingo, first because he brought the beginning of success for our name. Domingo began his high school career in 2008 and ended it a bit earlier than a normal high school experience. When I first came to Legacy, he didn’t speak much about me to any of his friends. This allowed me to fly under the radar my freshman year quite nicely, leaving me only to worry about my sports: swimming and gymnastics.
Domingo never could perform in any other sport as well as other athletes until it came to running. I watched every race he won, every race he powered through his entire running life, and told myself I’d never do that. However, come sophomore year, I found myself asking the head cross country coach Lacy Beckler if I could join my brother’s training sessions the first two weeks before school in order to stay in shape for swimming. Beckler said yes, so I attended the first day with him, and it changed my high school life.
I overheard I had a natural ability from the assistant and head coaches. In the first week of practices, I outran all the girls, not by a small margin, but by a vast stride. I never felt so bad before in my life, for these girls trained for this, and I came in as the annoying newbie who only wished to beat all those in her way. Lucky enough, Beckler didn’t feel the same and texted my mother, “She’s a stud. Make her run for me.” With that, I had no reason to say no and we went out to buy two new pairs of shoes: one for training and the other for racing.
Following this choice, the memory of my brother flows quickly. Domingo never finished high school; he never walked the stage at graduation; he never grasped his diploma. It’s only obvious he never reached his full potential in running. In his junior year of high school, my parents sent him to a rehab facility off the well-known map for his misuse in drugs, an occurrence going on since his sophomore year. During Domingo’s senior year, after he got out of rehab, he was unable to finish his cross country season let alone move on to the track season, for his new revival of sorts didn’t work, leaving him back to the rough side. Somehow I became the new Castillo in the running regime, the new talent on the roads that brought a legacy and forced to leave an even stronger one. Somehow Domingo started this grandeur of winning championships, but I’m the one to finish it.
Every time I approach the starting line to a race, I remember how I first ended up getting there and my nerves begin to overwhelm me. I began on this very starting line because of my competitive regime, but I stayed because of Domingo. I must show how both of us aren’t as weak as one of us. I race and train hard because I want to show not all of the Castillo family decides to quit, that one of us grabs the work ethic we posses and uses it.
Generally someone who writes about their cross country experience discusses how exciting and enthralling a race can feel. They discuss how it’s a different unfolding of form, how once you’re into the pace and heart of the race, there’s no going back; it’s not what I care about. I care about how my training will get left behind. Recently this season I’ve won every single race I’ve ran in, but I am not satisfied. It’s not the best I can do, not yet. It’s not the legacy I want to leave. The one I want to leave remains untold, but I wish to start an ideology of hard work leading to the final goal. I wish to have future athletes remember my hard work and be inspired to do the same. I wish to leave the heart of a Castillo into the hearts of those who have run with me.
