Zachary Zydonik

Professor Lori Bedell

CAS 138T
21 January 2016
A Fulfilled Runner
It was the calm before the storm, some would say. The hundreds of us there were lined up
awaiting orders, waiting to be called upon. Around me, layers were shedding from their owners
bodies, exposing the skin underneath that was dotted with goose bumps. The fog that fell around
us on that cool fall day blurred the view of the course ahead, but we all knew why we were there.
We lived for this moment.
In high school, I was in every way, what you might call a late bloomer. I was slow to
adapt to the jungle that the cliques of high school roam, not to mention I was also 49 until the
end of my sophomore year. I was a species of my own, set to become extinct if natural selection
took its course. To avoid being mauled by the ferocious beasts of Greensburg Salem High
School, I took shelter in the depths of my home. And although the safety of my home was
peaceful, I was not content with the situation I was in. In the open, I was vulnerable, but inside I
faced the danger of rotting into nothing. I had to do better; I desired to change who I was to
achieve personal gratification.
By chance, I came across running. At first it was simply something to do. It represented
part of the alteration of my lifestyle that I was determined to pursue. Soon enough, though, it
became my everything. Day in and day out, training became my existence. For once, the lack of
overbearing muscles and giant height worked to my advantage. My lean, smooth stride pushed
me to the front of the team in the matter of a few months. I had grown my fangs. Evolution was

working to my advantage. But there was something more. Not only was I excelling, but I was
finally grasping the meaning of the phrase Hakuna matata as Timon and Pumbaa liked to say. I
was beginning to understand that the jungle wasnt merely full of tigers, snakes, poisonous
plants, and dangerous terrain anymore, it was blooming with life, with milkshakes at the local ice
cream stand, with unplanned adventures driving through unfamiliar places, the shrill sounds that
left our throats when we attempted to drown out the blasting radio, and even winning a few races
out on the course. The jungle was beautiful. Yet, I still had not made it to the top of the food
chain. I wouldnt be satisfied until I was declared the best in the region. Being the winner in the
section was okay, but the fulfillment it once gave me was subsiding. The qualifier meet for states
was just around the corner. The objective was to make it to States, and it was all I had focused
on. There was a jungle somewhere that had taller trees, and more magnificent landscapes, or so I
thought. It was this jungle that I sought after, that I wished to conquer.
So there we stood at the ready, spikes laced, watching in anticipation as the starter raised
his gun. A single shot and we were off. The start of the race was an endless uphill battle, but the
adrenaline rushed in and all I saw were runners in front of me. One thought forced itself on my
mind: make it to the front. And so I did what I came to do. Every stride put me closer to my
target. Twenty feet. Fifteen feet. Ten feet. I was closing the gap. And then, as if the Earth jumped
from beneath my feet to help, the course turned into a downhill slope. And in that moment, I was
first. There were hundreds of runners behind me, hundreds of spectators on either side of the
course, and I was first. But I didnt care. And it didnt even matter that I didnt place in the race
because I loved the sport I was a part of and the people I experienced it with. What mattered was
that I was content. I had told myself for so long that I needed to be better, but for once, I was
happy with exactly where I was. To this day, I deem being content with yourself and your

position in life as utmost importance. I believe that you have the power to be content, no matter
who you are and where you stand, even if youre the last one to finish the race.