I was navigating all the same challenging decisions my friends were facing:
Would I drink alcohol at parties?
Would I smoke cigarettes?
Would I have sex?
Would I smoke pot? (Sometimes people connect “marijuana” and “Jamaica,” but I hadn’t even been aware of it until I got to America!)
Because I was always in athletic training, some of those decisions sorted themselves out. Running was too important to me; I didn’t want to do anything that could impact my performance. I wasn’t willing to suffer the consequences of bad choices by missing meets if I got suspended—by the school or my parents! But more than anything, I respected my body and didn’t want to do anything to harm it.
But the decision that would inform all the others is one I made at my aunt Maureen’s Caribbean Baptist Church, now ChristWay Baptist, in the fall of 1998.
I always admired my aunt. She and her kids, my cousins Shelley and Kevin, had come to the United States when I was a baby. Aunt Maureen had a peace about her that I deeply respected. After we moved to the U.S., she began taking Shari and me to church several times a week. We went to worship and choir practice and occasional youth events.
But there was a very particular Sunday that would change the trajectory of my life.
I was thirteen, nestled between Shari and Kevin. At the end of the sermon, I clearly remember the pastor asking the most important question I’d ever answer:
“If you died today, would you go to heaven?”
I wasn’t sure I would. It’s not that I’d done anything so horribly wrong, but I was learning that I could never “earn” my way into heaven. I could never be good enough. In order to spend eternity with God, the pastor explained, I needed to receive what Jesus had done for me on the cross and give my life to him.
At the pastor’s invitation, with bowed head, I raised my hand to say that I wanted to invite Christ into my heart. Jesus was the anchor I’d been yearning for.
When the pastor invited up those who’d raised our hands, I went forward. The pastor led us in a prayer, and from that moment forward I had complete confidence that my life belonged to Jesus. After some classes with the pastor, I was baptized a month later. To this day I still thank God for claiming me as his own, and I also thank him for the faithful witness of Aunt Maureen, who showed me what it was to live a Christian lifestyle.
She specifically showed me that being a Christian wasn’t about “fitting in.” That’s not who I wanted to be anymore. I wanted to be a young woman who lived a life of faithfulness to Jesus.
Oh, Fork!
By ninth grade, I’d established a reputation on the track. As a result, the seniors on the St. Thomas Aquinas track team (the high school I attended) took me under their wings. I spent more time with them than I did with most ninth graders. I liked it: it was like having a fleet of protective older siblings.
Although I knew they really cared about me, many of my teammates were no angels. A number of them cursed . . . a lot. Cursing wasn’t something I’d ever heard in my home, and I wasn’t at all comfortable using the kind of language I was hearing. I didn’t make a big deal out of it when they cursed, but I also didn’t join them.
When we spent time together—in the cafeteria, during practice, or at meets—some of those older kids started to notice that I didn’t curse. When someone stepped on my feet with their cleats, I’d squeal, “Shoot, that hurt!” Or if I was extremely outraged, I might say, “Dang!”
At first, they teased me about it. It sort of felt like they thought I was cute—like a puppy. (That isn’t what teenage me was hoping for.) But I could tell that some of my friends were trying not to curse so much around me. And I thought that was cool.
We were on the bus riding to a meet one day when the guys in the back started cutting up, the way guys do. One who had a wicked tongue began to say, “What the . . .?!”
Then I saw him glance over at me and finish his diatribe with, “What the FORK?!”
I could see on his friends’ faces that they thought he was nuts.
When his odd outburst left them scratching their heads, he explained, “Gotta keep it clean for my girl, San.”
The other guys nodded and accepted his explanation.
After that, I started to hear more of the older kids using clean euphemisms for the ugly words they used to spew out all the time.
Once, when someone told a story that seemed unbelievable, a senior girl queried, “Really? No SHIRT?”
Eventually, every foul word had a clean equivalent. By the end of freshman year, it had actually become cooler not to curse than to curse.
That experience taught me that I didn’t have to go along with what everyone else was doing when I didn’t feel it was right. I discovered that when I hung firm, those around me came around and made better choices. Whenever I’d hear one of the silly euphemisms my teammates had started using, I felt very proud to have influenced them for good.
In the face of adversity, though, it doesn’t always work out that way.
Bony Legs
Anyone who’s seen me race professionally—most likely in the Athens or Beijing or London Olympics—knows that, like the other track and field athletes, I’ve trained hard to build muscle in my legs, glutes, core, and arms to maximize what I can do on the track. Most would be really surprised to see what I looked like before puberty and before I started taking my training seriously.
In middle school and high school, I was tall and scrawny, with bony elbows and knees. In fact, several kids made fun of the way I looked.
If you’ve ever had someone tease you for something you couldn’t control—the way you looked, or where you lived, or who you lived with, or how much money your family had—you know how much those words can sting. They can really feel brutal.
After school one day, when I was a freshman, a kid from school who was walking home with his boys looked over at me and snickered. I was stretching, wearing a T-shirt and shorts, waiting for practice to begin.
“Nice bony legs,” he jeered, glancing at his friends for their approval.
It was a taunt I’d heard before. Sometimes I let those rude words go, but not this time. I wasn’t going to let someone disrespect me.
I retorted, “I know these bony legs are faster than yours!”
Because he knew my reputation as an athlete, he just huffed, “Whatever,” and walked away.
He probably didn’t want me challenging him to a race and beating him in front of his friends!
Sometimes people will come around and change their ways, like my track team family did. Other times, haters will keep hating. I know that can be really hard. But who other people think you are doesn’t mean nearly as much as who you decide you are.
Even if I hadn’t been gifted at running, my faith convinced me that I was precious to God, and my parents let me know that I mattered and I was worth respecting. So instead of believing that I had bony legs, I decided to be fierce. I decided to embrace my faith. And those identities defined me far more than any of my physical qualities ever did.
Investing in You
Throughout high school I honored the promises I’d made to myself about smoking, drinking, drugs, and sex. By keeping the commitments I’d made, I felt I was being true to myself and to God.
Sometimes I hear people call these kinds of choices “sacrifices.” I suppose you could look at them that way, but that’s not how I see it. I consider making choices that help you reach your goals as “investments,” not “sacrifices.”
Every time I didn’t smoke cigarettes or do drugs, I was investing in the health of my body, because I could see the finish line I was after.
Every time I didn’t drink, I was investing in staying healthy and strong to win races.
When I chose to remain a virgin, I was investing in my fidelity to God and to my future spouse.
Every choice was made with the finish line in sight.
As you think about who you want to be today, an
d how you want to live, first picture the finish line.
For me, that was easy, since my goal as a teen was an actual finish line! But my goal was also my wedding day. My goal was also the day I’d meet God face to face. I wanted to live a life that was pleasing to him every step of the way.
Running the Good Race
What’s your finish line?
If your goal is to graduate from college, then you need to be able to see that sunny May graduation day—three years from now or seven years from now—when you throw your black cap in the air and receive your diploma. Seeing the finish line will influence the choices you make today. Will you do the extra credit assignment for history class? Will you play video games after school or will you use that time to study for your exam instead? Will you spend your time and money at the mall, or will you save your money and invest your time in your schoolwork instead?
The future finish line informs who you’ll be and how you’ll run today.
Perhaps one day you want to marry a wonderful guy with whom you can raise a family. When you look toward the finish line, you probably see a man who’s a great husband to you and a great father to your kids. If that’s your end game, then you might not want to date the guy who had a lot of drama with his last girlfriend. You probably want to decline a date with the guy who sleeps around. With the finish line in sight, you may choose to stay single awhile longer or to date the kind of guy who you can envision being that great husband and great dad.
The future finish line informs who you’ll be and how you’ll run today.
Maybe you see yourself starting your own business and succeeding financially so that you can make a difference in your community. If you can see that finish line, then the way you engage your schoolwork now matters. The way you spend your allowance now matters. The way you volunteer now matters. The way you educate yourself on what helps struggling communities now matters.
The future finish line informs who you’ll be and how you’ll run today.
I’m not saying that doing the right thing is always easy. It’s not.
But I do believe that in the midst of the pressures you face—to cheat in school, or to experiment with drugs, or to lie to your parents—you have what it takes to walk your own path.
And sometimes, others will even join you on that path.
When you have the courage to be yourself, you impact others for good.
RIGHT ON TRACK CHALLENGE
You’ll enjoy the most satisfaction and success in life when you choose to be who you truly are.
•What are some core values or commitments you hold close to your heart?
•Are there people who pressure you to be someone you’re not?
•How do you respond?
•What’s one time you’ve chosen to be yourself in the face of pressure?
Take time this week to identify what you value and who you want to be. Write it down, and review it each year on your birthday!
CHAPTER 5
VOICES IN THE CROWD
Several of the track athletes at St. Thomas Aquinas High School had already made names for themselves in South Florida before I came along. They were expected to do great things over the course of their high school years, winning races and meets and medals and titles.
Then I came out of nowhere.
Although I’d been a decorated runner in Jamaica, I was virtually unknown in Florida when we moved to the United States. But by the end of my freshman year, people started to notice. I qualified for the state meet in five events—the 100 and 200 meter races, long jump, high jump, and 4x400 relay—and I won the 100 and 200 races in record-setting times. The Florida Sun-Sentinel even named me its female track athlete of the year, one of the youngest to ever receive the distinction.
My first year in high school, there were two other very strong female runners on our team. One, whom I’ll call Towanda, was a freshman like me, and the other, whom I’ll call Tamika, was an upperclassman. We were great friends, on and off the track. Tamika had won the state championship title the previous year, when I was in middle school.
At the state championships that year, I felt conflicted before the race. I wanted to win, but I also knew how much that would sting for my friend, who’d won the gold as state champion twelve months earlier for her second consecutive title. As we both raced down the track, I gave one hundred percent, like I always do. And as I crossed the finish line, a full stride ahead of Tamika, I glanced over at my friend to see the expression on her face.
Would she be disappointed? Angry? Gracious?
As we both slowed down, Tamika gave me a hug, which felt like a relief. I’d hoped we could continue to be competitors on the track and friends off the track, and her kind embrace signaled that we could.
But as time wore on, the goodwill of my teammates toward me seemed to wane.
Specifically, my teammates seemed to begin gathering around Tamika in a way that excluded me.
No one ever told me to my face of their complicated feelings about being displaced by my arrival, or what it felt like to now be running in my shadow. But the coolness from my teammates seemed to grow as they kept me at a comfortable distance.
At first, I’d get to practice and notice that they’d started warming up without me.
Or I’d notice them lower their voices when I passed by.
After practice, I’d hear them talking about the movie they’d all seen together the previous weekend, and realize they’d chosen not to invite me.
If Shari hadn’t been my witness, I might have believed I was just reading too much into the situation, or being too sensitive. But as the distance between me and a few of the girls who’d been my closest friends grew, I began to feel more and more isolated.
Negative People
I think it’s natural to want to be seen and known, loved and accepted, for who we are. But all of us will, at some point, face the challenge of negative people in our lives. (I am not saying that my high school track teammates were overtly negative—they never bullied me or directed mean comments my way—but that feeling of being excluded definitely had a negative impact.)
Maybe you’ve faced resistance from people who envied your success. One teenager I know was excellent at video games. He’d study them until he’d taught himself how to win. But when he always beat his friends at those games, he realized that their reactions made it increasingly less fun to play. Or perhaps you’ve gotten harassed by people because you weren’t successful at something. Maybe you struggled in school or had a physical feature that people picked on. You might have heard negative words that really hurt.
What those individuals do and say cannot define you. Only you can decide who you are and who you’ll become.
If you look around, you’ll probably notice that the people who are able to accept themselves are also happy to encourage and build others up because they’re secure in who they are. They don’t need to tear someone else down to make themselves feel better. I haven’t always been successful at that, but over the years I’ve tried to support others rather than tear them down.
Heartbreak
The summer after my junior year, I attended the Junior Olympics in Nebraska with the girl who’d been my fiercest rival: my friend Towanda. Though I’d been feeling distant from a number of girls on the team, we really bonded at that meet. I hadn’t told anyone on the team about my new crush, but Towanda and I were so tight that summer that I confided in her I had a crush on “Will,” the most popular guy on the football team. He was outgoing, handsome, and funny. Even though I knew all the girls liked him, I dared to hope that he’d choose me and we’d start dating in the fall.
On the first day of senior year, I was eager to spot Will in the halls. My hair was long and full because I’d had it straightened for the first time. I was excited for Will to see me because I felt beautiful. On my way to my new locker, though, I saw Towanda, the friend I’d trusted, holding Will’s hand. They were walking with some of the guys from the football team an
d some of the girls from the track team, and they were both beaming. Wide-eyed, I blinked a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. My breathing slowed.
When did this happen?
Why hadn’t she told me?
Completely blindsided, I was heartbroken.
I wondered if the sinking feeling of rejection I felt was how Towanda had felt every time I won a race.
If she’d wanted me to feel her pain, it worked.
I’m not saying that Towanda had a calculated plan to wound me. I can’t say what she was thinking, because I wasn’t inside her head. But at the time it felt like a betrayal. It would have hurt a lot even if I hadn’t trusted her with my secret, but because I’d exposed such a tender place in my heart, it stung all the more.
Surprise Attack
One of Will’s football friends had been flirting with me for weeks, but I wasn’t interested in him. My heart was still raw after seeing Towanda with Will, and I wasn’t interested in having a new boyfriend.
A few months into our senior year, I was walking from homeroom to first period with Shari and our friend Raecena, when Will’s friend passed us and made a sly comment. I actually didn’t even hear what he said, but Shari caught whatever snide remark he’d made.
I didn’t respond, but Shari sassed back, “Get out of here.”
The hallway was packed with students. Towanda wasn’t around, but I was aware that Will was with the rest of his crew nearby.
His friend spat back, “You ugly!”
Because he’d been coming on to me for weeks, it kind of felt like he was trying to prove his loyalty to Will.
My classmate’s comment raised Shari’s hackles, and she and Raecena turned around and retorted, “No, you ugly!”
As the argument escalated, Will’s friend got more and more upset. Shari and Raecena continued to defend me by pelting the boy with insults. And he shot them right back. As other students paused to watch, I could tell he was getting angrier and angrier.
Right on Track Page 4
