I was still getting used to the school when try outs rolled around. The big kids intimidated me, but they didn’t influence my path. I walked to the gymnasium on the 11th for basketball tryouts.
The squeak of my new shoes hit the floor as the rush of excitement flooded over me. The smell of the freshly waxed court wandered into my nose, as the rest of the players headed onto the floor.  I had done my paperwork, bought my gear and practiced hard. Now all I needed to do was make the team. My odds were slim though. I was just a four-foot-seven shooting guard with no tryout experience.
He told us to run up and back, and at the time I was thinking, “oh running, I love running”  when he blew his whistle everybody began running. I sprinted far ahead of everyone and finished first by quite a large margin, but after the fourth one I had realized that it was punishment.
The first two tryouts came and left, but it was the third one I was deeply worried about. My body was weak, fingers bloody from hard passes, ankles tired from hard cuts, mentally I was exhausted. We had done the same things over and over until it was seared into our minds. I kept thinking as long as I kept running, I wouldn’t be cut off. As the last drill concluded, we were sent into the locker room. Chatter broke out as the door closed behind us. In the next four seconds more than a hundred thoughts crossed my mind.
They entered the room with at least a dozen clipboards and medical forms.“ Congratulations, welcome to the team”. My body was numb with relief.  Walking out of the gymnasium I felt nothing but success.