Trigger.

It was in the fall of 2010 when I first dug my brand new spikes into my high school's freshly coated, red track. Man, was I excited. No, I was more than excited, I was ecstatic. I enjoyed the thought of being on a team as well as being apart of something bigger and better than me. You could say I fell in love with the idea of Track as a sport right then and there; this is where it all began, where my love for playing one sport turned into pure hate.

I'm a competitor and a damn good one at that. In any sport or game I participate in, I throw in my 110%, and nothing less. I make sure to win and if I fail to do that I pick myself up and make sure I win the next time. For some reason though, during my time as a varsity track player, I lost my will to win and my determination to leave my competitors in the dust while I cross that finish line without breaking a sweat. I simply lost it. Now whenever I feel the late night breeze of fall I get flashbacks to my time on the track right before a race. It's crazy how one thing could trigger your senses and take you back in time to a major event in your life. Yet, in my case, it takes me back to a certain time frame. Once I feel a cool, slightly damp breeze brush against my skin, I feel as if I'm on my high school's track with my black and gold uniform on, my hair tightly pulled back into a ponytail and my shiny silver spikes on my feet. Even though it's not  real, I still feel the same anxiety of the race run through my body and somehow I look up to see my team in the bleachers watching me with looks of hope, happiness, and sometimes boredom. How is it that even in my flashbacks I still feel the same amount of pressure and disgust I felt when I actually played the game? I wish the weather didn't trigger me back into this memory.  I didn't enjoy being the lead hurdler in my track team, nor didn't I enjoy listening to my competitors spit smack to me as I ran to the finish line.

It's funny though how I dispise this memory so much whereas one of my good friends, who was a fellow hurdler, cherishes these dreams. I remember her before our races literally screaming with enjoyment and excitement to get in the game while I was in the back dreading my participation in the race. My friend took this sport seriously and developed a true love for it while I was looking for my way out. And I'm glad I did, because I rather cheer for her in the bleachers then be right beside her expressing complete dread.