Everything changed when I found out I had mono. I was on crutches. I had a stress fracture that was being misdiagnosed over and over again. I felt like hell. I was not strong enough for this. My season was over. It was only September. My season was over.
If you know somebody that does not get "it" or can't understand why you would spend your free time running and suffering have them watch a cross country race with an injured 16 year old. 16 minutes over hill and dale is never more beautiful than when you watch on crutches, in a cast, on antibiotics, quarantined from your team, from the sidelines. Trust me.
It was a Tuesday. I had run the 5th Avenue Mile the Saturday before. I was invited at the 11th hour when Matt Davis, the top runner on the country's top HS XC team, Mead, dropped out. I was more than happy to take the spot. Running down the middle of 5th Avenue with a police escort is something I will never forget. The choice to wear rubber bottomed spikes that Saturday was another choice I will never forget. On Tuesday, we had a little over a mile and a half to go on an eight miler when the pain in my right arch became unbearable. I had to stop. I had never stopped before. I remember the look on my teammate Chuck Grosso's face. He knew before I did. Even if I had read Chuck's face incorrectly there was no mistaking Mr. Heath's. Whatever was wrong with my foot was not good. When I answered his question regarding whether it was a sharp or dull pain I realized that my answer was not the one he wanted. So I prayed for a dull pain that night. I awoke to the sharp one. I did everything I could to walk without a hitch the next day in school. If you ignore something it will go away, right? Right?
I had never been hurt before. I had never fallen off in practice. I had never had a bad race. I had never realized what all this running meant to me. I was catching my first glimpse of what it did mean. It was only a glimpse but it was from the outside looking in. The door was shutting on my season.
Sometimes you do the little things. Sometimes you are ready. As runner's we believe that it's as simple as A+B+C=D. Do the running, get the rest, stretch and lift, stay hydrated, and on and on and on and race faster than you ever have before. Sometimes your bones and your ligaments and your tendons betray you. And sometimes you get sick.
A few days later I woke up to the sharp pain in my foot. But, that's not what scared me. In fact, for a little while that morning I did not even notice the pain in my foot. It's amazing what fear can do. My neck was swollen. As if I had swallowed a wet towel. It was huge. It was gross. It was terrifying. I was taken to Riverview Hospital for blood tests. I had mono. I had strep. My spleen was swollen. My immune system had cracked. I was broken all over. I was not strong enough for this.
The door had shut. I was sick and tired. I was sore and angry. I was a teammate without a team. I was a runner who could not run.
I was a 16 year old junior. Number one guy on the number one team in NJ. Strong. Cocky. Ready. And then my season was over.
A year later I was a 17 year old senior. Number seven guy on the number one team in NJ. Weak. Tentative. Scared. My season had just begun.
Chris Bennett is a former member of State Championship programs at CBA, and Captain of his team at North Carolina. He also ran for the famed Nike Farm Team. He currently resides in NC with his wife and children