Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

When I was in junior high, I joined the track team. Track and field offers a lot of events, so the coach had us try a little bit of everything so we could get a feel for what we might like. I had played softball when I was younger and was a good hitter, so I gave the shot put a few big hurls. My throws weren’t too shabby, but I wasn’t interested in training for it, so I moved on to other options. The coach thought I might be good at the 400, which is once around the track. By the time I completed the oval, I was struggling for breath. Sure, with practice I could get stronger and build endurance, but that felt like torture. Any other options? No interest in the 800 (twice around the track? I could barely make it once!) or worse, the 1600 (a mile? Are you kidding me?). I knocked the bar off every time I attempted the high jump—even when they set it at the lowest notch. Later, I tried to clear one hurdle, but it seemed impossible to clear one after another all the way down the track. Pass. The long jump req