Stress and Fatigue...

Beep Beep Beep Beeeeeeeep

Your alarm clock displays a red “5am” on your wall. It’s time to wake up.

It’s your daily routine. Get up. Kneel. Pray. “Lord, bless the work of my hands so that-.” You know the drill. Brush your teeth. Wash your face. Check out that hot bod of yours through the bathroom mirror and grab your sneakers.

You quietly tiptoe when passing your parent's bedroom, expertly avoiding the deadly Lego’s left on the floor by your forgetful brother. When trudging downstairs you hear an agitated moan. 

“Oh hello, vermin,” you say in mocking tones to the orange fuzzball on the step beneath you. “Sorry for waking you.” Your cat meows a response and follows you to the kitchen.

You pour a bowl of “Quirky Cats” cat food and leave it on the cold tile floor. You grab a hand towel from the closet and your water bottle from the kitchen counter.

“See ya later Smokes,” you say, not waiting for a response, and head out the door.

As you lock the door, you notice the murky blue of the sky and the freezing temperature outside. March was already deeming to be a confusing month. Track season had just started, and it hasn’t stopped snowing since the start of February.

Brushing off the chill on your bare legs, you check your mile tracking watch.

“Five miles today? Maybe six, for good measure.” 

You know you have to step it up. After being sick for almost 2 weeks, you don’t want Coach to think you’re weak. 

The cold agitates your nose, which gives you memories of your past sickness spell. 

C’mon. Brush it off. It’s nothing.

You march down the front steps. Confident. Determined. You head to the rickety mailbox flanking the walkway. Stressed. Anxious. You open the lid, ignoring the spam, putting back the bills. Your focus is solely on the purple rimmed envelope, branded with a gold seal.

Bump. Bump bump. Bump.

You tear it open, the past rejections gnawing at you. 

“Please just say--” you whisper with pleading hope. The letter opens and you read.

“Thank you for the scholarship application we’ve received. However, after much consideration and thought made by our esteemed Admissions Committee, we regret to inform you--” 

It was the same script. The same script that every college that you’ve applied for -- every, single one -- has put in their stupid rejection letters.

Not realizing you froze midstep, you slowly come back to reality, letting the torn, purple rimmed envelope fall and die in the snow.

Anger, fear, and confusion seeps into your skin, as well as the unbearable chill from the unbearably chilly day.

Calm down. Warm up.

You jog to the side of the street. Get it out of your mind. Everything will be fine.

Your feet dash down the pavement, the freezing wind slapping you in the face. You push past the uncomfortable weather affecting your body and turn a corner. 

A failure. That's what you would be called. A failure. After 5 letters with the same message your friends, family - your team - will be so disappointed. You turn another corner and head down an alley.

Your breath has leveled by now, the firm ground feeling familiar beneath your feet. Tiny, weightless flurries have started to fall, but you don’t notice. How could you? Who cares? You weren’t accepted into ANY colleges, senior year was almost at an end, you have state championships coming up, and on top of all that...you feel your cold is coming back on. 

Great.

You wipe your runny nose on the back of your hand and keep going, keep thinking about all your problems. 

“How will I go to college now?” You think to yourself. Sure, you didn’t need a scholarship to get into college. But you know Mom and Dad haven’t had the best year. All that debt… they need every single penny they have. So you do need a scholarship. A scholarship that you will never get. 

You can feel your heartbeat pounding in your throat. Was it the exertion or the uproaring sense of unending failure? You don’t know. And at this point, you don’t care.

“Community college is always an option.”

No. Track is your life. Track is your future. After years of stuck up behavior and always the best of practically everything, your heart has been hardened to the mediocre, the average. Of all times for your parents to fall into a mountain of debt… As the snow falls and withers away, so do your hopes for the future.

You slip and catch yourself from falling onto the highway. The highway? What…

You find yourself on the side of the busy road, jogging in dirty ice slush made by the speeding cars. How could I have gotten here…

Suddenly, sickening symptoms override your body. Your temples throb as they’re confronted by a painful headache. Your legs feel like melting chocolate, staining the snow-coated cement. You fall to the ground, knees buried in the snow. When you try to stand, it's a shaky attempt. Your limbs tingle with unexplained pain. 

No. Get up.

You struggle with the thought of falling back in the snow, but overcome the desire. You get up. And run. And keep running.

Sweat builds up on your forehead as your feet push the snow flat against the ground. You try not to think about it, you try so hard, but of course, you did.

Championships. We’re gonna lose. I’m going to lose it for everybody. If the people from all those stupid, fancy colleges didn’t like me, what chance do I have at winning?

At that thought, you stumble, barely catching yourself this time. 

Why is this happening?

Your head starts to fog and your vision blurs. Was it the snow, or the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

Before you know it, once again, your body meets the cold earth and sends waves of chill to your whole body. This time, you don’t try to get up. You lay and watch the cars drive by, watch one or two stops, and watch flashing lights arrive soon after. But by now you’re much too tired to pay attention.

Much…

Too…

Tired…

~

Beep Beep Beep Beeeeeeep. 

Your alarm clock displays a red “5am” on your wall. It’s time to wake up.

Wait. No, that's not right. 

You open your eyes. The vital signs monitor beeps with no hesitation. Your hearing is fuzzy, catching muffled phrases made by a man in a white coat - the doctor. He’s saying, “Post-Viral Fatigue…” and “Due to exhaustion…”

You turn more towards the balding man to hear more, but catch the notice of nearby people. 

Family.

It wasn’t long before you felt your mother's tight embrace upon you and the concerned scold on your father's face staring down on yours. Your brother is in the back, still playing with his Lego’s. 

The doctor's face comes back into view as he spews nonsense at you.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“You’ve just recovered from a cold.”

“You need time to rest.”

“The stress you’re under is too much for your body to handle.”

Yada yada yada.

I’m fine. I’m not under stress. I need to push myself harder, if anything now. I need to be the best. For my family, my friends, my teammates, and coach. 

For me.

I’m fine.