Oh yes. Hurdles are the definition of suck. Oh, and daddy? You're not making it any better. No, if anything you just make it a million and one times worse. I mean, holy shit dude. It's bad enough having my former-track-athlete-turned-track-coach-turned-track-photographer dad as a coach on the school's team, but on top of that, you're fucking frustrating!

Don't get me wrong. Of course I appreciate the fact that he's taking time out of his obscenely busy schedule to come work with the team but really...there's just something about it that doesn't sit well with me. Maybe it's the fact that people will probably expect me to be some sort of world-class runner because of my father's (and mother's) background in track. Yes, I know that I've been to more track meets in my lifetime than anyone else on the team (as he so wonderfully put it) but what the hell does that have to do with me being a good runner?

Fucking hurdles. Why the fuck can't I get over a bloody hurdle? Why?!!? It's beyond frustrating. It's infuriating. I can't do it. I don't know why. Fine, maybe it has to do with the fact that I can't even lift my legs "more than 4 or 5 inches off the ground" as daddy says. But I don't have a mental road block.

He says that I'm thinking about it too much and I'm going to have to disagree on that one. I am not thinking too much. I plan to run and then jump over the blasted object that has become worse than the bane of my existence. If that's too much thinking then what the fuck do you want me to do? Become a mindless drone who doesn't even think about the fact that I have to go over the hurdle in the first place? That's what's going to happen.

And another thing, fuck you and your problem with me being "too emotional". You suck. You try sticking yourself in my shoes for a bit and see how it feels to have parents who have never seen anything you've ever done as good enough all throughout your life. Yeah. Try having your father as your fucking coach, telling you that you can't lift your legs and you need to trim them down to run. So what the fuck? Am I too fat to run track now too? If that's the case then how about I just go anorexic for you. How would you like that?

God fucking dammit. I try to harness my emotions. I really do, but that shit doesn't work. Tell me this, how does one go about becoming completely and utterly stoic? I would love to be devoid of all emotion to the point where people question my humanity, if it makes it so that I never shed another tear again.

I know it may not seem like it, but it's very easy for me to be brought to tears. Not that I particularly want anyone to know that but this is a public blog and I have no clue who reads this so I may have just brought my own downfall upon me. Oh fucking well. I don't want to be the crybaby anymore. But how the FUCK do I stop it? Ignore them? Turn the other cheek? Well I've fucking run out of cheeks and ignoring has never worked.

I've been trying to get rid of these cursed tears since I became a "big girl". You know, the type that isn't supposed to cry. That was at least ten years ago. What the fuck am I doing wrong? How can I stop it? How? I really want to but there just seems to be no way. And it doesn't help that the parental units definitely don't believe me.

I'm such a fucking disappointment to them. They're both track-heads and they don't even have a good runner to show for it from their own family. They've already missed out on my brothers so now there's only me. What the fuck can I do? Nothing. I guess they're lucky that I decided (quite reluctantly) to do track at school.

Last year, during the Winter sports season, I played squash. Imagine how embarrassing it must have been for them when their fellow track-heads asked what sport I did.
"Squash." They would reply. My father doesn't even consider Squash to be a real sport.
"Oh. Well, I thought she would be running track. You know, keep it in the family." The other track-heads would respond.
Cue uncomfortable laughter.
At least I had fun playing Squash. I actually felt as though I had a real chance to improve and bring something to the team. What can I bring to track? I'm not particularly fast, I don't jump very far and I can't even get over one fucking hurdle. Pathetic. That's what I am.

A pathetic track runner-wannabe. And a disappointment to the only two coaches who matter in my life.