Blog Post 1.1
Grass-diving!
Knees bent. Back straight. Face forward. I was on full alert as I anxiously awaited the horn that would start the race. What was only 3 seconds felt like 10 minutes. A glimpse to the left and I could see my Dad bent over the barricade arms folded, nodding his head in approval wearing the biggest cheese smile I had ever seen. Brrrrrrrrp! The horn blows and I take off like a prisoner escaping from jail. My legs must have taken control over my body because my shoulders jerked forward like I had been shoved. I broke away from the pack and was in first place with Rachel James right on my heels. I could feel the wind from the back and forth movement of her arms. The bells she wore on her Rollerblades were ringing in my ear and signaled every inch she got closer to me. As I turned the corner the finish line was straight ahead and Rachel was now side by side with me. I bent my knees further and lowered my head to gain speed and before I knew it I was breaking through the finish line and then tumbling down a grassy hill. You see, all I noticed was the finish line; I hadn’t glanced at the fallen branches a few feet ahead. Granted there was enough distance for me to stop between the finish line and the ‘danger zone’ but adrenaline got the best of me and I kept moving. By the time I attempted to stop I was tripping over branches trying to catch my balance. So to save myself I threw my body into the grass and hence the tumbling began. With what was later determined to be a severe sprained ankle I limped back to the riding path and was greeted with cheer, laughter and shock. It was 1996, and I was a tomboyish 9 year old girl who could care less about cuts and bruises as long as the reward was worth it. My dad came up to me and said “well if you’re going to go out with a bang grass-diving is the way to do.”
Earlier that month my parent’s favorite Jazz singer Ella Fitzgerald had passed away, and me and my siblings were forced to her tracks non stop for almost 3 weeks. The day I won the race, my dad let me choose the music for the car and I was so excited I ripped out the Fitzgerald tape and popped in my Michael Jackson mixtape. To me, that victory signaled the end of a grieving period for both my parents and my siblings and I. Goodbye Ella, Hello Michael!
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