Senior year is just a whole bunch of endings. Its just a lot of finalizations. The last first day of school, last band contest, last football game, last race, last pep rally, last time, last moment, last chance. Its hard to believe. Next year I'll be done with all of this, away, far far away and being in college, taking classes, living in a dorm. Its exciting and saddening at the same time.

I ran at the district cross country meet yesterday. I did really well individually, honestly, it was the hardest I had ever pushed myself. Stephenville is a really hard course, lots of little hills and a huge hill about a half mile before the end. That and the fact that half of the race is on CONCRETE *!!!!!!grrrrrrr!!!!!!* made it a super difficult run. The only thing that I could think of when I was running was that I didn't want it to be the last race.

Running has always been such a release for me. You can't think while you're running, its really just not possible. The rhythm of the feet and the movement of the body keep the mind in a constant pattern of words. The words can't really connect, they can't form sentences, they are only left as a fragmentation, a mere outline of possibilities. It keeps me from delving to deep, from going insane with all of the ideas and thoughts that cascade in my mind. It gives me a much needed break.

So I ran, the girls ran, my team ran, everyone ran. I came in twentieth. I ran really well. My team came in second. The top three teams advance to regionals. It wasn't my last race.

The next race is in Lubbock, which is a good six hour drive away. We're leaving next Friday super early in the morning or Thursday after school. I'm going to miss the last football game and my senior pep rally. Knowing that made last night really hard for me. It was the last home game, my last game ever, and I hadn't even begun to prepare.

At half time my section forgot everything I had ever taught them. They forgot half of the equipment, forgot how to behave, forgot everything that we did during the entire year. It was so frusterating, not only because they know what to do but also it felt that I had been in marching band for five years and left nothing. All of the wisdom that I had tried to share, all of the love and the effort that I had put forth had amounted to nothing; they didn't understand.

They announced my name and my parents walked me out. I got a pretty flower and for the last time I played the fight song on a borrowed snare drum. The pit and I moved all of the equipment over to where it needed to be and I sent them to the stands. I stood and cried.

I felt really bad until Calvin, a guy from the drum line, came and talked to me. Calvin is just an amazing guy. He told me that he understood, that he loves it and that he gets as frusterated with it all as I do. He told me that I made a difference and that he listened when I talked. It made sense to him. I could have kissed the boy.

I know that I've changed and that I've changed the world around me. I know that I've made a difference and I am thankful for the chance to do so.

End