Cross Country Sunset

I was literally dying. My lungs burned like I'd inhaled fire as I rounded the track for the third time. Cross country practice was going to be the death of me, but I kept running.

'You good, Marcus?' Coach Miller yelled from the sidelines.

'Yeah!' I wheezed, because admitting I wasn't would be social suicide. The whole cross country team was watching, including Sarah, who I'd been crushing on since September.

My phone buzzed in my pocket—probably my iPhone 11 blowing up with group chat notifications. I ignored it. Nothing was more important than not looking like a total loser in front of everyone.

Practice finally ended, and I collapsed on the grass. Sarah sat down beside me, her face flushed.

'You're getting faster,' she said.

'I'm literally dying,' I admitted, and she laughed.

My mom picked me up in our ancient Honda, but before we even left the parking lot, she hit me with, 'We need to stop at CVS. Your sister needs her vitamin D supplements.'

'Ugh, can't we just go home?'

'It'll take five minutes, Marcus.' She pulled a sharp right turn toward the strip mall. 'Besides, I saw Coach Miller posted the meet schedule. Are you excited?'

I stared out the window. 'I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I like running, but...'

'But what?'

I shrugged. 'I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I'm just doing it because everyone expects me to. Like, Marcus is the athletic kid, so Marcus runs cross country and track and whatever else.'

She pulled into the CVS parking lot and turned off the car. 'You know, you don't have to be who everyone thinks you are. It took me until I was thirty to figure that out.'

'Wow, thanks for the pep talk, Mom.'

'I'm serious! Life's short. Don't spend it being someone else's version of you.' She gestured toward CVS. 'Now come help me find those vitamins.'

Inside, the fluorescent lights gave me a headache. I wandered toward the coolers while Mom searched the supplement aisle. That's when I saw it: an orange Gatorade, the exact color of Sarah's hair when the summer sun hit it right.

I bought it, because sometimes small things are all you have to hold onto.

'What's that?' Mom asked as we walked to the car.

'Nothing,' I said, but I was already reaching for my phone to text Sarah. 'Wanna grab Gatorades before practice tomorrow? Orange, obviously.'

Three dots appeared immediately. 'Obviously.'

Maybe Mom was right. Maybe I didn't have everything figured out, but I was starting to figure out what mattered. And that felt like something.