The Lost Season

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When the virus first appeared on the West Coast, the cases seemed far away. Northeast Ohio was insulated, safe from any major problems. Even the first patients diagnosed in the state didn’t raise huge alarm. Then like dominoes everything fell. In less than a week schools went from normal functioning to shut down, access shut off not just to the buildings but also all activities.

                My heart aches for all the students who are losing a season no matter the sport. My senior year I watched the first two track meets from the sidelines after injuring myself at the first practice—completely self-inflicted from pushing far too hard after a winter of inactivity. I worked hard that spring to rebuild and get back to where I had been at the end of my junior year. The week of districts I was on track to finish my season with my best time ever. Tuesday night prelims ended up being cancelled; we didn’t have the numbers to necessitate the qualifying race and everyone moved on to finals. Wednesday night my grandfather died.

                I still remember standing outside, tears on my cheeks as I told my coach that I could not race that Saturday. I had a funeral to attend. I do not regret my choice even the tiniest bit. There is no way I could have been anywhere else than with my family and saying good-bye to the first grandparent I lost. But the question of what if stayed with me. I have never competed at the 800m distance again. I wasn’t going to finish in the top four coveted places to go on to regionals, but I still wonder what I might have gotten my time down to. I might have finally broken 2:40.

                It was my decision though. I had a choice. The kids this year don’t.

                So my heart aches. For the seniors who will never have another chance. For the underclassmen who will lose a year of building ability and team community. For the newbies who might never try that new event or by next year might have moved on to something else.

                I know that their lives will have greater, stronger, better moments. That still doesn’t stop the heart from grieving the moments lost.