The Track and Field Meet
When I was a freshman in high school, I was on the track and field team. The second time I actually got to throw in a competition was at the very last meet, and it was an at home meet. I believe that the competition was held on a Saturday and Ellettsville was having pretty nice weather for the time of year. I had my sister, mother and a friend of mine cheering for me. During the whole competition I was distracted by the shorts that I had to wear. The shorts were just so short; they made me feel out of place and nervous. By the end of the competition I had made it up to 8th place. Everyone was so proud of me, including myself. As the competition came to an end and everyone was leaving, my mother came and told me that we were going out to celebrate my success. So then we headed out to Subway. As soon as we were almost there, the car had shut off for some reason. I instantly got out of the car, while wearing the short shorts, and started to push the junky car. I wasn’t happy, and yet I sucked it up so that I could do the task at hand. As soon as I started pushing the car I began to feel like someone was looking at me while I was in shorts, so I looked back behind me and what did I see: an older guy starring at my butt. That was one thing that I didn’t really like about that day. I pushed the car into McDonald’s and my mother then tried to start the car and it worked. I was so happy that I didn’t have to push it any further. We then went to the other side of McDonalds’ and drove over to Subway. I thought that my bad luck with the short shorts was over with, but I was wrong. My family and I had finally made it Subway. I got out of the junky car and saw some girls laughing, and I knew exactly what they were laughing at, the short shorts. I began to frown with embarrassment. My family and I then went into Subway. We ordered some food, ate it, and left. By then the girls were gone. By the time my family and I had gotten, home I was ready for bed, so I went to sleep. That night while I was asleep I had a dream. The dream was about the day I had and how I wished that it could have gone, the way that I wished it could have gone was a lot better than the way it actually went. My dream corrected all of my mistakes. For example after the meet, I took off the shorts, and the other problems that caused the day to be kind of a drag were gone. My dream fixed the car, the man that stared at me, and the girls. By the next morning I was in a lot better mood than towards the end of the day before. In those twenty-four hours I learned that I really don’t like short shorts and that I prefer jean pants. That day taught me some other things about myself that I didn’t know before like I don’t like short shorts, pushing cars, or girls laughing at me.