LAST YEAR, I joined the Uni High track team, not knowing what I was getting myself into. For those of you who are not runners, track season is the longest of all the seasons, covering a whopping four months, from the end of January until the end of school for the boys who make it to state.

Now, running as a sport is exactly what it sounds like: You run as fast as you can, with nothing to focus on except for the pounding of your feet, how painful each stride is, and your own breathing, ragged as you gasp for air.

Last year, I was a sprinter who mostly did the 100-meter dash, which is the shortest race. Honestly, there is no real pain involved in that race. All you have time to think about is starting as fast as you can and making sure you don't go into someone else's lane before you're done.

This year, I did the unthinkable and began running the 800. For those of you who aren't well-versed in track lingo, that means that a few times a week I would run a half mile in a meet.

Compared to the 100, the 800 is pure torture. After the first 200 meters, you start to wonder why you are putting yourself through this, and you think that it would be so much easier to just stop and not finish the race. You don't just hear your breathing; your lungs start to ache. Muscles start to hurt that you didn't even know you had.

If my ranting wasn't enough to let you know, I will tell you now: I don't exactly like running. I prefer swimming in a pool, a heated one, where you don't have to worry about rain, cold, and sweat, and the screaming is drowned out in the peaceful serenity of the water.

However, I came back to track this year knowing that I wouldn't go to state, wouldn't exactly enjoy the practices, and would probably be so sick of running by the end of the season that hearing someone say the word would want me to throw up. Why did I return? Because of the team.

Let me explain myself now to everyone who thinks I'm slightly crazy or lying. No, I don't run track so that I won't have to go through the ordeal of the 5K at the end of the year. Trust me, track practices are harder than fitness (we run about a mile and a half for just our warm-up), and being in the 5K would be a lot better than losing your voice yelling at the tired masses as they finish and watching people puke right in front of you.

No, I run track because it keeps me healthy, the team is extremely supportive (our bus rides are never boring), and for the thrill of competition. I am in sports all year round, and to everyone who doesn't do any sort of sport, one of the most satisfactory moments you can ever have is when you win a big race (or just a little one), beat your best time, or have your team win a game.

Sometimes I wonder why I do three sports a year, but every time I improve myself or see a look of pride on my coach's face, I remember.

Being the best you can be, and then beating that best, is a great feeling. And this year in track I worked hard because I really did want to get better, and I was rewarded with a season that seemed to fly by. This year, everyone kept saying that they almost wished the season could last a little longer, horrible weather and disappointments aside.

For me, sports are a way to do what most people do in their schoolwork here at Uni. Sure, it's nice to get an A, and doing well on a project or test can make you feel good, but no one cheers when you ace a test that you spent all night studying for. You don't get a medal for turning your homework in on time, or getting straight A's. Uni students are expected to excel in school, but when you better yourself in sports or other extracurriculars, your parents, coaches, instructors, whoever — they all celebrate your accomplishments with you.

Ultimately, though, you have to do everything for yourself. If it doesn't make you happy or help you grow as a person, then don't do it. (Unfortunately, this doesn't apply to homework.)