Carolyn Wegner

Ms. Wilson-Scott 5^th

11/8/07

Leaving the Comfort Zone

            Hoards of yelling kids, students playing bumper cars with sagging fifteen pound backpacks during passing periods, frequent, non-accidental fire alarms, heated fights in the court yard, the occasional C building stink bomb, freshman Friday eggings; this was the world I had just stepped into, and the world I would be living in for the next three years of my life.  I hoped I had made the right decision to brave the jungle of Berkeley High, leaving behind my comfort zone.

            The previous year I had decided to enroll in Saint Mary’s College High School, with the encouragement of my parents.  Saint Mary’s was at the opposite end of the spectrum from Berkeley High—there was a clearly defined sense of community and continuous support from the staff, well planned school spirit events, fundraisers, community service programs, dances, games, and even overnight ski trips.  Saint Mary’s also seemed to promise a smoother transition to high school from my middle school Prospect Sierra, a small private school, than my other option, Berkeley High.  Even though it was a Catholic school, and my family was not religious, its small size and accelerated athletics were inviting and convinced me that it was the right place for me.  Saint Mary’s cross country program in particular drew me in and made my decision to leave after my freshman year very difficult.

            Although I was training for the longer distance races of cross country, running short intervals and repeats on the track were always my favorite, and coincidentally, most painful workouts for me.  I can vividly remember the typical workout:  I shake my tense legs out one last time, my heart still thudding, its pulses reverberating all over my body.  Ok, just one more.  I exhale.  We line up, toes on the speckled white line, crouched over, our muscles ready to jump at the slightest sound. “Ready…set…GO,” Coach Rogers signals. 

            His hands come down and I launch off of the red track, muscles straining, bounding towards the curve.  “Go gymnast GO,…FASTER!” Coach Rogers bellows from across the lopsided track as I sprint around the last bend of the 200 meters.  The cool wind is blowing off the massive bank of fog collecting over the bay, but all I can feel is my heavy breath, the pumping blood in my ears, and my throbbing legs mechanically chopping up and down, up and down, barely touching the ground.  As I try to put on the brakes after the finish, my feet repeatedly fly up, hitting my butt and I smile.  I live for this feeling; total pain and exhaustion running through your veins.  I feel cleansed.  Whenever Coach Rogers addressed me during practice, it was either “Wegner,” or “gymnast” (I was a competitive gymnast until the eighth grade) which somehow never failed to drive me to run with more determination and confidence every time.  Although I sometimes dreaded the excruciating drills or runs the team had scheduled that day for practice, I always left feeling energized and good about myself.

            The amazing experience I took away from that one cross country season my freshman year was mainly due to Coach Rogers.  Jeff Rogers, who athletes address as Coach Rogers and students as Mr. Rogers, is the head cross country coach at Saint Mary’s.  He is well over 6 ft tall, with a stern crew cut and a ready smile, that makes him both a powerful and respected, yet approachable man.  I was told I had great potential, but I knew I wasn’t the best.  I wasn’t in top shape, and I hadn’t figured out how to use the workouts to my advantage as a runner. I didn’t have the most stamina, nor could I sprint the fastest, but that didn’t matter to me.  Coach Rogers’ support and belief in my ability to improve and-sometime in my future-to deliver was what kept me coming back practice after practice. 

            Races were a whole different matter; I had always detested any sort of competition, but throughout my life from swimming to gymnastics, I had always found myself in competitions.  Cross country was no different, and I discovered myself once again being shuttled off to races.  Coach Rogers would tell me, “Wegner, just do your best, push yourself and you’ll be fine—don’t stress.  Whatever happens, happens.”  Although this let me take off some of the pressure, the other runners were so supportive that I felt being there and trying was enough for them.  No matter what, we were all a team working together.  The Saint Mary’s team is still very competitive, and rightly so, since it is known for its strong runners and high placed finishes at races in both the girls’ and boys’ divisions. 

            My last memory of Coach Rogers’ encouraging yet competitive streak was at an invitational meet down in Hayward.  I did not place remarkably, nor was it one of my better or most satisfying races, but I vividly remember Coach Rogers leaning in from the side lines upon my approach to the finish yelling at the top of his lungs, “COME ON WEGNER PUSH IT 200 MORE YARDS—CATCH HER!!”  Just before the finish I caught the girl who was sprinting ahead of me.  Coach Rogers’ animated yelling had once again worked its magic and a sense of immense accomplishment and pride spread over me after a new jolt of adrenaline had carried me past her to the finish line. 

            Once cross country season ended, I realized that it had provided my only connection at Saint Mary’s, and there were no new ways to challenge myself.  In late winter I attended two performing arts performances at Berkeley High and finally realized that this school could provide me with more opportunities than Saint Mary’s, mainly because of its large size and diverse course selection. 

            The first performance I saw was an orchestra concert, since I was interested in starting up violin once more.  I was immensely impressed considering I had never been inside the gigantic art deco-tiered theatre and I certainly never expected the Berkeley High Orchestra to be playing full twenty minute Tchaikovsky symphonies.

            But I was particularly interested in the dance program.  I always loved dancing and had heard about an outstanding performing dance class at Berkeley High called Dance Productions that drew many kids to its performances.  I went to one performance and was completely blown away to say the least.  I was coming from Saint Mary’s, where the dance class put on a small performance with a moderate, polite audience, so the roaring drunken crowds spilling over the balcony with enthusiasm, the lights spinning everywhere, and the talented dancers still transfixing the screaming students, overwhelmed me.  

            As the dance program started, the curtains swung open and the screaming rose to what felt like well over 100 decibels.  It surrounded me, reverberating in my chest and filling every square inch of the theatre.  Flecks of light kept washing over my face and I realized that a disco ball had been lowered and colored lights were being beamed at the ball causing it to shimmer in every direction.  The dancers, all dressed in crazy flamboyant costumes, and displaying equally crazed expressions, were darting over the stage, sometimes briefly pausing for the occasional salsa move.  One girl was even wearing a bright clown suit, complete with wig and red nose.  The energy and passion that was emanating from that stage and circling the theatre had me transfixed.  I had never experienced anything like it.  I also realized that if I ever wanted to be part of something like this, I would have to risk leaving Saint Mary’s and everything I knew, and venture off to Berkeley High.  The question still was, what did I value more: a successful future in cross country, or the possibility of finding something I love within Berkeley High?  Even though Saint Mary’s had given me a good foundation, I wanted to expand and try new things that were only offered at Berkeley, like the dance and music program.  In the end, Berkeley High won.

            Once at Berkeley High, I also discovered mountain biking.  In the past, I had gone on various rides in Marin and around the Bay Area with my parents, but had never seriously thought about doing this as a competitive sport.  It was the beginning of a new cross country for me.  The Berkeley High Mountain Biking team, although far more relaxed than the Saint Mary’s Cross Country team, helped to fill the hole in my life that running once had occupied.  With each ride, my passion for biking grew, and I found myself competing once again, this time in the Nor Cal League races.

            Mid season, because in my division I was ranked top five in the League, I got to race for the league in the Sea Otter Classic at the Laguna Seca race track.  The race track was about a hundred miles away in Monterey and we decided to stay the night.  The next morning as our car slowly inched up over the roadway leading into the race, we gradually had a complete view of the race way and rolling hills surrounding it.  Cars with shimmering windshields covered the massive dirt parking lots for miles around, and people were shouting directions right and left.  Once down at the race track, I had to haul my mountain bike over a makeshift bridge, only to discover a whole new arena filled with rows and rows of team tents where the riders congregated for their last bike tune up before a race.  Flashy sponsor logos were plastered to every surface possible, enticing cyclists to buy their latest product, and food vendors had people posted in the middle of the walk way, shoving their new energy drink on passers by.  People proudly wheeling around their 5000 dollar bikes swarmed every inch of the race way, and teens on their BMX bikes kept swerving in our path, jumping on and off awkwardly in their skater shoes.  The race itself was a grueling yet beautiful twenty mile course with over a thousand feet of climbing.  By the end, I was exhausted, mud splattered, wet, and in complete bliss.  Just like cross country, I took joy in this feeling of energy drain and hard work.  It was an amazing experience, and one I will not forget.  I knew I would be always involved in some way with biking.

            So fast forward:  here I am near the middle of my last year at Berkeley and found how to navigate outside my comfort zone.  I played violin for two years in the orchestra, auditioning for, and making first violin by junior year, and successfully auditioned into Dance productions two times.  The experience of performing in these two arts was the fulfillment of the risk I took leaving Saint Mary’s.  In some sense, it was living a dream.  I ran cross country sophomore year, yet was uninspired without Coach Rogers, but did end up competing for one season with the mountain biking team and would have done it again had it not been for herniated discs in my back.  I sometimes think about St. Mary’s and their outstanding cross country program with Coach Rogers, but I don’t regret leaving for Berkeley.  There is so much to do here and so much to take with me to the next phase of my life.