Love Letter to Sports


Estelle L. '24

Fiona L. ’24 with her hunk, Track

Dear Track,

Oh, how I’ve missed you. 

Each day, I walk to my car as the clock strikes 3:10, passing the flag post where we once met in secret every afternoon. It pains me so, brushing past that special place without so much as a glance. I long for the days when I was welcomed into your loving arms. Each afternoon I ran in circles around you. I gave you everything. When you asked me to sprint circuits, I did so without complaint. When you asked me to endure grueling tasks to prove my love for you, I did so unflinchingly. You even had a silly little name for these feats of bravery—planks, I think you called them. My muscles screamed in pain as I ran harder, faster for your favor. 

And when I showed up to our dates, prepared to spend all of 800 meters with you, you asked that I stay for 1600 instead. Despite my absolute and utter loathing of so long a date, I complied, just to please you. I spent hours standing in the rain, wearing just a tank-top and shorts as the wind clawed at my face, waiting for even the slightest hint of your affection. I gave you my all. And, for all my love, I watched you grant others your favor. That fateful day of the Metro finals, when you turned your attention to her—it was one of the worst of my life. I watched, mere paces away, as you bestowed upon her the affection that I so badly craved. 

And after everything we had been through, you didn’t even have the courage to tell me that you were leaving me for her yourself. I had to find out along with everyone else. But even though you broke my heart, I still love you. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I love you, and I will never stop loving you. So pick me. Choose me. Love, me. 

When we meet again this spring after so many months apart, I hope you catch the familiar sight of my flattering singlet and ponytail swinging gracefully in the air, and remember the girl you once loved. 

Love is pain, and I really love you.