Passion

The sad truth about life is that people will go through their entire lives not knowing what they love. And even when they do, they don’t know how to express their love. This is greatly due to the fact that today’s society has made it a commonplace to “compliment” or “appreciate” the very thing that we hold most dear – whether it be people or activities. There is always that same thought that races through our mind no matter how much we love something: does what I love fit the social norm. As someone who has found something that they are passionate about, running track (I know crazy right), I have experienced this particularly soul-crushing feeling. Something that has always stuck with me is when one “popular” person flat-out told me, out of nowhere and for no particular reason, that track was not a real sport, and only losers participated in it. While I never liked this person, what he said stuck with me for a regrettable amount of time. However, I was fortunate enough to meet the person who showed me that being passionate about something is not something to be ashamed of – this person is named Kenny Lemely.

Kenny and I met when I was a junior in high school. At the time Kenny was an incoming freshman, filled to the brim with high hopes and aspirations. And like sooooooooooo many others, we met at track practice.
When it came to deciding where to go, with either the sprinters or distance, for whatever reason Kenny decided to run with distance. Now this decision should have been my first indicator on what kind of person Kenny was, only someone crazy joined distance, especially when that person didn’t do cross country in the fall.

I was happy to be proven right. Kenny was crazy – crazy passionate about running. For whatever reason Kenny had this unexplainable joy when he was told that it was time to state running, something that I had never seen before in a distance runner. The typical runner always looks at the week’s workouts as if darkness had consumed their lives knowing that no matter how much we tried to persuade our coach, we would have to inevitably feel the immense pain of a 400s workout. Kenny did not present these qualities, he was excited for them, and to me that was baffling.

Throughout my high school experience with Kenny, I have never known him to give anything less than his all for this sport. Even when he makes a questionable decision, like when he decides to eat ice cream or three slices of pizza before a workout (true story), he always radiates happiness for this sport. Something that until recently I never truly understood.

I had always liked track, there was something about the team that I always connected with, something that I always loved. However, because we live in an environment that promotes fake friends and fake compliments, I was always afraid to express my love. Kenny was able to change that in me. He taught me that to be happy we need to share with everyone what we love, not hoard it to ourselves. Only through expressing our passions can we see who our real friends are and who are just “friends.” And without Kenny, I would have never learned this fundamental aspect of life; I would not be who I am today without him as a friend.