Past && Achievement

CAYLA'S STORY;

*my past, abridged :)

My name is Cayla May Vichot. Growing up in a Christian society, I went to a school full of kids named after people from the Bible. You know, the Joshuas and the Calebs and the Marys and the Zerubbabels (okay, maybe not Zerubbabel). Whenever they would be given the question, "What does your name mean," or, "Why are you named that," they would be able to reply with a loud and proud, "I was named after MARY, the mother of JESUS. MY name has SIGNIFICANT meaning!" Alas, when that question came around to me, I would reply with a quiet, "IwasnamedafteragirlfromasoapoperawhowasinlovewithaguywithaneyepatchwhosenamewasPatch." Did that take you a moment to read? Have you deciphered it at all? If not, don't worry; the people who would strain to hear my answer couldn't make it out either. Simply put, my mother loved the soap opera called Days Of Our Lives, and the character named (you guessed it) Cayla caught her attention. It's a funny story, so I don't tell it with as much hesitancy as I used to. Also, once I asked my mom why she named me what she did, the response wasn't half bad.

My mother named me Cayla because the name was unique (spelling it with a "c" and not a "k" helped the cause, as well). There really was no other reason for naming me what she did; at the time, no one had the name Cayla.

In middle school I was required to look up my name meaning for an assignment. Two definitions constantly arose: one was "pure," and another was, "crown of laurel." For those of you who are like me and are not nature-savvy, I will tell you what Google.Com told me: that a "laurel" is the leaf that the Olympians put on their heads as crowns in ancient Greece. As a track and field competitor, being named after an Olympian's crown holds weight in my mind. I can appreciate what my name means (and yes, even how I got it), knowing that God knew me even before my mom had decided on a name and was in control over all of it.

I don't have any siblings, so that could only mean one thing: I am an only child! My dad left our home when I was two years old, so until I was eight it was just my mom, my grandma, and myself functioning in our own little family unit. When I turned eight, though, my mom married a man who easily morphed into our little family.  As aforementioned, I was born and raised in a Christian community called Gig Harbour, Washington. Gig Harbour is actually a lot like the Kirkland area, just... smaller, and with a LOT more elderly people. It's a retirement city for sure (hence all of the restless teenagers with nothing to do except the illegal), and is a wealthy place. My environment has definitely affected me - in some ways, good, and in other ways, not so good, but one thing it has done for me: it has brought me closer to my Jesus and my God. My mom enrolled me in a Christian school, showered me with her love, and would take me to church with her every Sunday. At said church - Chapel Hill Presbyterian Church - I never really developed any real sense of belonging or fellowship. I was only in the single digits of my years, so maybe I couldn't have expected that out of my younger-self; in the same way, I never really associated myself with any sort of church denomination. To me, a Christian was just that - a Christian. What else could you be? We all loved Jesus. I have come to stick by that conviction; even though I can now see why there are denominations, loving Jesus always seems to level the playing field.

The Lord has been in my life in ways that are so evident, if only I would open my eyes a little wider to really see! One thing He has done is paved my way to Northwest University. During my senior year of high school I was definitely found being slightly (if not moreso) worried about how on earth I was going to come up with the finances for such an expensive school. Thankfully, I was already connected with people at Northwest during my senior year, and so the 2010 Choralons CD made its way into my iTunes library. The song "Waymaker" encouraged me, saying, "I have no reason to doubt Him; I know too much about Him. He's a waymaker." HE provided the finances. HE gave me favour in the scholarship department. Now it's my responsibility to use His gift to the fullest for His Kingdom and Glory. I am now able to attend classes, run track, and sing in Choralons which encouraged me during my senior year in order to attest to the power of God in my life by the simple fact that I am here.  

As far as determining my major, I am Undeclared. Is that because I don't know what God is calling me to yet? Is it because I am unsure where my passions should be focused on? Yup, pretty much. But I believe that God definitely paved my way to be here at Northwest, and I do NOT believe that He would have provided so greatly to NOT show me something. I am ready for Isaiah 6:8 to be true in my life - for God to reveal to me the details of the direction that He has pointed me in and to guide me along the narrow path of my life! He has BIG plans. Big plans.

CAYLA'S ACHIEVEMENT;

Heat. Sweat. Adrenaline. A pulse beating like a drum in my ear. Focus. Information - when to pass the baton off. Speed. Speed.

"Last call, 4x100 meter relay!"

Go time.

Track State, whether you are in a 4a or 2b league, is a stressful event that heaps on more panic at the end of your school year than you ever had before. Countless hours of practice go into your hand-offs, your starts, the speed you are to take off at in your hand-off zone so that you don't miss your mark and get disqualified. It's all about timing; timing is key.

That was my senior year of high school. As a juniour, my 4x100 meter relay team had made it to state as well, but unfortunately we got disqualified due to a bad hand-off. Thus, going into state with the 4x100 my senior year with a group consisting of the same girls was, needless to say, nerve-wracking. Each mind was consumed with the possibility of handing the baton off outside of the zone, or even worse: dropping it (which would be akin to dropping a baby; I am really not kidding).

As my 4x100 team stepped up to the starting line, I could practically taste the tension in the air. It was the taste of nerves - of intensity - of possibility. So much possibility.

We divided up into our hand-off zones. I put down my steps - marked my place - took of my steps - stretched and loosened up in place.

It's difficult to transliterate the feeling that goes through an athlete's chest right before the big moment. For the basketball player stepping up to the free-throw line with a one point difference and five seconds left on the clock, the soccer player with one defender and having the opportunity to make the deciding goal in a tied game, or the track runner preparing for a hand-off, it all comes down to a few seconds. Those few seconds, whether three or five or even ten, will decide everyone's effort on the field, court, and track thus far. Those few deciding seconds send the blood racing through your veins, telling you with each pump to, "Go. Go. Go." You don't think of anything else - not your form, the basket, the ball, or the baton, but simply to go, to score, and to win.

Go. Score. Win.

The gun went off. The baton made its way around the track. My hand-off came up. I ran.

"Stick!" The cold metal of the baton landed in my hand. I grasped it. Hard. I ran. Faster. Faster. Faster. Wind. Focus. The finish line.

We had won the 4x100 meter relay at track state. We also went on to claim the title for the 4x200 meter relay, as well as placing in the 4x400 meter relay. We were praised; never before had we taken so many titles for the girls relay teams for our school at one meet. And yet, it wasn't the praise for myself that I was cherishing, but for my entire relay team.

It's interesting, because, as we stepped up onto the podium to receive our first place medals, we all felt the excitement of being called as "the state champions." We were beyond thrilled to get a blue medal instead of a red or white one. And yet, as I stepped off from the podium after the team picture, I didn't really feel much of anything. The excitement was fading fast. Everyone was putting their attention on the next event. The 4x100 was no longer as important as it was five seconds ago.

Come to realize, it wasn't necessarily the "moment of winning" that I appreciated most, but each individual moment within the entire relay. Each person's hand-off, speed, and timing was executed with precision and skill. Each member of the team had worked hard to pull of the entire relay, and by the time it was over, that was really all we had left: the clichéd phrase of  "the satisfaction of a job well done." But, when you do that job, yourself, the "cliché-ness" kind of goes away, and you actually start to really understand what it means to be proud of an accomplishment, not because other people are proud of you, but because it was a hurdle that you had to overcome (track pun intended).

For Ellie, Paige, McKenna, and Cayla, at Track State 2011 at Eastern Washington University running for Tacoma Baptist High School, we had each overcome our own individual hurdles for our relays, and in the end, we came out on top.

Hard work? Over-rated? Hardly.