To the reader: This article originally appeared in Student Life’s annual April Fools’ issue. Please don’t take anything in it as fact. We made it all up.
I am the one and only cross-country reporter at Student Libel. Every day I look into the mirror, marvel at my image, and remind myself of the special and prestigious job I have.
Today, I can’t help but be ecstatic about my job. This morning, I jump out of my bed after a sleepless night. My mind just wanders with all the possibilities today might bring.
This afternoon is the meet of all meets: the We Will Pay You to Come Watch Cross Country Invitational. I just have this feeling that the meet will be packed with fans cheering on the athletes, of whom I am the only one to have the privilege to write about.
I also know today has important significance for the running team. If the runners can run fast enough, they will get to take a bus to Wisconsin, get off of the bus, run, get on the bus again, and return home. I can’t even imagine the excitement that this possibility must bring them. I wonder if the thought of running with the cows in the Cheese State will motivate the runners to run fast today. I repeat this question over and over in my head, praying I won’t forget to ask the runners about this after the race.
I walk over to the park where the invitational will be, armed with my paper, pen, and tape recorder. Not surprisingly, the field is packed with spectators when I first arrive. I notice that the whole crowd is lined up single file at what appears to be a concession stand. It’s 9:00 a.m., so I assume everyone is waiting to buy their first meal of the day. I decide I’m too excited to eat anything, and besides, the people in line must be dissatisfied with the menu. After reaching the front of the line, they just walk away, animatedly waving their hands, still holding their money.
I turn away from this distraction now and focus on the real excitement: the actual race. The women run first. They all line up side by side. Unfortunately, some of them forgot their running shorts. They must have thought they were participating in a swim meet today, and instead came dressed in their Speedo like bottoms.
The runners stretch and again stand in line. Suddenly a shot goes off, obviously scaring the runners, who start sprinting away from the gun. I guess the race has begun.
I stand at the finish line, and about fifteen minutes pass before I see the first WU runner return. She crosses the finish line and looks extremely tired. I run up to her to ask her questions before it’s too late (she looks like she’s about to pass out on the spot).
She tells me, “It was a tough race. There were some fast runners out there, but I just ran the best that I could.”
I remember my question about Wisconsin and ask her if she’s excited to run there:
“Oh, we’re not running TO Wisconsin,” she assures me. “But yes, after this race we have two more and then hopefully we will run in Wisconsin. I’m just taking it one race at a time.”
After the interview, I couldn’t have been happier-those were the exact cliches I was hoping she would say. Completely fulfilled, I decide I’m ready to go home. Although I’m understandably exhausted I’m also extremely eager to write a good article about the meet. After all, I can’t let all two of my faithful readers down.