I’m writing this from cross country camp–our annual tradition of running too many miles, eating too much pasta, and pretending sleeping in bunk beds is somehow good for “team bonding.” Two years ago, I was here in the exact same camp in who knows where Illinois, but I was a very different person. My life was different, my running was different, and frankly, my people were different.

Back then, I was really nervous about running and looking stupid around my new team. I thought I understood myself, but really, I was about as self-aware as a goldfish. I thought the world revolved around the next meet and my next PR.

Here’s the thing: somewhere between then and now, I grew up. I run faster, yes, but I also handle more–emotionally and mentally. I’m more mature, which is kind of a depressing way of saying, “Congrats, you’re older now, and the universe has kicked you around enough to toughen you up.” Still, I’m proud of the ways I’ve changed.

It’s funny how time and reflection work. When you’re younger, you don’t realize you’re in the middle of becoming someone different. Then one day you wake up, lace up your running shoes, and realize you’ve been building a sturdier version of yourself. That’s not just training mileage–that’s self-actualization. Yeah, I said it. Maslow would be proud.

I’ve become a firm believer that self-awareness is like a secret key. Once you start paying attention to who you are–your strengths, your weaknesses, the way you react under pressure–you suddenly unlock doors you didn’t even know existed. It’s not always pretty, but it’s real. And maybe that’s what growing up is: becoming aware of your own life, not just sprinting through it.

So yes, I’m at cross country camp again. Same bunk beds, same hills, same late-night card games that somehow always end in an argument. But this time, I’m not just running laps–I’m recognizing that life’s lap counter doesn’t stop, and I’ve actually learned how to pace myself. Two years ago, I thought people would judge me off of my athletic performance. Today, I know the only race that matters is the race we call life.

Through and and all self-actualization, I’m just Jonathan.