Every year, the cross-country team from my high school traveled to a local college for a five-day running camp. In 2003, I was the sole freshman to attend.
As high schoolers do, there was a fair share of light-hearted hazing directed toward me, the low man on the totem pole. It culminated on the final day of camp, when I was dared to douse junior Ross Schomburg with a bucket of water. Young and seeking approval, I did it.
Schomburg proceeded to chase me halfway across the campus, eventually catching me, tackling me to the ground and giving me a few shots to the ribs. When it was over, though, he smiled, pulled me to my feet and gave me a love tap. And in that moment, I knew I was really a part of the team.
That may seem like a trivial story to spend column inches on, but I was reminded of that incident after receiving the devastating news that Schomburg's life was cut short by a tragic car accident just a few days before Spring Break. He was 23.
Despite the circumstances, I've come to appreciate the bonds I still share with my former teammates years after we went our separate ways.
Ball State University students who are part of athletic teams should never take those friendships for granted. Where other relationships fade with time, the bonds of a team never seem to wane.
Some of my best memories come from being a cross-country runner. We would sneak off from practice to toss a Frisbee around. We had our traditional pasta dinners on Thursdays. We engaged in countless juvenile shenanigans on bus rides to and from meets. Being a part of that team gave me an identity at a time when so many young people struggle to figure out exactly who they are.
Schomburg and I never particularly got along. He was always on a bit of an ego trip, and I was the overachieving underclassman who wasn't afraid to gloat when I beat the older guys in races. Despite our petty differences, news of his death was devastating nonetheless.
As news of the accident started to spread, I began to receive text messages and phone calls from teammates I hadn't heard from in years. We reminisced about the good times, especially those that included Schomburg.
It was therapeutic, but it still caught me off guard. I was shocked at how easy it was to pick up exactly where we'd left off. It was like the season had just ended yesterday.
In the days following Schomburg's death, I had the privilege of spending significant time with my former teammates. We discussed college life and love lives and traded 21st birthday stories. After the funeral service, a group of us went on a late-night memorial run to honor the memory of our fallen teammate.
Through the grief, I've come to realize that the bonds of a team can outlast almost anything. We spent countless hours running countless miles together, so perhaps it shouldn't have come as a surprise at how easy it was to pick that back up.
Every Ball State student-athlete should cherish those relationships. The sweat, the hard work and the determination that goes into preparing every day helps form a connection within a team that is unlike anything else. It's so easy to forget that once you've moved on. That is, until a tragedy brings you all back together.
It is unfortunate that it took the death of a teammate to bring our team back together. I understand now the importance of those friendships, and I plan to work harder to maintain them than I had before. I can take comfort in the fact that the relationships I share with my cross-country teammates cannot be diminished by something as feeble as time.
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