West Point, to thee
Calli McMullen, Track & Field
Finding My Peace
By God’s grace, the support of my family and the dedication of my coaches, I am the athlete that I never knew I could be. Being a track athlete at West Point has brought a world of success that I would not have without those who believed in me. Thus, this testimony is for them. I am beyond grateful to have achieved everything that I have, but I honestly did not even think that any of my experiences were possible. In fact, if anyone would have told me as a kid that I’d be running track at West Point, I would have laughed in their face. Little did I know that throughout my entire life, running was in my bones.
I knew from an early age that I could run. In fact, I was good at running. As a child though, I never took it seriously. The city track coach would come to my elementary school every year to host try-outs for his summer team. As a child, I was not aware that they were try-outs; I simply thought it was another day of recess. Nevertheless, even in elementary school, I would beat kids in those races, but every year, I turned down that opportunity. In my family, my older sister and I were the artistic ones, while my older brother was the athletic one. That was how it was supposed to be. My sister was a singer and public speaker, I was the classical ballerina and my brother was the football and track star. So early on, I never saw track as an opportunity. It wasn’t until my freshman year of high school that my perspective changed.
It was through my college experience, that track became my identity. It became every reason why I found purpose in my day.
My high school P.E. teachers, who also coached the track team, knew that I was a dancer. They reasoned that I’d be able to contribute to the track team as a jumper. That’s how they convinced me to join. So, my daily routine at track practice involved me warming up and heading straight to the high jump mat, and I was satisfied with this. One day, all the older girls on the team started bickering with each other about who was the better athlete. It became an intense word battle that the rest of the team swore was going to break out into a fist fight.
The head coach, Coach Andre Warthen, who was a smooth-talking southern man, stepped into the middle of the commotion. With a slight southern accent, he calmly stated, “We’ll settle this right now. Everybody step on the line.” When he said “everybody,” I thought he was referring to the runners. I quickly realized that I was wrong as members of every event group stepped up. A flush of nerves hit my body because I had never done this before.
I didn’t even own track spikes, I was wearing cheerleading shoes. I felt ill-equipped and ill-prepared. Nevertheless, when Coach blew that whistle, I let myself go. I ran like my life depended on it. 400 meters later, I found myself the winner of that race. Trust me when I say that I was just as shocked as everyone else. That day, I was no longer just a high jumper. I secured a spot as the team’s newest 400-meter runner. For the next three years, I would go on to win the State Championship title in the 400-meter dash for the state of Georgia. For the last two years of high school, the combined efforts of my teammates earned us the State Championship title as a team.
By the end of my high school career, track had secured its place in my heart as a passion. However, it was through my college experience, that track became my identity. It became every reason why I found purpose in my day. It was the lens that God used to work through me.
During my freshman year of college, I lost a lot of confidence in myself. Naturally, going through Beast Barracks at West Point forced me to take a step back from leadership and learn to follow. Beyond that, I was now in a place where everything was new. It seemed like everyone else was just as good as or better than me. I was at a loss for who I was.
The first person who encouraged me through that time, who served as my mentor, and who challenged me, was my Coach, Joseph Reed. For his dedication to me, I vowed to myself that every ounce of effort I ever possessed would be owed to making him the best coach. Since then, Coach Reed has been by my side every step of the way. He was there on the hardest training days when I didn’t think I had another rep in me. And he was there in those short moments when I stood on the podium that made all the hard days worth it.
He would humbly deny this statement, but without Coach Reed, I would have never gained the confidence, grit, and fortitude it took to accomplish the things that I have. In one of my first few meetings with Coach Reed as a freshman, he had me complete a goal sheet, that he still has to this day. On that sheet, one of my goals was to “place in the top five in the Patriot League.” I must laugh at myself now for my timid nature because I am currently writing this as someone who holds eight school records, five Patriot League major award titles and more wins than I could possibly count. None of it would have been possible without my supporters in my corner.
Although the end of my collegiate track career came sooner than expected, I am so grateful for the journey that I have had because it was such a thrill.
With everything I have accomplished, there were still things that I can say that I wanted to do. However, with my outdoor season being cut due to the world’s circumstances, I must face the reality that those goals will not be met. Although the end of my collegiate track career came sooner than expected, I am so grateful for the journey that I have had because it was such a thrill.
I know that my coaches will continue to recruit great athletes. I also know that I can find joy in knowing that my younger teammates have another opportunity to do what they love. My prayer is that everyone in the world finds peace during this time. My peace is in realizing that through track, I have completed the mission that God has given me at this point in my life’s journey.
To read all of the letters in the West Point, to thee series, please click this link.