There is a track that I run. It is an everlasting track with hurdles, and bumps, and cracks. I run it all the time never stopping for a breathe or water. It is a track that I can never stop running. It is life. In my track, there is one tough hurdle, one too high for me to handle. The only thing is that I can make it over if try at it and work hard. The hurdle... is type one or juvenile diabetes.

As a ten year old in the fourth grade, I listened to words roll off my doctor's tongue, "The results are positive," she said with a hint of melancholy in her sweet voice. I heard the words, I saw the words, but I just couldn't grasp them.
Diabetes is when I no longer am able to produce a hormone called insulin since my pancreas has failed me which is the organ that produces it. Insulin keeps my blood glucose at the right level. I must now manually inject insulin into my body.

As a ten year old, the concept seemed about as bad as a time out, it was no big deal to me. But now as a teenager, the harsh words play over and over like a broken record. The words are painted on a giant brick wall in front of me. I cry for myself, for the people around me having to feel my stress, but it is times like those that I do not think of this, "It could be so much worse."

I have friends and family around me, supporting me, cheering me on from the sidelines as I attempt to leap over the hurdle. If I miss, a burst of cheers comes from the side with the encouragement that will help me over. There are ups and downs, and it is I who must do the work and help myself, but it is my family and all of my friends who do the most.