Joshua

"When I first started walking, I walked on my toes. My mom said: My son is going to be a track star."

By Students of NYC

December 5^th, 2025

My mom always tells me when I first started walking, I walked on my toes. She was like, my son is going to be a runner. He’s going to be a track star. Now, she still says: 'Joshua, I spoke it into existence.' I grew up in St. Thomas, a rural part of Barbados. I was always running. We had a backyard, but the grass was so tall, so I’d run around the house, all around the neighborhood. My neighbor had a dog, and sometimes he would chase me. When they finally cut down the tall grass, I’d run in the backyard all the time. The feeling of running has never changed: When you're in a race and nothing else in the world matters but what you're doing at that moment — it's kind of like that.

My parents put me in a track club by the time I was 6. We would practice at this huge stadium. By the time I was 8, I represented Barbados' national team. All the Caribbean nations compete in the CUT games. And I was the youngest on the team, traveling to the Virgin Islands without my parents. At the time, I had this tiny phone, called a blue phone, and the battery would die almost immediately when I tried to call them or text them. I had never not had my parents with me, and after the first race, I think I just got so nervous that I imagined my hamstring pulled. I told my coach I couldn’t run the second race, so they put a sub in for me, and he didn't place. Then, my coach called my parents and gave me the phone. They told me, 'Joshua, go out there and give it your all.' Suddenly, my leg felt better. My parents gave me a comfort that I can’t explain. I’m telling you, nobody else is going to look out for you other than the people who truly love you. So I came back in and ran in the third relay. When I got the baton, we were in third place. There was a runner from Trinidad in front of me. But I felt so motivated, I caught him, and that got us the silver medal.

Barbados is a small island, so everyone knows each other. It got to a point where people would place bets on me when I’m running. I was like a little star. I loved that. I studied super hard to get into a good school for middle school, but when I turned 12, as soon as I started, we got the opportunity to move to America. I don’t want to tell the whole immigrant story, but my mom always wanted her children to grow up here. Because of the opportunity. But when we arrived in Brooklyn, things were just so different. It was February, so cold. I couldn’t run outside. Barbados, I spoke to everyone, but here, everyone seemed so separate — I didn't even speak to my neighbors. Thinking about it now, it’s really sad.

I started going to school, and my accent was so thick, people did not understand a word I said. Math class was easy — I had learned everything and more in Barbados. But then it was time for ELA class, and they started talking about claim, evidence, all this stuff I’d never heard of. I was devastated. I knew education was important — I would never take that for granted, especially an education here in America. I’d come home and practice ELA, and also my speech, trying to get rid of my accent by talking to myself in the mirror. And the worst part was: There was no track team. Then, just three weeks after I started school, COVID hit.

There were two things that got me through that dark time: basketball and a squirrel named Jojo. I know that sounds weird, but hear me out. First, I bought myself a basketball, and even though I never played, I’d watch YouTube videos and teach myself how to dribble. There were a group of kids that always played at the park nearby. I’d walk over, and honestly, people are more open than you think. That’s what I learned. I thought maybe they wouldn’t want me to play because I was just learning, but they let me play right away. At first, seeing how I was still learning to dribble, they didn’t pass to me so much. But eventually, they learned to trust me, and I got better. I played every day and it helped so much in the absence of being able to run.

And then there was Jojo. I noticed that squirrels would run around out back of my apartment. One day I put some walnuts and almonds back there, and when I came back, they were gone. I did it again — same thing. So then, I’d start to put them back around the same time, around 3 p.m., and stay to be present. They’d still come. Eventually there was this one squirrel, I named her Jojo. She was so sweet. So every day I would come out and scream, 'Jojo!' and she’d come running on the power line, against the fence. She would come right up to me, and take the walnut right out of my hand. Sometimes she’d go bury it and come back. She came every single day for maybe four months. Then one day, I came out and called her, but she didn’t come. I kept trying for like a week or so, but I never saw her again.

When I started high school, I was ready to run again. Roosevelt doesn’t have the space to train year-round, so I joined a local track club called MNTC. We practiced in Central Park. I competed in the PSAL freshman/sophomore city championship event and came in first place in the hundred meter. When they announced it on the school’s loudspeaker, people were like, oh my god! That’s how Mr. Sargeant found out about me. He knew that I would flourish with more serious year-round training, and suggested that I go train with another school in Brooklyn where he had a connection.

At first, I didn’t take his advice.

But the next year, I noticed that I wasn’t getting faster. I said, something’s not right. I should be getting faster every race. So I approached Mr. Sargeant, and he connected me with the Frank J. Macchiarola Campus in Sheepshead Bay. But the time I got down there, practice was over. Sargeant had the coach text me their practice routine, and I’d train alone in the open gym every night. That's when I began to see crazy progress. Sophomore year, I made the state championships.

Some days, I’d have trouble keeping my eyes open in school. I was so tired. Every day people would ask me, why do you do this? Why do you train every day? And I can’t explain the answer. There’s just something inside me that feels like if I don’t give it my all every single day, I’m not living. It’s hard to balance it all. But that sacrifice has never been a question for me. It’s never been a question. I applied to Cornell, early decision. I want to walk onto the track team there. I know I'm not the fastest I can be. And part of it is because I always prioritized my education. I still feel like if I hadn't stopped running for those couple years, if I had the chance to be part of a team in middle school, I'd be further along. I'd be being recruited for a D1 school somewhere. I'm not the fastest, yet. I am going to keep running. I'm going to make it, watch."