I tied my shoes extra tight that day for our last track meet. It was the perfect running day. Warm, yet not hot, and no wind. The sun was shining, but not too bright.


I love that feeling you get when you take that first step onto the track. I jumped up and down twice, just to feel the rubber within the track. I was perfectly content, not nervous, or anxious, I simply wanted to savor every moment. I soon found myself lined behind the white line labeled 2, for an easy merge into the first lane.


I stood there, as the stadium became silent, waiting in anticipation for the sound of the gunfire. I looked up and saw what appeared to be 100’s of eyes peering down at me in eagerness for the upcoming event. Then the gunfire sounded, and before I knew it, my legs were moving faster than ever, and the wind running through my hair.


As I go around the track, I barely feel my legs moving beneath me. Lap after lap, it suddenly became harder to move what once felt like nothing. I was 3 laps away, and knew I had to finish this.


I began concentrating so hard on each step I took and breath I inhaled, then exhaled. Soon, I found myself just 200 meters away from the finish and in second place. I was so tired at this point I could have fallen over, but instead I dug deep to find any source of energy and push as hard as I possibly could. My legs so tired, it felt like sprinting on air, and I felt nothingness.


When I passed the girl in front of me, I smiled, and pushed even harder to have a better finish. Though I felt like I was dead I managed a smile as everyone was applauding me.