The fond memory of a runner

Time to hammer...

11:00 pm. POW
We're running.
Curve.
Straight-away.
Get out of the trash.
Curve.
Straight-away.
Three to go.
Relax, and get comfy.

Somewhere deep inside me, I know. I don't have to think. My body knows what to do. I'm running harder than I've ever begun a race before. Tonight's the night. This is the year. Senior year. I'm going to make it to regionals if I have to grow wings and fly across the finish line.

Fifty meters to the 800m mark.
Get ready.
Half way there.
Time to hammer...


This is the lap I've been visualizing all season. This is the lap I've been training for for two years. This is the purpose for the agony I have voluntarily endured for weeks, months. I'm breaking a trend, the barrier that has kept me from prolonging said agony for another two weeks since freshman year. This is the most crucial lap of my life (little did I know, then).

Hammering.
Good position.
1, 2, 3, me.
No, wait--
I am 3!
400 meters left.
Hold it.
Hold it.

The last lap is all about heart. Strategy has nothing to do with it, not intentionally, anyway.

300 meters.
1, 2, me...
200 meters.
1, 2, 3...me.
No!
150...I want it more.
100 meters.
  
These last 100 meters are filled with pain, dread, fear, and hunger. My legs have never run this fast (I swear I grew shorter with each step). I pass my target, the third place runner at the time, on the outside at the 100 meter mark. First and second place are inches in front of her. She is blocked in, nowhere to go. To my former coach and others, I look as if I had planned it this way. Strategy. I wish I could take credit. Really, I am just determining in my mind that I CANNOT BARE ANOTHER "RUNNER-UP" FINISH.

 ...

The four of us crossed the finish line within two seconds of each other. Had my mind been present, maybe I could have summoned enough strength to take first. But that wasn't important. I was moving on. I had earned regionals. I fell into the arms of a friend, not strong enough to carry my body another step. The White Gazelle finished only seconds later. When she gathered her bearings, she came over to congratulate me, giving me a light shove on the shoulders out of excitement. I went down like a sack of potatoes; my heart and strength were still on the track.