Race

It was almost time, almost time to show the world what she could do. She was at the Summer Olympics in Melbourne, Australia  and had been firmly declared the underdog of the entire competition. She supposed they were right, she was a brand new face at these races, nobody had ever heard her name before. She came from a small town right outside of Whichita, Kansas. 

She approached the starting position, seeing the metal blocks at the white painted line with other racers flocking towards them as well. After all the racers stood, waiting at the line for the starter to walk to the platform to start the race.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Again and again and again she repeated this process, again and again and again. Her fists were clenched tightly at her side, her eyes shut as she inhaled, and exhaled, and then repeated. 

She knelt down to the ground, her eyes now open. One leg carefully moving backwards bracing herself for the jolt that she knew was soon coming. She heard others doing the same. She felt the scalding concrete against her hands and tried to ignore the little pebbles that dug into her hands as she put more of her weight on them. 

“Ready,” a voice amplified by a megaphone yelled. She lifted her back upwards and lifted up her knee from where it was sitting on the hot concrete floor. She looked straight ahead, “mind over matter,” is what her coach had told her countless times. However, the matter right now was that she was going up against some of the most skilled people in the country, and who was she? A nobody from Kansas that as far as most people thought, had no business being even anywhere close to this race. 

“Set,” the voice continued, seeming almost bored. The voice broke her thoughts, and sent her into a mindset of laserlike focused on one thing, and one thing only, winning. Proving those that said that she couldn’t do it wrong, and proving to herself what she always knew; that she was more than just a nobody, she was everything that she ever wanted to be.

“Go,” the voice finished. She immediately ran forward getting a quick head start. The 100 meter sprint was always a close race, there was never any guarantee that you would win. Any small error could immediately push you out of the way of winning. But she was determined to not make any mistakes, to instead push herself closer to winning. One step, two step, three step, one right after another she led the charge of the race, being a few inches in front of the rest of the racers who she knew could take her lead at any time.

Eleven steps, twelve steps, then thirteen, her feet pounded over the concrete, her eyes still focused on the finish line. Twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, she was so close, almost halfway there. Thirty four, thirty five thirty six, she could taste the victory that she was now confident would come. Forty seven, forty eight, forty nine, so very close to victory, her few inch gap had now widened into a few feet. Fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine, just a couple more steps, she reached out her arm. Sixty one, sixty two, sixty three, her feet crossed the finish line. 

The once bored sounding megaphone voice shouts excitedly, “and we have a winner!” He continues to rattle off her name and where she is from, but all she can focus on is the fact that she did it, that she won. and all she can do is smile. 

Her mom calls from the roaring crowd, “you did it! You did it!” She runs to her mother in the stand and wraps her sweaty arms around her, her mother still cheering loudly in her ear. 

She looked up at the sky, it’s sun shining down on her as if saying, “good job.” Her smile widened and her eyes closed as she felt the warmth of her mother’s embrace and the sweat running down her forehead. She unraveled herself from her mother and made her way to the booth where they hand out times. She got her time, one of her personal bests, and returned to the stands to watch the rest of the races. 

“Hey, you did a great job out there, number 958 right?” a male voice asked from over her shoulder. She turned to get a good look at him, he was tall, at least six feet, and had a head of short dark brown hair that just hovered over his eyebrows.

“Yeah, that’s me, were you watching?” She asked him curiously, a small smile playing on her lips.

The boy flushed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “Yeah, I’ve gone to most of these meets, I’m Leo Francis,” he said, offering a hand.

Her eyes widened in recognition, “Leo Francis, as in Leonard Francis, the 800 meter championship racer, Leo Francis?” She questioned incredulously.

The boy looked even more sheepish, “yeah, I just wanted to say that you did a great job today,” Leo said.

She offered him a big grin, “thanks Leo,” she said brightly, “aren’t you up soon?” she questioned.

Leo’s eyes widened comically, “Yeah, yeah! I need to go, I’ll see you around 958,” Leo said hurriedly, rushing down the bleachers. Then her turned back and ran back up and put a small crumpled piece of paper in her hand. 

“What’s this?” she asked with a slight turn of his head.

Leo flushed a deep red, “my number, just in case you um, wanted to meet up again, after the races.” On the paper, in slightly smeared flowing handwriting it read, “498-6752-435” with a small smiley face at the end. “Bye for real this time, call me soon.” he said with a small smile on his face.

“Bye Leo,” she said a little bit breathlessly as her cheeks turned rosy, she told herself it was just because she was tired from the race. She let out a long sigh of happiness, it seemed that everything was looking up for her.