Just One Step

I've run my whole life. Of course, I'm an Olympic winner. I own three gold, two silver, and one bronze medals hung in my bedroom.

I was trained since I was little, and my long legs have carried me far, even around the world.

People recognise me as the great runner that won the Olympics. I side autographs on hats, books, and whatever else, and I take pictures with my fans. This always happens whenever I go out for a walk.

I love my life as a runner. And I won't ever stop running unt- until one thing, just one, changed my life forever.

I was driving my car, the smooth road stretching out in the middle of a beautiful field in a beautiful country side.

I had just won a race three days ago, and here I am, speeding towards my parents and grandparents house back at my home town, West Virginia.

Mountains lined the landscape, and little rivers gleaned in the sun. It was autumn, so brown, orange and yellow leaves were clumped up under their trees, hanging from their individual branches.

It was a lovely sight. And I had planned to live here after I got too old to run and retire. What a lovely place to live in!

My car's engine rumbled along the way, and my heart fluttered with anticipation at meeting the six adults who had changed my whole life for training and supporting me to be a runner.

My father and mother were the first ones to hear the idea, and they accepted it, wild though it was. Then they told it to each of their parents and they fully support it too.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude and started to work and train hard. For them. For family.

I think everyone who has a goal in their life has to have someone they do it for. It's not external motivation, but it's just this kind of pride. Especially if you succeed in whatever you do.

I gave up my whole life to training for running and studying all there is to know about legs, speed, and the Olympics. Not many people would be willing to do that if they don't have someone they want to make proud.

I did, and I'm happy that I did.

Suddenly, the speedometer, which was a screen, faltered, and the engine did too. I tried to stop, pulled on the brakes, but it didn't work. I was speeding, very fast, to the direction of a huge oak tree.

I gasped, as I held my hands up in a brief prayer. Then I braced myself.

The car's bumper went first, crashing into the tree so hard the tree shook. Then along came the whole front until it was squeezed. I was stuck between the wheel and my seat. I couldn't get out.

The windshield glasses shattered, and glass was flying everywhere. One scratched my cheek and one lodged itself in my hair.

A horrible feeling of pain grew in both of my legs.

I have broken them.

Along with the pain, the wave of fear has crashed onto me, engulfing me with fear, doubt, and not to mention pain.

Someone pulled up in a pick-up truck. He spotted me, trapped, and immediately contacted the police and an ambulance.

He rushed over to me and tried to pull me out, but I winced and cried out in pain, because my broken legs were stuck.

My home-coming turned into a nightmare.

Soon, police and their cars filled the side. Three burly officers' combined strength was what it took to pry the crushed metal and plastic off of me.

Once out, I spotted that both of my legs were bleeding and a sharp slab of glass had settled itself in my soleus. The gash was deep and blood trickled down from it.

I was lifted by a couple of medics, and laid my weak body down on a stretcher. I gasped for air and a medic put a breathing-helper thingy on me. The mask kind of one.

I was pale and beads of sweat appeared on my head. I was scared to death and what will happen to my parents? I hope they haven't found out, because they would get scared, worried, panic-stricken.

I didn't want that, so when they asked me for my dad's number, I just nodded my head and acted like a fool. They bought it, since they thought it had something to do with my accident.

I slept on the way to the hospital, and we arrived and I was wheeled to an available room. Standing inside was my mother, father, two grandfathers, and two grandmothers. My heart pumped in my rib-cage.

''Sorry,'' I managed to mumble, with my cracked lips. My mother had tears in her eyes, and my dad was pacing back and forth in the room.

My mother brushes a strand hair-lock behind my ear, ''No need for that, dear. We're the ones who have to say sorry.''

I managed a weak smile and I was then fussed over by many medics, and my family was ordered to wait outside by the head doctor. They solemnly nodded and went out.

I was left alone.

Realisation hit me as I was injected, bandaged, scanned, fed, given medicine, infused, put on wires, and my heartbeat beeped on the Holter beside me.

''I'm never gonna be able to run again.'' I was soon patched up temporarily, and the doctor and nurses huddled up in a corner and started whispering.

They came to a conclusion, but they didn't tell me what it was, as the head doctor went out of the room. In went my parents, their faces grim as they broke the news to me.

''Charlotte,'' My mum whispered, her eyes wide and wet, ''Y- You're gonna have to go in for an operation.'' Tears ran down her face but she smiled. She put a hand on my dad's shoulder.

Dad took the signal and started to speak, ''Charlotte, dear, you can't compete in this year's Olympics.'' or next year, or the year after that and forever, I added, mentally.

I gulped a few tears down, ''I- I understand, dad,'' another weak smile, ''I'll try to make up for it.'' I tried to sit up, but my dad pushed me back down.

''You don't have to make up for anything, Lottie,'' He smiled, despite his worried face, he smiled, ''You've done more than enough and you're the family's biggest pride.''

My mother chimed in, ''Yes, like, who wins gold medals, in the Olympics, for three years straight? You. You did. We even love the bronze medal, for it proved your hard work.''

I smiled, but stopped, because it hurt. I rested on my bed, for two whole weeks, before I start to learn to walk again.

~~~~

I slowly lifted myself from the wheelchair I used. My legs felt like lead, even though my bones weren't broken anymore, they still needed time to heal and recover their past strength.

A metal bar stood on either side of me and I walked and moved very slowly, like a snail, the kind of slow that hurts and tires, but you never want to give up.

I crawled along, and thank god my walking trainer and counsellor, Miss Meg, was very patient and kind. Whenever I tripped, she would help me up and whenever I fell down, she pulled me up.

Many things in life are hard, and that includes walking on a path with two metal bars to hold on to and broken, just fixed up, bones.

Day by day, I started making progress, until one day, I could stand on my own with my feet with crutches. I had no plans to ever run again and had almost given up the idea. Almost.

Two years after the accident, I started to train hard for this year's Olympics. I had missed the last two due to my injuries and I was determined to not miss this year's event.

I was advancing on my legs' strength and balance and I was also starting to catch up with the other runners' routine.

I could do the splits now, which was a big achievement after you've broken both of your legs.

I gained ground and was ready for the Olympics, which would take place tomorrow.

~~~~

My breath hitched as I walked out of the room where I was waiting for my name to be called out.

The crowds rose and fell, waving their hands and screaming encouragement. My heart glowed with pride.

I smiled at all my fans, and took my place at the starting line.

''Finish line.'' I thought.

The starter counted down from three, and at the sound of his gunshot, I raced forward, soon leaving all my racemates behind me.

My legs were like my wings, bringing me up to the sky. I raced past the finish line as I ended my first round around the track.

The others were still pacing behind me and one runner, Martha, her name tag said, was gaining on me.

I pushed myself forward and I went as fast as a Lockheed Martin world war jet.

It was as if I'd sprung propellers, as I was propelled forward so fast. I was bending time, breaking wind.

The red ribbon was just a few metres away. I said a silent prayer, and raced past it.

It snatched at my waist for a second, but let go of me.

The crowds erupted into loud cheers and applause. The thousands of people jumping up and down made the ground shake as I used a provided towel to wipe off my sweat.

My family came down from the stands and hugged me tight. My grandma, from my mum, was in a fit of hysterical pride as she loudly squeaked, ''My granddaughter wins! My granddaughter wins!''

I downed a whole bottle of water in a gulp, and my fans, my supporters, came down, filling the field.

My racemate, Martha, clapped me on the back and smiled at me, pride in her eyes. I thanked her and shook her hand saying, ''Next time, I'll let you win.''

Her eyes shone with mischief and she took off to the locker rooms. My other racemates reached me. Some shook my hand, looking grim and upset. Some beamed at me and laughed off their loss. Some just sulkily glared at me, for stealing their spotlight.

I grinned apologetically at that last group of people.

~~~~

As me and my family drove home, we passed the oak tree that had not only caused one of the most demise tragedies, but I sprung up and went on to flip the downfall and climb a ladder up to the top.

Never give up, whatever happens to you.

You never know what's lurking just around the corner.

Good luck and God bless thou.