3 ........ 2 ......... 1............ GO!
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Coach cheered on as the giant mass of people ran as if they were escaping prison. The compact group slowly spread apart, with myself edging toward the back. 50 people were racing today and I was determined to get under tenth place. I always started out my race slower than everyone and progressively caught people throughout the 3.1-mile race. Instead I started at a very fast float across the field, I kept the pace for a good thirty seconds until I realized I was too close to first place, only five people were ahead of me, the fear of loosing my breath too early forced me to slow down immediately, It seemed like a good minute had passed and my firm pace was set. It was much quicker than my last race but I felt that after a hard two weeks of training, I could pull this off. The worst part of the race is usually the second mile, it seems like you’ve been running forever and barely half the race is over. I continued to run and I had already lost sight of the person in first place, I was around sixth or seventh now. It felt like only two minutes had passed when the first mile mark arrived, Coach shouted out my time. I was very excited to hear what it was. When I heard five six minutes my heart dropped. I was really kicking it. Then came the worst part, the long dreadful second mile. Here I focused on catching as many people as I could. I quickened my pace and passed three people by the time the third mile came around. I was in fourth place. This could be the greatest race id ever ran. Coach shouted my second mile time, twelve minutes and thirty seconds. I had expected to slow down a little bit along with everyone else. Now I could see the person in first and my eye was set directly on him, His pace was the same as mine but he was just 200 feet ahead. When I reached the long path that lasted for a half mile, I closed my eyes and used all the energy I had into my legs. After about a minute I opened my eyes again and found that I was almost sprinting. This was bad, really bad, I had passed every one but the one guy in front of me, I just needed to push a little harder. Still, accidently sprinting on the third mile destroyed my oxygen intake and my legs were fried. Now I decided to rely on my reserve battery, pure will. I needed to win this race to get better; I started off hoping for under tenth place but now I would take nothing higher than 1st. The last turn came in and I was neck and neck with the blond haired frail white kid. Somehow he was just as good as me. Once he saw that his place was being compromised, he increased his speed and form greatly. I followed but gave it my all when a quarter mile was still left. We had just turned in to the track and I was breathing too heavy for a full on sprint. I couldn’t take loosing to him so I pushed on. We were no longer in the same pace anymore; he was running faster, it pissed me off so much. I saw people cheering me on as the first person from my team to reach the track, I didn’t care, and I wanted to win more than anything. He was only one pace ahead and this endless race had less than a hundred meters to it. Now it was just a straightaway sprint. I hauled ass, my legs became their own being pushing forward. Slowly but steadily I passed him and as the finish line came, I was in front, my focused face turned to a happy smile as I crossed the line before any one else. And when I stopped to feel the warm air enter my lungs and fill me with pride.... I immediately threw up