Sandstorm

"Focus, stay focused," I repeat to myself. The cold October air constantly reminding myself of where I am. "Focus." My nerves start to go on edge. "Focus". I step into the long line, as we face the deserted field. "Focus." Silence falls all around me. I can hear the coughs of the spectators as they surround us. "Focus." A large man steps out in front of the line. "Focus", he raises his arm which reveals a gun. "Focus," he shouts over the nervous pants all around me, "Get set, Go!" BANG! Run.

It was a sprint to the front of the pack. I hear the sound of hundreds kids as they take off from the starting line, full speed like a wild stampede. There is no way to stop us. we begin to approach the edge of the woods where there is a little opening for a trail. Once inside, there is barely enough room to move past people. I try to advance only to get blocked off and bump into some other racer, but I manage to punch through the wall of runners. I sprint past my competitors and brush them as I pass, only to feel their cool sweat upon my burning skin. I run on, deeper and deeper into the woods with the stampede right on the back of my heels.

Running 3.1 miles is a long time to be alone. Sticking with a teammate is always a smart idea. Helping each other to push our limits and to dig deep to find that strength, that strength that leaves myself feeling like I have no regrets after the race. As I continue with my teammate, I start to feel weak, as if all the energy that I started with, was zapped with every passing opponent. "Keep up", I say to myself, stay with my teammate, stay with the one person that can unlock my hidden strength. I carry on closely behind as I am being pulled forward by my teammate. Then it appears.

Cramps. A runner's worst enemy. They are a big factor on how I run the race whether you like it or not. The aching pain surges through my legs, as my muscles scream for oxygen. "Keep up." I fight through the pain, focusing on my important aspects of running such as pace, tempo, breathing. All are worth attention rather than some minor inconvenience.

The course seems to go on forever, with no means to an end, just endless rows upon rows of trees. Then I see it, a true light at the end of the tunnel, the way out of the trail. The only part of this race that I have been looking forward to. As I break through the light, I can't help to squint and listen to all the spectators cheering for their sons. Somewhere in that sea of cheering, someone is yelling my name. This thought drives me forward. As I push myself to move faster, I'm being passed by many other racers that were once trailing me, but it doesn't bother me. I'm racing myself and only myself. I push harder, fighting through the pain and exhaustion. The sight of the finish line seems to rejuvenate me, just enough energy to keep pumping.

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