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He paced the corridor, up and down, looking no different from anyone in the cheering crowd. The gun had just gone and every single person in the seats stood up to cheer. A mass of swirling bodies, colours and sounds, distorted by the waves of the intense heat. He caught a glimpse of the first person crossing the line, and then he walked off, deeper into the shade, away from the people.
He leaned against the wall, collecting his thoughts. That two-digit figure on the stopwatch, was etched into his retinas a few days ago and since then it had never faded away. He shut his eyelids, only to visualize that two digits like before. He sighed and sat down. It was coming closer. It would decide his fate in a couple of moments.
Then, it came. The announcement blared out from everywhere, ringing in his ears. Determined, he stood up and walked slowly, strength churning in his calves. He reported and he proceeded to change his shoes. Then as he thought about it all, the time, the two digits, the faith he had put into himself, it started to fade. The walls around him, they started darkening and fading. He got moodier. Then he bent low, whispered words, and got up, ready to give his all.
A few minutes passed, and then before he knew it, he was standing on lane 3, poised for victory, and yet showed a distinct nervousness, a nervousness that would drive anyone to misery if unhandled. Command was given. He crouched low, ready to push out all the way for what was worth. The second command came. He raised his back leg, mind now blinded by the cheers, the heat, his confidence, and his fear.
BANG. And then he sped off, future unknown ahead of him.
Haha don't mind my ranting. I was picturing the day of my first race. Nationals 400m. Oh no. Wish me luck people. Ciao.
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