Past the Finish Line

Adrenaline courses through each vein
Heart pounding, blood racing
Stomach churning
Butterflies flutter, sending a chill up his spine
The glaring rays of the sun blind his sight
Beads of sweat dribbling down his forehead

He looks at the track in front of him
Just one stretch
The other end, palpable
Yet the distance between the two extends endlessly
He rubs his cleats against the track
Tearing out the maroon rubber from under his feet
Crouching, his foot placed on the starting line
His hands, held by his sides, prepared to propel him forward

The deafening shot of the gun reverberates through the still air
The crowd freezes, the cries of coaches come to a halt,
Racers leap forward
Silence
For a split second

He pounces, leaping from his former position
Flying through the lane
Arms pumping by his side
Legs as swift as a cheetah, an uncontrollable blur
Speed unimaginable, explosive
He flees from the racers beside him, from his coaches,
From the dreaded starting line
Rushing away from the current of wind he leaves in his
path

Reaching the much anticipated finish
A number 1 coming in to view
A stored surge of energy exhausted
Sprinting past, leaving the others to trail behind
Past the finish line