Before the Gun Fires

Sometimes I remember waiting for the gun to fire.

I trembled, terrified. The difference between me and the other seven runners was simple. I waited in fear while they waited in impatience. I never wanted the race to begin. I never wanted to wait in the cold in my running shorts.

The tension mounted when Mr. Starter said, "Let's have a good, clean race. Runners, on your marks..."

I was not ready. I would lose the race with an embarrassed, tired look upon my face. I did not want to charge down the track like a mindless animal. The crowd was watching. The whole crowd.

The worst part was when Mr. Starter said, "Get set..." Thousands of tiny thoughts surged through my head at that moment. I had one second to think and the only thought that shined through the others was, "There is no turning back".

After the loud crack, the only sound that I could hear was that of my strained breathing as I attempted to keep up with the other runners. The competitors.

When I placed last after crossing the finish line, I was happier than anyone else who had run the race. Not because I had accomplished something, but because it was over.