Toe to the line. Head down. Arms bent. Breathe. In… out.

Bang. 

Feet pounding. Heart racing. Bodies pressed together. 

The adrenaline kicks in. You are soaring. Your legs don’t feel a thing. 

100 meters, and the pain starts to set in. Your breathing becomes labored. Your legs feel strained and heavy. You are boxed in on all sides by runners who look seemingly unaffected. 

Your mind begins to race. I can’t do this. I’m tired. I want to quit. Everything hurts. 

Suddenly a teammate appears at your side, and your mindset changes. We’ve got this. 

Together you push past the runner ahead. Then two. Three. Six. 

As the race continues, the bodies spread out. Soon, the person ahead of you is a good ten feet away. 

Mile one. 

As you pass the mile marker, coaches call out the time. 6:30. 31. 32.

Athletes cheer on their teammates from off the course. Keep pushing. Eyes up. Settle into your pace. 

You take in the noise like it’s all directed towards you. Use it to push yourself over the upcoming hill. You know that you can’t give in to the pain. You pass two runners up the hill who have. As you reach the peak, you look down over the course and the runners ahead. You open up your stride, pass another runner. 

You know that the second mile is the hardest. And you know that if you want a new personal record, you need to push through the mental pain. 

Your teammate starts to trail behind. You barely make out whispers of encouragement. Stay with me. We can do this. Let’s catch the next runner. 

Mile two. 

You start to think about the finish, about crossing the line with a new personal record. This mentality pushes you past a pair of runners. 

As you get closer to the end, parents begin calling out the distance left. 

1000 meters.  

Your legs begin to tighten up. Your breaths come out as gasps. You feel a cramp forming in your side. 

800 meters. 

Half a mile left. Your teammate is long gone, lost in a sea of pained but determined expressions. You start to pick up your speed. 

400 meters. 

You see your coach. As you pass, he whispers the last of his advice for this race. Start kicking now. Give it all you’ve got. Pass that runner. 

You round the last curve of the course and see the finish line, the parents and teammates and coaches along the sidelines, the clock counting down the minutes. 

With less than 100 meters left, you extend your stride and fly down the straightaway, throat dry, legs burning. You push yourself harder, seemingly running faster than you ever have before. 

The sound is deafening. Faces fly by, some that you know, most that you don’t. All you can focus on is the end. But the noise, the inaudible cheering, pushes you forward, forward, forward…

You cross the finish line and collapse. Exhausted, out of breath, every muscle in your body sore. And you’ve never felt so alive.