"Take your marks!"
I take three quick jumps, shake out my legs, and do some quick trunk rotations. My heart pounds, my palms sweat, and my right hand struggles to keep its tight grip around the baton. My eyes close and I whisper a silent prayer. Slowly, I bend over and stretch myself into the blocks, first the right leg, then the left. My stomach is doing back flips and I find it difficult to breathe steadily. Once my spikes are in the blocks and secure, I rest my knee on the warm, scabrous, rubber track. I brush the dirt and grit off my hands and place them behind the line. I'm up on the tips of my fingers, still clutching the baton as if the slightest movement of the wind would blow it right out of my hand. Ever so slowly, I lower my head and bring my shoulders forward. I stare at the starting line and try to relax. Now, I wait. “Set!"
The starter raises his hand into the air. At the same time, my body slowly lifts from its rested position. My fingers quiver under the weight placed upon them. All of my muscles are tense, despite my last minute efforts to relax them. I am nervous. My body comes to the full set position. My left leg forms a ninety degree angle. It is my strong leg and prepares to blast me forward, exerting all the force that it can. My right leg is my quick leg and I can feel the muscles in it twitching, yearning to plunge forward. Time seems to have stopped and I think to myself, “Perhaps the starter has forgotten about us?” “Bang!"
As soon as the gunshot hits my ears, my left leg pushes with all its might and my right leg flies forward with tremendous speed. My left arm drives up, forcing me forward. I stay low, building up my acceleration. With each step, my spikes dig deeper into the rubber. When I feel as though I can not dig any more, my body slowly becomes perpendicular with the track. I am all by myself. I don't see anyone in front of me or on my side. I have a feeling of dominance and power. It is only an illusion though, as I continue to sprint around the corner in the furthest lane out.
It suddenly happens. I see a figure out of the corner of my eye and flashes of light as the sun reflects off their silver baton. As we approach the straight away, I can see two more of them. We all run together. I slow my sprint a little, hoping that the rest of the runners are doing the same. We continue to pace with one another until we approach the 200 meter mark. I need to run faster so that I can stay with them around the corner. I pick up my knees and make sure my feet keep short contact with the ground. Thoughts of doubt cross my mind. What if I'm making my move too soon? How much energy do the rest of the runners have? Will I have enough sprint and speed left for last 100 meters? Slowly, I begin overtaking each runner. A feeling of strength washes over me, I am a powerhouse.
Then it hits. My legs suddenly become full of lactic acid and my shoulders tighten up. The excruciating and exhausting pain of sprinting an entire lap suddenly becomes a reality and the only thing on my mind. My legs feel heavy and weak. My heart is beating so rapidly that I swear it will explode right out of my chest. As we come out of the final corner, I know that I will need to pick up the pace even more. I try to focus on the runner beside me. The rest of the runners have fallen back and it's just her and me now.
The finish line is all I can see as I come out of the corner and down the straightaway. This is it, time to give every last ounce of energy left. I surge ahead, sprinting with all of my might. The runner beside me will not back down. This makes me nervous at first, but then I become angry. I have pushed myself too hard to give up now and let her win. At this point, I just want to get this over with. I tell myself over and over in my head, "The faster you run, the faster you are done!” I can now hear the crowd cheering, but I do not have enough energy left to make out what they are saying. Yet, their screams motivate me, and I imagine for a second that they are all cheering for me.
With fifty meters to go, I feel like I no longer control my body, as though it is not mine and I am only a bystander, watching myself run down the track. Through the tears welling up in my eyes, I see my teammate, our second leg, dead ahead in my lane. Her feet are pointed ahead and her left arm is reached back towards me. She is screaming at me, cheering me on, but I can not make out her words. She seems so far away, and I do not feel as though I am getting any closer. The runner beside me begins to pull ahead. Somehow, from somewhere, I find some small ounce of energy to catch back up and pass her. Domination! In my head, I am amused by her effort.
When I am about three meters away from my teammate, she takes off. I now run to catch up to her. I slap the baton into her hand and decelerate. Then, I collapse. I stay in my lane for a few seconds and wait for the rest of the runners to make their exchanges. Then I slowly crawl off the track and lie on my back in the grass. My other teammates run over and force me to stand up. They each have a beaming smile on their face and congratulate me. My coach quickly jogs over to me and gives me my split 1:03, my fastest this year!
It only takes me a minute or two to catch my breath and breathe normally again. Now, I cheer my teammates on. Even though I gave the race my best effort, my part is over and it is now up to them, we have not won yet. I watch our second leg get overtaken and put us back two places. I then watch our third leg overtake her competition and put us back up in first. Each member goes through the same feelings of pain and power that I had felt moments ago. Our last leg, the anchor, has the most pressure on her. We all watch with anticipation. My voice is coarse as I scream to her, "Stay relaxed! Don't let that girl pass you! GO! GO!”
Down the straight away she comes and crosses the finish line in first! Our team rejoices. Hugs of joy and tears of pain and defeat are seen everywhere as I walk over and help my teammate off the track. We make our way over to the team tent and are congratulated by parents, friends, coaches, and fellow teammates on our win. I smile and a sigh of relief washes over me. Yes, I am happy that it's over, and I am happy that we won, but most of all I am happy that for that one minute and three seconds I got the feeling of speed, strength, and power. I got the true 4x400 experience.
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