March 5, 2008
The cold northern wind is blowing in your face.
and as the little hairs on your arm are creeping up and your eyes starting to water, you run.
Nothing is better than the long stretch home.
Your legs ache, teeth clenched, and sweat dripping down your back.
And finally, as you cross the finish line, you hear the crowd chanting your name.
As you receive the golden medal for your win, your heart beats faster and faster.
You realize how much you love to run.
Nothing can change your mind about it either
because Track is my sport.

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