I arrive at the stadium, ready for the ride.
Sweatpants on, shoe laces tied,
Hair pulled back in a tight pony tail,
This is not a place for the weak and the frail.

Stretches and warm-ups and calisthenics too,
Toes at home in grass sprinkled with morning dew.
I’m ready for the feel of adrenaline rushing through my veins,
Burning muscles, aching bones, and all the great pains.

The smell of burning rubber in the air,
The feel of wind blowing through my hair.
These feelings are what I crave,
The crowd roaring encouragements, louder than a rave.

I step up to the line, competitors in stow,
Too late to change your mind, no time to say no.
Whether you’re ready or not, It’s time to begin.
The starter pulls the trigger, confidence etched in my grin.

Lap after lap, the seconds fly by,
Tears decorate my cheeks, my throat goes dry.
The secret lies in how you outsmart,
The followers and leaders slowly forced apart.

I cross through the finish, leaning across the line.
Whether I’ve won or lost, the triumph is mine.
It’s not winning or losing that’s the goal of the race,
It’s always doing my best, whether I’m in first or last place.
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