Running,
Preparing,
pulling,
pushing
through the aching pain,
feeling my chest crescendo
until it is no longer capable.
It shrinks
over and over again.
Hearing the loud roar of the crowd
Pushes me to keep going
I will be victorious.

A stream of sweet,
salty
sweat
trickles down my cheek
into my dry,
dark
soggy mouth.
Panting as if I was a dog,
I need to breathe.
Gasping for air,
a gust of cold wind
flies in my mouth.
… Refreshing
I will be victorious.

My stomach screams for food,
But I will not stop until I am the champion.
As the finish comes in sight,
I sprint at full speed,
using every last bit of energy I have stored.
Victorious I am
and the world shall be known.