Kneels down in place, feet on the blocks,
Touch of the grainy red track,
Ready to go heart beating loud and hard,
Like constant, fast beats of a bass drum.

I can do this, I say to myself,
Gun shoots off, BOOM!
Small puff of smoke erupts in the air.

Legs go as fast as they can,
Feet thump in the track on after another,
Intense shocks run from my feet through my legs like a fast thunder bolt with each step.

My breath, heavy and fast with a pattern,
Fresh air runs through my fingers.

Last 100 meters in the race,
Legs going faster than my arms can keep up,
Sound of the crowd roaring with excitement,
50 meters left, 45, 35, 25, 15… 5!

Sight of the stats person’s finger pressing the timer button,
As I run through the line,
First place!

Slain on the ground with excitement,
Tired, looking at my stomach moving up and down,
Pain in my cheeks from smiling so hard at this accomplishment.

Listening for the name,
First place with a time of 56.3 seconds and the record of the year,
In the individual 400 meters,
Whitney R.! Come claim your medal.