the haunting.

With each sharp breath I take, I'm growing only stronger. The farther I tread, the more miles I force on these worn out Asics, the more confident I'm becoming. My strides become quicker and the pain cuts deeper-but quitting still hasn't crossed my mind. I begin to swing my arms hip-pocket, eye-socket swiftly in an almost aerodynamic way. I can feel the vibrations of the crowd shouting my name in the grass below my shoes, in my head, and in my legs-which are numbing slowly.....all the way up my spine.

I can feel the breath of my competition on my neck, so close, causing my stomach to do backflips. I want nothing more than to stay in first place, but the pain is stopping my lungs, slicing into my legs, quickening my pulse.....

It's unbearable.

I'm wincing now, with every sharp breath, grimacing as the sun beats on my back and eyes while the cold and stinging breeze bites at my bare legs.

I watch as one girl from my school passes me, back straight, swift arm motions, perfect form. She is confident she will maintain first place....just as I was only seconds ago. But in running, three seconds is like three hours in the real world.

I groan as two more girls, running together, pass me. They are also from my school, but I can't help but be disappointed as I let first place slip from my very hands.

Then, one more girl passes right as I begin my kick to the finish.

A rush of remorse fills my body, ceiling to floor, head to toe as I remember my coaches words just before our race; "If you aren't feeling sick at the finish line, you didn't work hard enough."

I felt great, which made me feel horrible.

I'd been in FIRST PLACE for over half of the race. I'd LET IT SLIP in the last 6o seconds.

I will never forget.

The haunting.