“Three minutes!” echoes tawdrily through my head as the referee walks swiftly towards the white painted line and hoists the starting pistol into the sky, as if it were a rocket, yearning to propel into the vast and limitless atmosphere. Thoughts of dubiousness emerge and pose a threat to my confidence, but I respond inadvertently by envisaging myself crossing the finish line in exhausted triumph. Today I must establish an unambiguous mindset in order to run the most determining race of the cross country season: Sectional Finals.
Situated at the start, a few dozen pumped-up teams prepare for the imminent discomfort and pressure of the four thousand meter journey. At the sight of it, our team looks like a single star among the unending awning of populated sky. Although size may not be our most notable feature, our uniforms catch the spectators’ eyes with their vibrant colors and lustrous lettering. The bottom portion is as atramentous as the pupil of one’s eye and is contrasted with the snowy white outline of what appears to be athletic shorts. Tight, onyx compression shorts peek from underneath. Cobalt blue catches the attention of many while observing the labeled tank top. Our team resembles an army, in colorful regimentals and ready for battle.
In order to attain my ultimate capabilities, I must innervate my body and mind for this onerous course. To raise my heartrate, I position myself and dash a solid twenty meters with a pace infeasible to steadily sustain throughout the coming race.