The Track

The bus ride to a track meet is spent envisioning the track you will be performing on. What will the weather be like? Did I pack the right clothes?  You spent 30 minutes braiding your hair so it's perfect for the weather. It's your first meet so you put all of your clothing on, just to be extra prepared. Its ridiculous spending all that time getting ready, making scenarios in your head when you aren't able to predict what your track will be like. Sitting on a bus, listening to music to distract yourself from the world, from the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. You aren't able to stop thinking what your track will look like, until you get there.

One big black oval, separated into 8 lanes, for each runner.

Bleachers surround the track filled with fans. The area is filled with excitement from the fans cheering on their favorite competitors.

Every direction you turn you see another runner. Everyone is running. All the time. From athletes warming up on your left, to parents doing their awkward speed hobble to get their kids more water from the concession stands.

When you enter inside the big oval your perspective changes. You are part of the field. You see all the holes inside the grass infield, to the cracks on the track.

The gun goes off, everyone is running again, but as a competition. One girl runs past the other, causing the runner behind her to enhance her frustrated face. The one behind her falls, taking down the runner behind her.

Throwers are tossing heavy weights into the the air like they are frisbees behind me.

In front of you lies a mile runner on the verge of dying. Behind her is her best friend hunching over a trashcan, cursing at her friend for ever making her go out for track.

On the hill lies my team, full of love and support, only letting laughter come from their mouths. As I examine the hill a little longer I see my grandmother Diane. Its not a track meet without my grandmother trying to give my friends food to make them her friends.

The gun goes off one more time and I step onto the track becoming familiar with its black surface.

As I force myself into the blocks, the track becomes a different picture. This image is similar to a never ending road, but with a distant finish line.

Your view becomes slim, focusing yourself only on the track.

On the bus, your imagination took this image to an extreme. Your picture is nothing similar to your real life track. But, depending on the athlete this imagine is different for everyone. For some it is hell, for others it is passion they would like to take part in everyday. For me it is a escape. One thin road to hard work and success.

Runners to your mark. Get set. Go.

At that exact moment is when this destination no longer has an image.

- LEH