Titled "The Race"

~ This is a piece I wrote for a class once and I think it has potential so I'm considering entering it in a writing contest. Before I do I'd like some constructive critism on it or just comments in general. ~

"The Race"

"One, two, three... Go!" In an instant I feel my muscles tighten as they always do, my feet tingling from the excitement and every part of me fully devoted to winning, kind of. In the back of my mind theres a piece me that knows I can't win, I won't win so why bother trying.

"Faster!" I hear David Douglas, a fellow teammate call from the sidelines. That one word says so much. The pressure that it puts on my shoulders, the encouragement that zooms to my brain, the shame that goes to my ego and the guilt that goes to my subconscious. That's what Davey said that day and thats what Davey says everyday.

Then I see it, the first hurtle, and suddenly Davey and his words don't matter. Every piece of my

body is consumed with the hurtle and the strategy for greatness. There are many ways to approach jumping a hurtle. You could do the crowd pleaser. Which is basically 20% jumping skill and 80% showing off. At full force you make a quick jump and while your in the air do some form of a pose. This is also done when people know that they won't win but they still want to gain respect. Coaches all around America would opt to make this jump illegal if they could, but the crowd likes it and if the crowd doesn't show up theres not enough money to let the show go on. Next theres the, I'm an awesome jumper I don't need applause I know I'm the best jump. This is where you run as fast as you can jump the hurtle and keep running. The trick is not to leave any hint of a pause or people might think you want applause. Then you have the basic jump, which is reserved for people who don't give a crap if people cheer or not they just want to race. Last but not least theres the slacker jump. This really isn't a jump at all, its more like run around the hurtle and possibly say something obscene. People do this when they want to make it seem like they don't care about the race and their only in the race because they have to or something. Also if you are up against a really good racer and you know that you'll lose, then they often want to make it look like they don't care to keep their reputations.

From day to day my jump changes depending upon my mood, but today I'm doing a crowd pleaser. I would never do the slacker jump because I could never pull it off. Not that I'm incapable of being a slacker, but mostly because my mother is in the stands. Say something obscene in front of her and its off to my room. Another reason, and the most important, for my choice in jumps is Madison Jayone. She's sitting in the stands no more than 20 feet from the hurtle and if I do a pose I'll look both classy and good. Just the way she smells is enough to make any guy lose his mind. Madison is gorgeous and she just got dumped by another guy so she's defiantly available. However, the chances of her liking me are minimal. I've known Madison since kindergarten and even way back then, before I liked girls, I was in love with her. On her end, I doubt she knows I exist. This may come as a shock, but Madison is popular and I'm... Well let's just say I'm not. Don't turn your backs on me just yet I'm not much of a humiliating, waste of time. I did speak to her once, but it didn't work out.

“Hi Madison, I like your dress.” My words came out mumbled and rushed.

“Oh... Uh... Cameron I didn't see you there. Thanks.” She said perfectly in every way, shape and form.

“Actually my names is... um... your really pretty you know that.” I know what your thinking, I'm and idiot, but just watch.

“Yeah I know, well I have to go.” With that she turned and left me starring in hopeless love.

“Bye.” I called in a pathetic attempt to correct my mistakes.

Needless to say my history with Madison isn't exactly a movie worthy scene. Today however I'm determined to make her like me, I know I can, I just have to win.

No more non scene, its time to jump. I sprint towards the hurtle, squat down a little and just in

time I leap through the air and it feels incredible. I clench my arms upward so they show off my muscles and then I land and continue on. Enough foolishness, now its race time. Checking my runners I figure out that I'm in fourth. Not bad, I knew I wouldn't be first, because Jason Smith is in first. He's been voted number one in the district for five years in a row and nobody can take the title from him. Its still a mystery weather he's really a good runner or if its his personality off the track that keeps us from his medal. I have only had one encounter with Jason myself and it wasn't pleasant. I was in sixth grade and had just started track, I was always a fast kid, but never trained. We all began a practice race and I was doing good, for a sixth grader, and soon I was in second. That's when I got cocky, I didn't know who Jason was and merely thought he was another race, so I went for it. I tried to beat Jason Smith. I actually almost had him and then he came from behind and knocked me into the grass. That was the first and last time I encountered Jason and I intend to keep it that way.

I look up and while I was day dreaming I moved up a place, I'm now third. That's what I love about racing, you can do it subconsciously. You can day dream and just let your legs guide you around the track. This is how I know that even when I'm older and can't compete I'll still love to run. I look around and for the first time see my Mom in the bleachers. She's wearing a cheap t-shirt and old lady jeans. To top off this outfit misdemeanor she has a sun hat, or whatever its called. This is possibly the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me. Besides the time she dropped me off in the carpool lane and shouted to the whole school, “I love you sweetie. Have a super-doper day!” I can suddenly feel my cheeks burning from the thought. It might sound like I do, but I don't despise my Mom. She's just like every other mom on the face of the Earth, she refuses to let me grow up. Its my Father that I despise, he's a pathetic drug dealer who split within seconds after getting my Mom pregnant. People always ask if its hard for me to survive without my father, but its not. I'm glad he's doesn't live with us, he would only make everyone miserable, who knows where we'd be if he was with us.

Around a corner, over a hurdle, it all becomes a blur, a big serene blur. Suddenly I'm a champion, I've won a million races, I have fans all over the world and Madison by my side. Thats when it hits me, I can't just run subconsciously I have to run, really run. In a fantasy world this would be the part where I turn into a superhero or rise above some powerful force of nature. All of my track training comes back to me, “analyze the race, figure out what you have to do and how your going to do it.” I check my runners to find that I'm still in third. Jason is in first, followed by Stevie Daniels, a freshman somewhat new to the sport but surprisingly fast. Behind me theres Matt Carter closing in fast and from what I know about Matt he knows exactly how to pass people when their least expecting it. About three months ago I was running against Matt for the first time, out of nowhere he swerved in front of me and took the lead. I spent the rest of the race moping instead of battling him for first. Now I know better, at all times I have to be aware of his position and if he does pass me I'll pass him back immediately. Another track tip occurs to me, “How much time do you have?” I'm on the final of five laps and I'm just passing the halfway mark, if I hurry I might be able to do this.

The last tip that comes to mind is, “Run,” and so I do. I sprint ahead, I hear the cheap high school announcer making numerous comments on my sudden energy boost, but I don't care. All I care about is passing Stevie and then passing Jason, I will be champion. I close in on Stevie, I know him personally and he's a really nice kid, but I'm a year older than him, he can win some other race. I'm about to make my move and then he checks his runners and blocks my path. “Nice move,” I think to myself, but then I shoot around the opposite side of him without warning. Not bad for a freshman Stevie, but to try to beat a sophomore thats just wrong, keep practicing. Second place thats where I'm at and that is where I'll stay, for now. I still have a little over a quarter of the track to cover, and Jason is just barely ahead of me, I can make a move at anytime. Then I remember another helpful tip, “Towards the end of the race if you need to pass someone do it at the last minute so they can't pass you back.” Well all the other tips have worked why shouldn't this one. I slow my running down to a steady pace, just enough to stay where I am until I'm ready to pass, then I wait.

The next few moments go by faster than ever and before I know it, its time. I make my move, by going to the right and around Jason and it works. I glance at Jason to see if he's surprised and he is. This is when I realize that I'm experiencing the best moment of my life. I turn back toward the front so I can finish the race in style. I see the finish line its right there and I'm going to win, I'm going to get a trophy and I'm going to get the attention of Madison Jayone. This is my moment, its finally time for me to put my head up high and bask in the glory. I stand proud and run stronger than ever and then my foot strikes a rock and I realize I'm heading for the ground. I crash hard and painfully and before I could blink the crowd of other runners swoop past, I go from first to last in under thirty seconds. My dreams, my goals, maybe there not meant to be, maybe they are, all I know is on this very day nothing is going to change.