Velocity 100

Chapter 9 - The Final Countdown

The months between Barbados and Paris passed in a blur of anticipation. It seemed as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for the 2024 Summer Olympics to begin. The weight of the journey was heavy on Cynthia, but with each passing day, she felt more and more ready.

After a year of building, refining, and overcoming doubts, she knew her time was coming. Every sprint on the track, every drop of sweat, every muscle ache, had led to this moment—the final countdown to the race of her life.

The Olympic Trials were held at the Usain Bolt Sport Complex at the University of the West Indies Cave Hill Campus, and the atmosphere was electric. The air was thick with tension and excitement as the region's best athletes gathered in the stadium. For Cynthia, it was more than just a qualification meet. It was a chance to prove that she could stand among the giants of the sport—the Jamaican sprinters who had long dominated the 100m and 200m events.

As she walked into the warm-up area, the reality of the occasion hit her. The stands were filled with spectators, a chorus of voices urging the athletes on. The Jamaican sprinters were all there—Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce, Elaine Thompson-Herah, Shericka Jackson, and a host of other world-class athletes. They were legends, their names etched in history, their reputations towering over the sport.

But Cynthia, despite the nerves swirling in her chest, refused to be intimidated. She belonged here. She had earned the right to race alongside these women. She had proven herself on the world stage already, and now it was time to show everyone—including herself—that she could compete at the highest level.

"Remember, Cyn," Mr. Ashton's voice echoed in her mind. "This is your race. Don't let the names around you change that. It's just you, the track, and the finish line."

She nodded, a quiet confidence settling over her. She had trained for this moment. She had put in the hours, the work, the sacrifices. The pressure was real, yes, but it was also a reminder of how far she had come.

The race was the next day.

Cynthia's mind raced as she prepared for the event. She spent the night before in her hotel room, visualizing the race. She imagined the starting blocks, the sound of the pistol, the explosive start, and the surge of power as she hit the curve. The final 30 meters—her strong point—would be her moment. She was ready.

But as she woke the next morning and got dressed in her racing kit, she couldn't shake the nervous energy buzzing through her veins. Today was everything. She had one shot to qualify for the Olympics. One shot to prove that all the sacrifices, all the early mornings and late nights, had been worth it.

Her mother had flown in to support her, along with a few close friends. As she left the hotel and made her way to the track, Cynthia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The eyes of her country, her family, and the entire Caribbean were on her. But this was no longer about just getting to the Olympics—it was about standing on that starting line as a competitor, not a spectator.

The warm-up was intense, each movement deliberate and calculated. She stretched her legs, did drills to get her body loose, and ran a few strides to feel the track beneath her feet. But it wasn't just physical preparation she needed—it was mental fortitude. She had to block out the noise. She had to focus.

The 100m finals arrived.

Cynthia's heart pounded in her chest as she stepped onto the track. The crowd roared, and the noise was deafening, but all she could hear was the beat of her own heart. She took her place in lane 4, the lane she had trained in countless times. She crouched down into the blocks, feeling the cool rubber beneath her fingers, taking one deep breath.

The starter's pistol went off, and everything seemed to slow down for a moment.

Cynthia's reaction was perfect. She exploded out of the blocks, her legs pushing with power and speed, her body forming the familiar, flawless technique she had spent months perfecting. The first 30 meters were a blur, a blur of power and acceleration. The Jamaican sprinters were beside her, but Cynthia refused to look over. She focused on the finish line ahead, pushing herself harder with every step.

She came out of the curve, her legs burning but pushing through. The final 30 meters, the place where she had always excelled, were here. The crowd's roar grew louder as the finish line approached, but Cynthia was locked in, her eyes on the prize.

She was going to qualify. She was going to do it.

Her feet hit the track in a blur, and the final few meters were a rush of pure adrenaline. She reached the finish line with a burst of speed, crossing it in 10.80 seconds, a new personal best.

She stumbled slightly after crossing the line, her body exhausted from the effort. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, and she looked up at the scoreboard. The time blinked back at her.

She had done it.

For a brief moment, the stadium was silent, and then the roar of the crowd erupted around her. She had finished in third place. She had qualified for the Olympics.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she stood there on the track, panting and catching her breath. She had made it. The dream was no longer just a distant thought—it was now a reality.

Back in the locker room, Cynthia's team surrounded her. Her coach, Mr. Ashton, was beaming with pride, his hand resting on her shoulder.

"You did it, Cyn," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You've earned your place. You're going to Paris."

Cynthia smiled through her tears. She had made it. She had taken her place among the world's best. She had earned her spot in the 2024 Olympic Games.

Her phone buzzed with messages of congratulations. Her mother's voice came through the speaker, full of emotion.

"You did it, baby! I'm so proud of you! You're going to the Olympics!"

The sound of her mother's voice was a balm for Cynthia's soul. In that moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. She hadn't just raced for herself. She had raced for every person who had supported her—her mother, her family, her coaches, her country. Every sacrifice, every early morning, every mile run had led her here. To Paris. To the Olympics.

The journey wasn't over. In fact, the hardest part was yet to come. But Cynthia was ready. She had proven that she had what it took to stand among the best. And now, with the Olympic Games in sight, she knew she was about to face the most important race of her life.