Breathe in, breathe out, focus. I close my eyes and imagine my mind as clear as an undisturbed lake. I can’t risk letting those I love down, letting myself down. I re-grip my hands on the handlebars of my bike and check the positioning of my feet. Everything is perfect… except for, I glance up into the crowd, searching and seeking for a face that I already instinctively know that is not there. No, I can’t get distracted. Not now, not ever. The whistle blows and everything starts to move in slow motion. The butterflies in my stomach evaporate; I close my eyes once more, drinking in this glorious moment. This is what I have trained for, this is what I have lived for, this is my destiny.
The starter calls ‘go’ and my heart appears to stop beating. I slowly start pedalling, conserving my energy. My heart seems to start beating again as I get into the familiar rhythm on the track. I feel a slight nudge on the back of my wheel, so small that I think I could have imagined it, then I started to fall. My bike slips, out of control and I bump into other riders, taking them along with me as I skid down the steep track. I hear cries all around me, cries of pain. Physical pain and mental pain, as Olympic dreams of gold are washed away. I hear a sharp crack that seems to linger in the air and now it is my turn to cry out in pain and anguish. Intense pain enveloped my ankle. My ankle feels like something had lit it ablaze. I touch a hand to my forehead and I feel a thick and sticky substance. I pull it away and see my hand streaked with blood. My blood. I reach the bottom of the velodrome and the terrifying sliding stops. I try to stay awake as I feel the world slipping from the tips of my fingers. Soon I could feel no more.
I awake to the smell of the sterile room and I choked on the alien smell. I try to sit up, but a gentle hand stops me in my tracks. I struggle against the hand, but my attempts are futile. I feel a liquid being poured into my mouth and I swallow, grimacing at the repulsive taste. Shadows start to crowd my vision, but I try to resist. My world goes black once more.
A bright light shined in my face and I squinted, burrowing deeper into the warm blankets. ‘I don’t want to get up yet mum’ I murmur, still half asleep. The blankets are taken off my and I shiver in their absence. I open my eyes fully and I see a foreign face. She smiles at me kindly and her face seems to light up. Her blonde hair sits in an immaculate ponytail and self-consciously I touch my own hair. As soon as I touch my hair, I pull my hand away in disgust. My hair feels revolting. ‘My name is Jane’ the lady says. ‘I’m Annabelle’ I tell her. Jane marks something down on a clipboard and I crane my neck trying to see what is on the sheet. Just as I am nearly able to make out the neat she turns away abruptly. ‘How long have I been asleep?’ The question seems to erupt out of me and Jane turns back, startled at my sudden outburst. ‘Well it was quite a bad fall and’ I cut her off. ‘Just tell me how long I have been asleep’ I ask quietly. ‘3 days’ she says softly.
The hospital released me today with strict instructions. No cycling for 3 months. I almost died when they said that. 3 months seemed like eternity to me but a little part of me was glad, glad that I didn’t have to get on the track for a while, because to be honest I was scared stiff. Scared of falling, scared of hurting myself. My mum picked me up in her car and greeted me with a warm smile. Did dad visit? The smile disappeared from her face. ‘No darling’ she replies softly and strokes my hair. I turned my face away, not wanting her to see the disappointment on my face. I can’t believe he didn’t come. Not to the race, not to the hospital either. I quickly wipe the tears from my eyes before they journey down my face and upset mum. ‘Are you ready to go now?’ Mum asks gently. ‘Yes, let’s go home mum’. The words tasted good on my lips and I soak up the word home. Not training, not school, but home. Even though I wasn’t able to cycle I was determined to make this the best summer ever.
