Free Soul

Chagrin

"On your marks.." 

We make our way to the curved waterfall start on the crimson track.

"Set.."

Knees are bent, hand is prepared to press the "start" button on the watch, ears are waiting for that gun to go off.

I barely hear the gun shoot the blank as the runners from the inside lanes take off. One, two, three, four, five runners all in lanes one and two, but I remain calm and poised as we hug the first curve of the track. We're nearing the 200 meter mark and I can already feel the race separating and I am caught right in the middle - sandwiched between two groups of racers. The rift is getting bigger. 200 meter mark - I glance at my watch, 45 seconds, exactly on pace. The girls ahead are pulling away. I stay behind. Was that the right choice? There's no time to think about that now, I decide. The sun is unforgiving today and when my ponytail swishes against my neck, I can feel how damp it is. I'm coming down the straightaway now, and a fourth of the race is done. 

"88, 89, 90!" 90, perfect. Still on pace. The pack ahead of me looks as if they are 5 or 6 seconds in front of me. There is nobody around me and I don't dare look back, not even as I'm rounding the curve. I keep my gaze focused on the girls in front of me. They're so close, but they slip out of my grasp. I lose contact. The distance between us lengthens. There is still nobody around me.

I hear shouts. My name, other names. Other names, mostly. They're right behind me, I'm sure of it. I can't see them, but I just know that they're right behind me. I lose track of time. There's nobody around me, and it's hard to tell what's going on when there's no one around you. I pass by the man with the gun 2 more times and he yells out a number each time. A number that doesn't make any sense. A number that should not have left his lips. But I hear them, and they're not numbers I want to hear. I can't be running this slow, can I? That's impossible. I've run faster times a short three days ago in a workout. No, no, no. I urge myself to extend my stride, breathe easier, pump my arms harder. But the speed doesn't come, and I'm not running any faster. It doesn't make any sense. It hurts, in a mental sort of way. I can run faster than this, but I'm not, and I don't understand why. I'm coming along that final 200 meter curve when all of a sudden, a girl passes me. She's got the same singlet on as me. She's from my school. She passes me. I can't keep up with her. I didn't even hear her coming, and I always hear her coming - particularly whenever we're on our 5 mile run and we're pushing the pace. I'm unaccustomed to this strangeness and I can't register the fact that she just passed me. It's quite uncanny how my legs refuse to move faster. Last 100 meters, and another girl passes me. Her legs are long and her figure is slender. Her stride elongates. I fail to keep up. I run past the white line, but I'm not even tired. I hear a number called out, and all I can feel is shame. Shame and embarrassment. There is no way I could have run that. It's not even remotely possible. I take a brief look at my watch. My watch never lies and I am wrong. I close my eyes. I don't understand. A man is writing down my time. "What's her number?"

It's written on my hand, but I can't look up and reply. A lady takes my hand and reads off four digits. 

The rest of my teammates are chatting cheerily and sipping water. I take off, sprinting away from the track. I don't stop until I reach the bathroom. Tears are already dropping, but it is so hot outside that it can easily be mistaken for sweat. I push the door open and run to the middle stall. There's no one inside and the air conditioner is just loud enough to mask my sobbing. This is the first time I've ever cried at school, and I'm sitting on a toilet in a bathroom stall, feeling sweaty and awful. My uniform sticks to my skin. For a while, tears flow freely down my cheeks. I stare at the door. I can't pull myself together. 

Oh God, I think to myself, I can't believe I just ran such a slow time. What happened? What did I do wrong? I was all set to run a good race. I built up my base in the winter and I'd run some pretty solid workouts these past few weeks. Maybe I'm just not cut out for this. Maybe I should give up on track altogether. I tear off a square of toilet paper. The door squeaks open, and someone walks in. She goes into the stall next to me. In between my sniffling, I wet the paper with my tears and sweat and start rubbing against my hand to get rid of the number, which had been written on with Sharpie. But she knows I'm there.

"Are you in track?"

I stop. Is she talking to me? Did she hear me? Does she know I'm crying? I hesitate, for almost a moment too long, but before I can stop myself, I blurt out, "Yes".

"How's the meet?"

"Fine", my voice cracks, but it's unnoticeable, I think. It's a lie. It isn't fine at all.

"What event do you do?"

"Distance" I don't want to talk to her, but it's somewhat comforting, I guess.

She's silent for a while. I wonder if she got bored of talking to me. Then, "so if you had some advice for someone who was running the 100 meter or the 200 meter, what would you say? I totally know that's not your thing, but do you have any advice?"

She's in track? She hadn't mentioned that. I frown, from where I'm sitting I can see her feet, but she's not wearing any shoes. I'd guessed that she was prepping for the spring musical, and had no idea that she was also on the team.. Unless she was from the opposing school.

"Umm.. I don't know. Just go for it, I suppose, it's only the first meet. If you don't exceed your expectations, well you're only bound to improve from there."

"Ooh, thanks!", I hear the toilet flush and the stall swing open. "Well... I guess I'll see ya around."

"Yeah", I reply, "see you", even though I have no idea what she looks like and have no intention of doing so.

You're only bound to improve from here, I muse.

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Woo hope you guys like this one!! Decided to write it from a different POV, you know, show the not so glorious aspect of racing. If you guys have any ideas/requests, feel free to message me!