The Guardian

All the years of sprinting until I collapse on the track; exhausted. The hours spent pounding my fists against lead punching bags. The bruises formed on my body from the hand to hand combat. The bandages wrapped around my hands for scrapes because I fell to the ground; my spirit broken. All of it was for one day, twenty-four hours. What would happen if I lost? If I came last? I can't even bear to think of it. I guess I'll have to win...