All her training had led her to this moment. The stadium was awash with sound, yet amongst the cacophony she imagined she could hear the voice of her mother above all others. Her mother, who had never missed a meet.
The runners crouched, their feet on the starting blocks, the crowd’s roar settled. The starter’s gun cracked. The race, a blur of muscle, breath, speed and colour. She pushed herself, heart hammering as the finishing line appeared.
It was over. Bent double, hands on knees, she looked at the scoreboard. Second place. She exhaled, tasting defeat, and still felt proud.
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