Inspirations

                I have my eye on the prize. I lowered my head, and prepared my stance, awaiting the sound of the gun. A few short seconds rolled by, feeling like hours. A gun shot echoed throughout the stadium. My feet flew out in front of me, pounding the ground so fast I swung my arms to keep my balance. One million thoughts bounced around inside my head. One surfaced. “Slow down!” I screamed inside my head. I had one mile to race. I was getting ahead of myself.

         The area surrounding the track was filled with people. Their faces and voices blurred together until they became one lone entity.  One hundred meters passed, and I noticed one face distinguished from the rest. Danielle smiled at me in encouragement.

         My mind flashed back to practice. Danielle led me outside the school, as we embarked on our daily practice run. The snow fell heavily, my feet slipping in the ice and slush. My multiple clothing layers bunched up, and did little to fend off the New England winter elements. We pushed on. Cars honked at us, and passersby shook their heads in disbelief. Only crazy people run outdoors in weather like this. We ran in silence, exchanging our thoughts through our occasional glances. My hands turned dark red, the stinging of the cold growing fierce. Snow tickled my nose, and clung to my eyelashes. My ponytail was soaked through, and partially frozen.

         She turned to me, a smile stretched wide across her face, “Isn’t running the best?” she asked sincerely. We shared a name, a sport, and a determination. She was my inspiration.

         “Go Danielle! You got this! Go!” A familiar voice brought me back to the race. “Come on, Squirt! You’re right on pace! Dig deep!” I rolled my eyes at my father’s advice. I thought about him. He is my rock, my coach, my reason for the race. I was in this for him. I thought back to the previous week.

         I signed in relief as I successfully entered the chair lift seat and sat down next to my father. I had mastered skiing with no problem. The chair lift was my biggest weakness.

         My dad laughed at my obvious nerves. “Are you nervous?” he asked me, concern in his eye.

         “What happens, happens. I can only do my best.” I tried to sound confident with my answer. It was the truth. I never lied to my father.

         “I hope you know, that no matter what, I’m really proud of you, Squirt.” He gave me a quick one-armed hug just before we exited the chair lift.

         I finished the fourth lap of the race. My muscles were feeling the fast pace. The pain increased in my chest. The dry air burned the inside of my throat. I sped up. Nothing was going to stop me. I thought nothing of the seconds blinking on the oversized timer at the finish. As I moved past my team, a roar of encouraging cheers and claps erupted.

         Three laps left. My eyes scanned the crowd. A thin girl rushed inside the main door. She was holding onto her scarf and hat, out of breath from rushing inside the building. She caught my eye and waved frantically. I watched her blow me a kiss out of the corner of my eyes, just before redirecting my attention to the turn ahead. She had made it to see the race. 

         I stood in the pretty clearing in the wooded area between our two houses, waiting for her to arrive. I poked my foot in the snow, drawing with it to pass the time. She poked her head out from behind a tree, and ran up to me. Mara wrapped her arms around me, enveloping me in a tight hug. She slightly pulled away to look into my eyes, but kept her arms wrapped around my neck. “I know you’re going to knock ‘em dead, Friday night. You always do.” She brushed a stray hair from my eyes, and brought her lips closer to mine. “This is for good luck. The other girls won’t know what hit them.” I tasted her breath in my mouth as she spoke. She kissed me so gently, and let go. “I love you.” I watched her smile awkwardly at me, as she backed into the woods, and disappeared from view.

         A bell rung in the background. I had just over one lap left. I broke out into a complete sprint. The faces of my inspirations rushed through my head with each step. I pushed harder. My lungs burned. Small beads of sweat poured off my face. My speed reached a maximum, as I flew over the finish line. I felt loved.