Ten Eight

Well, you see... I never was very good at all of this. I mean, this whole running thing? Never my thing. So I stood at the starting line. This was ridiculous. I had told myself over and over that I would never be able to do this. But never the less, the race started. Well, of course it was going to start. It's not like the entire world was just chilling here, waiting for me to finish arguing with my mind. So, I was happy that the race started. Thank god the race started. Yay, the race started. I sprinted out of the starting line, headed towards the finish line about five hundred yards away from me. I didn't mind too much, I did like running, I just wasn't very good at it. It's hard to run, you know? I know... trust me. It's really hard to run. So I sprinted instead. I was always good with sprinting. It was easy, sprint. You can do it. Sprint. Sprint. Sprint. So I sprinted. My heart raced with the adrenaline and the speed that was sprinting through my veins as I sprinted towards the finish line. Four hundred yards to go. I could do this. It wasn't to hard. Go, go, go. I ran faster, forcing my heart into a near stopping state. I could do this. Do it. Go. Go. Go. I ran even faster. Pushing myself. Push, push, push. Run, run, run. The speed ran faster through my veins, pumping through my heart to go to all of my body; my arms, legs, head, brain, feet, toes, hair rushing with the speed in my veins. It felt good, powerful. Healthy to be running towards something so close, but so far away. Natural to be running as fast as I have ever run. Three hundred yards to go. I could do it. I can do it. I am doing it. I kept talking to myself. Right, left, right, left. You can do it. You are doing it. My hair hit my face loosely out of my ponytail, bouncing back and forth. The touch was ticklish, tough to ignore as I was running. I could taste my sweat coating my upper lip. My jaws, clenched, tense as I moved my feet. Right, left, right left. Go, go go. I can do this, I am doing this. I will finish this race first. Next to me, a tall girl with unnaturally long strides passed me. My grace period was over. There was two hundred yards to go. I was starting to lose steam. Instead of slowing down. I sped up, headed toward my goal like a crazy person, running, sprinting, run, run, run. The feeling was absolutly ridiculous. The feeling of wanting to go, wanting to win. I couldn't believe how competitive this was. Was it only two hours before that I was sitting in AP Psychology? Taking a test about classical conditioning verses operant conditioning? I mean, the test was easy. It's quite obvious that classical conditioning takes two completely unlinked things and relates them, while operant conditioning uses a reward and punishment system to stop or increase the use of a behavior. I personally agree with both. You have to admit, it would be a lot of fun to try and classically condition an infant. Not like it hadn't been done before. I had only one hundred yards to go. Go, go, go. I can do this. Run, run, run. The crowd was beginning to cheer now. Their happiness ran over me like a wave, engulfing me in it's warmth, and forcing me to run faster, to keep going, and to keep running. Keep running, you can do this. You can win. I happily awaited the time where I could be sitting on a bench and thinking about my performence, thinking about how I was running so fast, all the while thinking about stupid things like AP Psychology. I could feel the sweat running down my face, pouring in droplets down my neck, down my spine. It felt oddly refreshing to know that I was sweating. I didn't even know what I would do once I won. I was going to win. I knew it, win, win, win. Run, run, run. I looked next to me again. The tall girl was advancing. We were approaching the finish line. We were so close, but so far away. This race would be over soon, but that didn't stop me from thinking about what would be happening when it was done. The thought of cool water running down my throat kept me going. The sooner I finish, the sooner I get water. I thought to myself. I knew it would be in my mouth soon. That cool, crisp water in the plastic bottle. I kept that thing with me always. I wondered what would happen if I was ever to forget it. Would I be able to function without the option of watter readily at my side? I had no idea what the answer was. The final fifty yards was upon us. I couldn't help but hear the sudden surge in clapping from the crowd, the scream from my coach to go faster to me and the other girl. What was her name? Natasha? Something like that. Somehow it didn't matter what was going on. I knew I was going to win. The tall girl was way behind me now. I couldn't help but feel bad for her. She was going to lose. Was I going to lose? Of course not. I was too fast, too good at running to lose. I could beat anyone. Okay, maybe not anyone... But I could definitely beat this group of people. This was ridiculous. No degrading yourself. Just go, just run. I could see the finish line approaching me quickly now. It was almost time for me to pass through the tape. But as I watched it come closer, the red stream fell to the floor moments before I had passed it. I had lost, I was second. The tall girl had sped up in the final five yards, while I had been thinking. It was over. I had lost.