Jan 1, 2011 Witfit

Hopeful http: / /www . youtube . com / watch?v=AdczFd2GaXY

~*Witfit*~

She stares at the red clay before her, white lines painted to keep her on the right path. Her eyes focus in; everything zones out. The hush of the crowd falls silent, and the only thing she sees is the track before her and the hurdles that lie in wait.

The announcer calls out her mark; she squats, ready, the anticipation building.

A second that seems like an eternity passes before the shot is fired, and her body springs forward.

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

Jump.

Her body clenches; every muscle tightens as she feels herself fly over the hurdle, landing with a spring in her step.

Over and over again she takes each in stride.

Her heart is pounding, and her muscles burn with exertion. She looks over her shoulder; no one is there.

Anticipation, adrenaline, and exhilaration push her further, faster, as she realizes she is leading the pack.

She's going to win. She sees the tape. She sees the line.

She leans forward, her arms extend, and with one last pounding footstep, she feels the gauze give as she breaks through.

Flashbulbs blink. The crowd roars. And she feels nothing but euphoria and relief.

She did it. Every hour of training, every sore muscle, every hope and dream has led her to this point.

The finish.

Or maybe the beginning?