400 metres

fast around the first bend,

the wind rushes past my face,

running on clouds,

i fly.

cruise down the back straight,

i open my stride,

spikes gripping the track, pulling me along,

i glide.

second last bend,

lactic begins to attack,

legs on fire,

i fight.

home straight,

muffled cheering echoes,

my legs feel heavy, like weights holding me down,

i grind.

Across the line.

i lie on the rough track,

look at the big blue sky.

i cry.