So much wind.
So much wind.
My sensitive eyes catch a gust
and a tear trickles down my cheek.
I shake and shiver,
wishing for more material
to shield me from these chilly blasts.
I look to the left.
I look to the right.
They appear fearless,
focused,
confident,
ready.
Am I ready?
They put their heads down,
their feet in the blocks,
their hands on the line.
I simply stand still,
mute and motionless.
BANG!
They leave
then I start
and go
as fast
as I can –
as fast
as my legs
and this wind
will allow.
And they start coming back
or I start catching up
to them.
Not all,
but some –
most.
And it’s over.
I’m not first.
I’m not last,
but I am intrigued
and excited
and fatigued
and sore
and gasping for breath
and ready to do it again.
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