CRACK

The blue track shimmered in the scorching heat. There were nine lanes, and nine competitors. Only eight of them would score points for their teams. None of them could make any mistakes. This had to be the best race of their young careers.
Sweat trickled off of my eyebrow and into my eye, leaving a salty sting in its wake. “On your marks” shouted the official. With a slight readjustment of my sweat soaked jersey, I mounted my blocks. Shoving everything else from my mind I focused on the hurdle in front of me.
Many of these athletes had expected to find themselves in this position. Through the whole season they had been preparing for this race, every one of them knew they would be here. They were all mentally prepared, as well as physically. Except for me. Nobody expected me to be in the state finals. Heck, I still couldn’t believe it.
At region I wasn’t expected to be a competitor. During the race one of the leaders tripped on a hurdle. Three of us passed him; only one of us went on to state. I beat both of them on the lean. Less than a second divided the three of us.
Two weeks later found me in the qualifying rounds at state. I didn’t even deserve to race on such a magnificent track. All I could hope for was a decent race, a race that wouldn’t completely embarrass me.
Yet again I lucked out. Or did I? With the speed and agility only the elite had, I found myself flying around the track. It was a miracle; not only did I run one of the best races in my hurdling career, but I made it into the state finals.
The next day my name was in the paper. All my life I have wanted recognition for my athletic prowess, finally I received it. After all my hard work, I was someone that could accomplish the ultimate goal. It was my first year running the 300 hurdles, and I was going to win state.
Usually I looked down on superstition. But somewhere along the line that had all changed. From eating the same breakfast to tying my shoes, everything was going to be the same as the day before. In the qualifying rounds I had one of the best races of my life. This race couldn’t get botched, it meant way too much. Everything had to be exactly the same.
“GET SET” came the call. With a loud bang, I surged from my blocks, careening down the scorching blue track. First one hurdle and then the next, I was really doing it, I was going to win.
“CRACK” my knee slammed into the third hurdle. Mentally refocusing, I forced the agonizing pain from my mind. Pushing my legs harder and faster than ever before, I surged to make up lost ground. They were not going to get away.
“CRACK” I crashed into the next hurdle. My timing was off! During those terrifying seconds of reality, I looked up and saw my coach yelling at me. “Come on Zac you can do it. Attack the hurdles.” Flinging myself at the next hurdle only worsened my plight. Another ear splitting crack filled the air. As the hurdle fell, so did my dreams.
Faster than I anticipated the other competitors pulled away leaving me in their dust. Already I could see their mocking smiles. Serves me right for pretending to be as good as they were. Someone else was going to win.
Finally I cleared a hurdle, breaking the heart-wrenching streak. Determined not to give up, I called on the core of my being. It was too late though, if only I hadn’t hit so many hurdles! With each passing second my amazing come-from-behind win slid through my fingers.
Stumbling through the finish line everything became a blur. The hours of practice the pain the frustration, all forsaken on a couple of hurdles. It didn’t matter that even having hit three hurdles I got the same exact time as the day before. None of it mattered. My team wouldn’t be getting any points from my efforts. The only medal I’d be taking home were the bruises on my legs.
The papers had overestimated my abilities; I had overestimated my abilities. Slowly my race faded from the minds of the onlookers. Along with the race fading, I faded. Nobody cared who I was anymore. I had come in last.