Breathe…this thought quickly subsides, and all that remains is the pulsing sensation surging in my ears. The cold air cuts into my lungs and takes the breath right out of me. I look to my right and see my two competitors, but for the next four minutes they are my team. They are what stand between me and the Junior World Speed Skating team.

As the starter calls us to the line, doubt floods our conscious minds. Our opposing team standing on the other side of the oval is three girls who have qualified for the junior team. Who are we, but just a meager three?

As the gun goes off, we begin to skate. The bold six on the lap board taunts us. Never before has it looked so cruel. The brutal wind blows, and not to mention the temperature refuses to rise above zero.
Finally…the lap board shows one to go. Forcing our legs to continue on, we reach the last corner.
“You got to go!” bellows our coach, “Work this last corner and you’re done!”
As the crowd grows louder, the sound around me fades. Now, it is me and my teammates helping each other to the end. Like water, words of encouragement flow. As we exit the last turn, we force our weary legs to sprint to the finish. The pain is drowned out by my coach’s voice echoing through my head, mind over matter, kid.

Crossing the line, we look to see a fraction of a second separates their team from ours. Thousandths of a second turn into thousands of miles as only four girls take the podium to represent team USA in Italy. The silence after the fourth and final name is called screams words of discouragement in my ear. These words spark a realization. I possess something that none of those four girls do; the painful memory that dwells in this moment. It will persuade me through times of doubt and push me through the agony of the blisters and bruises that are to come in the next twelve months of training. Sore muscles and heavy legs are insignificant to the motivation this memory conjures.