An ear snapping bang cut threw the spring air as a wave of runners took of from a waterfall start. The 4x800m relay had began on the new track surrounding the soft green tuff of the new football field. The team's first runner Justin,  a track veteran and in the mints of a breakout season, was taking a small lead in the first 400 meters. A gentle wind blew as the runners finished their first lap and made their way around the first lap. The sound of hands clapping and teammates cheering filled the air.

I found myself standing next to the track, dressed in the dark red trojan tank top and short running shorts, the standard uniform for any runner on the track team. With a borrowed pair of spikes on my feet, and ice water running through my veins, I was waiting for my moment. I was runner number four, the last and final runner.

Justin was now finishing up his 2nd and final lap, and the next runner to represent the team was Shane. Shane received the baton with a humble look on  his face and took off around the first corner of the track. For what it seemed like seconds passed by and Shane was already finishing his leg of the race. I was so lost in nervousness and fear that it was impossible to think about anything other than what was about to come, what task I was about to attempt.

The baton made its way from Shane to the next runner Tucker; Tucker and Shane were both freshman at the time, and both, despite their young age, had shown a lot of potential as runners in the early weeks of the season. However, as the race went on the pack separated and we fell to second place. There was a large space of nothingness between Tucker and the runner who was in the lead. The space was doing nothing to aid my confidence, or my lack of it. 

Tucker came around, his short strides moving quickly as he fought hard to hold the lead, I knew that just in a  second that would be me. fighting, giving it everything that I had.
“Line up boys”  said a gray haired official in a loud monotone voice.

I watched as other runners lined up quickly and smoothly. They left the second lane open, so I started walking up with a confused look on my face.

“Hey you go here”  said a tall lengthy runner.

“Thanks fam” I say with a happy go lucky attitude.

As he started back at me with an an annoyed look on his face I started towards my place, my spikes sticking into the track with every step. I set my feet about shoulder width apart and waited.  The breeze slow down to nothing, and in the calmness, everything was still, everything but runners coming in.

The lead runner was charging into the exchange zone,  I watched helplessly as the baton made its way from runner to runner. The skinny long legged runner started off around the first turn. I stepped up and stared at Tucker, charging like a bull towards me. The shiny metallic colored batton swayed side to side a little as he was nearing the exchange zone. With a million thoughts of worry and doubt running through my head I started off, reaching my hand behind my back and tightly wrapping my hands around the batton. I saw the fatigue in Tucker's face as we completed the hand off. I was off. On each foot, 6 spikes dug into the soft track as I pushed myself forward, I felt the warm black track in the sunlight through the thin running spikes.  Around the first turn I felt my knees complain with pain as I went around.
“Go get 'em!” yelled a few parents I did not recognize

I pressed on hard, with adrenaline running through my body. I was running around the track. I lengthened my stride and focused in on the runner ahead of me, he was what seemed like a mile ahead of me. Many spectators had their eyes on me, but I never felt so alone in my life. It was at that moment that I decided that I was not going to give up, not going to back down from the task at hard. That was exactly what I was doing, with every step, with every fighting moment I was closing in, and that lead runner was growing bigger and bigger.  Cheering, which was once dismal, was growing with every inch I grew closer, every centimeter  adding more and more confidence to me.

There was nothing I wanted more. I was coming around for my first lap and my enemy was just 20 yards ahead of me. I saw the brown freckles that covered his back; I could hear him struggling for air. As I made it half way around my last lap, it was down to less than 10. This was it, this was my chance. I lengthened my strides as long as I thought possible; I moved into lane 2; we were shoulder to shoulder. I looked over at him just as he looked over to me, his face was covered in sweat, just as mine was, his eyes had a frightened look in them. I was just feet ahead of him now, I moved back into lane 1, just ahead of him.  With the finish line in sight, Justin, Shane, and Tucker cheering loudly from the infield, I was giving it all I had left. My legs felt numb, and I was struggling for air, my heart was beating so fast it felt like my chest was going to explode.  Out of my peripheral vision, I saw the other runner getting farther and farther away as the finish line got closer and closer. With just 20 yards to go, I gave one last kick, and crossed the the finish line in two minutes and 13 seconds, a giant PR for me, and my first feeling of victory. 

Looking back at that moment, I realize that I could have given up and fallen to the terrorizing space between the two of us, but I pressed on and fought until the end. You never truly know what your best effort can do until you go out and do it. That was a lesson I learned that day. I went on that season to continue running in the 4 by 800, but also doing well in the 4 by 400 and 400. On the day I never gave up, I found one of my true talents.