Hannah Hearn ’13
Every Friday afternoon my life is turned upside down by
The mile
I cross my fingers and pray I will somehow injure my leg,
yet every Friday afternoon I am forced to run
The mile
Stomach lurching with fear, I stand at the starting line,
waiting for the gun to go off.
My brain is confused as to why I am running
The mile
My body tells my brain I do not want to run,
I am hot and the pain in my legs begins after
One lap
There are still seven more laps to go in
The mile
Coach is yelling at me to
run faster. When I pick up the pace,
the maroon jersey of the girl
in front of me gets closer.
My spikes pick up speed, as I come near to the end of
The mile.
The last of the saliva in my mouth has been used.
My mouth is uncomfortable and dry,
but my mind focuses on the
last lap
As I sprint through the finish line,
nearly collapsing from
The mile
My face is sticky with sweat,
a feeling I dislike.
I bend over the trashcan,
waiting for the Power Bars
eaten before the meet to rise,
but they do not come.
By some miracle, I have survived
The mile