The Track Meet
My knees were shaking as I stepped down from the school bus into the parking lot of my rival school. Several of its students had been my best friends in Junior High, but now there was an awkward, mile-wide canyon between us.
It was the day of my first track meet. Becca laughed and chatted at my side as we walked to the field. My coach, and brother, Matthew, led us to the throwing ring. My stomach knotted painfully as my heart pounded against my ribcage.
I paced nervously as, one by one, girls much bigger than I hurled their discs into the field.
It was my turn to throw. I stepped into the ring, clinging to the yellow discus in my hands.
"Breathe." I whispered to myself. I stepped into my throwing stance, and turned, extending my left are in front, right arm in back. One deep breath and I twisted, thrusting my arm forward with all of my strength, a loud grunt of effort escaping my lips.
That baby flew forever, it seemed. I laughed when they said it was a 100 foot throw. That couldn't be right.
I sat straight up in bed as my alarm clock screeched at me. Today was the day of my first track meet...