Never have I been more overtaken by fear than when I was sandwiched between two four-foot tall fifth grade girls sporting clunky running shoes and skyscraper high ponytails framed by neon headbands. I sneakily glance at them while wiping my sweaty hands onto my bright blue t-shirt and sparkly leggings donning my school colors. Behind us, the high-pitch cheers from the spectators of the annual All Island Track Meet ring through my ears.
Every year, fifth graders from the three elementary schools in our district flock to the local high school track vying for the revered title of best elementary school. I was selected as my school’s esteemed representative competing in the 800-meter race. Actually, I wasn’t picked; I was the second choice. After the first choice decided running two laps would cause her to break a sweat, the PE teacher desperately asked people if they would run the race, until he found his way to me. I looked down at my hands, praying he wouldn’t call on me. I was not a runner; after school, you could find me at home curled up with a book or braiding intricate bracelets with my friends while we sang and danced to High School Musical. Nevertheless, I couldn’t bring myself to say no to the teacher who helped me win intense games of dodgeball by permitting my messy fortresses of mats. So, I was stuck running 800 meters. …show more content…
I unconsciously let their reassurance subdue my frantic thoughts and twiddling thumbs. I started thinking about the savory mac and cheese waiting on the stove when the whistle screech abruptly interrupts the creamy cheddar taste materializing in my mouth. Before I knew it, the two girls were ahead of me; I chanted in my head to pace myself so I wouldn’t burn out early in the race. As I huffed and puffed, I watch the two girls running side by side becoming smaller and smaller as the distance between us
Every year, fifth graders from the three elementary schools in our district flock to the local high school track vying for the revered title of best elementary school. I was selected as my school’s esteemed representative competing in the 800-meter race. Actually, I wasn’t picked; I was the second choice. After the first choice decided running two laps would cause her to break a sweat, the PE teacher desperately asked people if they would run the race, until he found his way to me. I looked down at my hands, praying he wouldn’t call on me. I was not a runner; after school, you could find me at home curled up with a book or braiding intricate bracelets with my friends while we sang and danced to High School Musical. Nevertheless, I couldn’t bring myself to say no to the teacher who helped me win intense games of dodgeball by permitting my messy fortresses of mats. So, I was stuck running 800 meters. …show more content…
I unconsciously let their reassurance subdue my frantic thoughts and twiddling thumbs. I started thinking about the savory mac and cheese waiting on the stove when the whistle screech abruptly interrupts the creamy cheddar taste materializing in my mouth. Before I knew it, the two girls were ahead of me; I chanted in my head to pace myself so I wouldn’t burn out early in the race. As I huffed and puffed, I watch the two girls running side by side becoming smaller and smaller as the distance between us