Fast

 

Near fifteen-thousand yesterdays ago I lower myself into a set of blocks,

kick each leg out behind me once, adjust my thumbs and fingers just so –

against the line I must start behind

Last one in, first one out. That’s my trick

My heart pounding in my chest, but I am not afraid or nervous

I am confident in what is about to happen

There is no pace to be had – only speed

I look down the track at row after row of hurdlers daunting as life itself

I wait for the gun

Each step is planned and I will find that familiar rhythm between each barrier I don’t even want to graze

click, click, click – extend- clup, click, click, click – extend – clup, click, click, click – extend – without slowing

head even with the profiled-horizon like viewing it from the top of a wooden fence – as the late Coach Joe Hartney always said

Strong through the finish – lean in and break that little string

For many, in youth, there is speed, without thought, the ability to accelerate, seemingly without effort

So easy, it is taken for granted, whether chasing down a fly ball, returning a punt, leading a fast break, or sprinting down a track

Unspoken, maybe unrecognized, yet beautiful, gliding, smooth,

I betrayed my high school teammates like my knee betrayed me

Turning my back on the unknown, hoping to preserve what remained

Now I watch my son run the track, just learning but full of potential, with the ability to accelerate, the ability to be…

Fast

© – 2018