Sprinting Up Hills

 

 

“Sprint” he yells.

 

Four bodies take off in front of me, strides stretching as they move further into the dark. I can hear the sound of their runners hitting the bitumen as I wait for them to reach the first street light and come into view.

 

“Go to the second post this time” says the coach.

 

I measure his words in my thoughts. I look to Bill next to me, his body is tense but his eyes are wide, unfocussed, almost sad. Julian and Daryl are silent to my right.

 

“Sprint”.

 

I’ve missed the start but soon my legs are pumping sideways, straightening as the first few metres disappear into the grey blur. Julian has the jump. I can see his upright style moving away from the hill almost to the first lamp post. I must lift my knees higher, get my arms moving. I must go faster. Bill is next to me. I can’t be weak. I’m gaining .... gaining .... I feel the incline steepen. I gulp another breath.

 

There is time to contemplate the distance between Julian and I: three metres, four metres .... could be more. Suddenly, I can feel Bill by my side, his feet are skipping over the ground, his neck straining forward pulling his body up the hill. Daryl slides past. I scream inwards and my legs rip away from the stickiness of the ground. I feel the moisture in my throat dry up its length, now  my right leg reaches its highest point, muscles pulling away from the bone and a twitch breaks up my spine ..... Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

 

I’m running in slow motion.

 

I’m watching myself moving, a human animation.

 

Daryl moves frame by frame closer.

 

 

 

I sense Bill losing ground, Julian is shortening his strides as the second post moves to us. Suddenly I am there and I let my legs fall and I feel the air rush into my lungs.

 

There is pain and a simple perfection.