The Way It Will Be

My freshman year, I joined the cross-country team. There were six of us freshman, and four others. We won state. The next year, thanks to our success, we had six more freshman, plus several sophomores join the team. Our team was so young.

This is the poem that I wrote for the new people running before a state. They were all so worried, and us "old" team members often talked about how we could help them know what it was like.

The Way It Will Be

You'll wait, heart racing, nerves wracking, mind racing.

Calming them is the only hope.

You'll hear, the head man, the silent signal, the awaited gun.

You're alone among Them now.

You'll run, past tress, past unknown faces, past cheering friends.

Ignore all but the coach.

You'll gain, strength, speech, ground, power, on Them.

Pass them, and you have a chance.

You'll think, of your life, of past races, of pain.

Forget everything but running.

You'll feel, muscles, burning lungs, sweat dripping.

Make all of it go away.

You run, up hills, around lakes, across streets.

Race for the finish line.

You'll hear, your free pound, your heart race, the shouts.

Listen for Them from behind.

You'll see it, the final crowd, the final line, the final chance.

Do not ignore it.

Go now! Calm the fear, forget the pain, sprint out the heart.

Dig the monsters out of your soul.

You will, survive, walk without pain, breath again.

You will cross the finish line, ahead.