Focus. Clear your mind. Think of nothing else but the next hundred metres.
Block everything out beyond the borders of your lane. Tunnel vision – the start line to the finish line and nothing else.
Remember your training: concentration; balance; commitment.
‘On your marks.’ You step forward, steady yourself, one last look into the crowd to see your father staring back at you. You can do this, his eyes encourage.
‘Set.’ Shut everything else out. Deep breath. Wait for the starter gun.
Go on the ‘B’ of the ‘Bang.’
Your off and running. Let if flow, don’t worry about what the others are doing. Run your own race.
Cheers and shouts from the sidelines, ignore them, don’t be distracted. Someone nearby pulls up. No one else is in sight, the finish line is approaching.
You run through the tape first, you have done it, the winner!
You throw your hands in the air, only then realising that your egg is no longer on your spoon.
Dad is there and puts a comforting arm around your shoulder.
‘Unlucky,’ he says. You see your egg lying forlornly on the ground fifty metres back down the track. ‘Maybe next year.’
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit HERE.
To read more of the stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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