Kendle was a human arrow when the starter's gun shattered the expectant silence. His feet pounded as he raced down the guide wire that allowed him to run in the first place. The wind whistled pleasantly behind his ears as he ran. His goal? The single piece of rolled tape that would mark the end of the 60 meter dash. His Purpose? To beat the kid from Ohio who had successfully beaten him every year since he had begun participating in his school's track team. The Indiana School for the Blind and Visually Impaired was his school, and he had been practicing his sport for four years now. He had been blind for three of those four years. He was a sophomore, and since this would be his last year in Track and Field because of his grades and his parents' wish for him to drop an activity, he wanted to make this worth his while.
He heard the pounding feet behind him. Craig, he knew,was gaining on him. From the wayCraig ran, it sounded like he had been in this a year longer, this made Kendle a little nervous, but he didn't let it affect his performance. He would be no less than his best, this afternoon, no less�
Kendle's breathing was slow and even. In, one stride, two strides. Out, one stride, two strides. He was an excellent sprinter, he knew, but he was a better distance runner. His feet were now making very little noise in his sokony runners, and he smiled inwardly. Let Craig think he had the race.
Then he heard them, the feet were keeping pace with his, Kendle wasn't about to tie this thing, not on his life! He knew that if he didn't win this, his coach would be extremely pissed. Not only at Kendle's lack of placing first, but also that Ohio would win the Conference, again.
Craig put on an extra burst of speed and passed Kendle.
Kendel put on an even more wreckless burst and screamed by Craig, only to skid to a stop seconds later at the tape rold around the guide wire marking the end of the race.
Craig came in behind him, and both he and Kendle heard the beeping of stopwatches. Both he and Kendle waited, waited, and interminably, waited.
"And Kendle from ISBVI takes first place in his heat!"
Kendle heard Craig curse, not altogether a bad sound. Kendle thought he heard a note of respect in the cursing, though, which pleased him, but then he was too busy crying to notice much of anything else. He cried, letting out mixed emotions of effort, joy and grief. Mr. Farley came to collect him, then. Mr. Farley was the best coach ever, Kendle thought with pleased detachment,even if he wasn't in Track anymore, he would always remember his coach. He now Knew he could leave the sport in the hands of those who would succeed him, holding nothing but joy in the departure.
I think it's interesting that you can slide real names in there and elude to people you have dealings with without others knowing who they really are. It gives me no end of pleasure to use my very first running trainer in my story as coach. He was just awesome and he keep encouraging me when I wanted to give it up and give in. The golden shoe award was somewhat due to his influence and that time coaches hard work. It's too bad my career went to shits wit the advent of the Boston style back brace. I still miss running, and said sensation of the wind behind the ears.