I can't see the finish.
At least...not yet.
From the second I begin my warm up to the second I crouch at the starting line, I know it's gonna hurt. I know I have to give it my all, despite the hurt. It's all or nothing.
But sometimes...sometimes the brain doesn't work like that.
Sometimes you crouch at the starting line with a feeling of dread sitting like a stone in your stomach, and all the stone wants to do is fall to the ground and roll. Your body... it only wants to follow. You beg the ground to give way from beneath your feet so that you don't have to do this, even though you know you don't. You could stand up, say that you quit, and walk away, and everyone knows that. But you can't.
Your team needs you.
You need you.
So, you get into your starting position, eyes focused on the path ahead. Your mind...it could be anywhere.
But it's not.
Your mind is on the race ahead, and you can't get it off. It's like a fly, buzzing around your vision. It's not going away anytime soon. Unless you kill it. Get it over with. Stop being a coward.
Stop trying to be strong on your own. You can't. You need God's strength to get you through this.
Just as you tell yourself this...it's too late. The gun has gone off and you are running, knowing that God is your strength, He's running this race, not you.
Your legs are moving, and your mind is completely focused on the race, on picking up the pace, reeling in the pain of the best pace. The best pace is suicide, and today is a good day to die. You're not ready to die. You're too young.
But you're never too young to stand on the podium. To get a place, to go to state, to give God the glory, to win. So you run faster. You run harder, you make your arms pump at a speed you never thought they could. You mind is in control now, and you are in charge of your mind. Pain is nothing. Your body is nothing. It's all your mind.
It's your mind when you see the finish line. That's why your legs start turning faster, your breath comes in harder. Your mind is why you relax your face, tense the rest of your body, and sprint towards the finish line like you're in the line of fire.
But you're still getting hit.
Bullets are raining down on you, pelting your calves, your thighs, your head. There's blood. It's clear blood, running in sticky, shiny, smelly rivers down your arms and legs. But the pain is nothing. Your body knows nothing. It's all your mind.
Your mind is the one who conquers when you cross the finish line like spaghetti. You fall, you wobble, you lose all of the protein you worked so hare to obtain. Your body is completely shot down.
But your mine--your mind has conquered your body. And that is the best won battle of all.