Advertisements
3…
How did I get here?
Six months ago—
gasping in the thin Colorado air,
barely able to focus on one event.
Side-eyes, shaking heads,
whispers that I didn’t belong.
And maybe I didn’t.
2…
But slowly, steadily,
I trained my body to adapt.
Not just to endure the strain—
but to thrive in it.
Fatigue no longer bent my form.
Now, curious eyebrows lift:
Maybe I belong.
1…
With effortless ease,
they come to me for advice.
The world stage opens,
a stadium packed,
all eyes fixed on me.
I am...
BANG!
The one who shoots the fake gun to start a race.