Gunshot.
And all we know how to do is run.
We run. We sprint.
Nothing else matters right now.
There’s screams all around us, red under our feet.
We run. We sprint.
Our African and Caribbean blood
desperately pumping around our bodies.
Sweat dripping from us.
We’re trying to breath. Can’t breath.
We run. We sprint.
50m. 75m.
We run. We sprint.
100m. 150m
We run. We sprint
And I can’t see them anymore.
I’ve lost them behind me in the noise.
I’ve lost them behind me in the madness.
I’ve lost them behind me.
175m and I’m finding pace I never knew I had.
I need it.
200m.
And I stop.
I can hear the cheering. It’s over; I’ve won.  A second later
5 other year 10’s follow me over the finish line.