District Champ

There was always another, a hurdle,

And though I was a jumper, my blood would curdle

At the sight, seemingly impossible to overcome.

I would shut my eyes and see you at the finish line—

All I had to do was cross it and you would be mine.

But the jumps were high and my spirits low.

How many races I had lost before,

How many scrapes and muscles, sore—

Such were my pre-game thoughts.

I hated the pressure, I hated the game.

Trying my hardest it would all end the same.

I tried to think of it as a race against myself.

But it never is. Because she’s always there in the next lane.

Running her fastest, she seems numb to the pain

That burns deep through my limbs.

We had shaken hands, even exchanged names,

Then she’d psyched me out with her titles, claims.

Anxiety rising, I took a deep breath,

Then took my mark out on the track.

The gun went off with a loud crack

And I ran until we were neck and neck.

And then...I knew it. I knew I could win,

I just had to ignore the pain in my shin.

The second wind pushing me around the last bend,

I jumped the last hurdle and pulled in first,

Smiling at how I had feared the worst,

And crying at the touch of my prize...The End.