As my father and I pulled up to Clarkston High School, a million questions were running through my mind. Did I have all my stuff? Could I break the school record? Could I win?

“Are you ready?” my father questioned.
“I think so.” I replied.
It was May 29th, the day of the Oakland County Track Meet. My coaches, Mr. O’Brian and Mrs. Ex had allowed me, a 7th grader to go. I couldn’t believe it. Very few 7th graders were invited. I never thought I would go. Mrs. Ex had stopped me at my last track meet and saw that my two-mile time-13:36- qualified for the County Meet. I agreed to go, and now I was walking into Clarkton High.
I walked into Clarkston’s gym and saw my teammates. We were all wearing the same thing: the red Royal Oak Middle School track shirts and black track shorts. I had on neon blue shoes that made me stand out from my team. My coaches saw and ran over.
“There’s our two mile runner! Are you excited?” they asked.
“Very.”
I was excited, but I was also terrified. I had won every two-mile race during the season, but that was because I had no competition.
I had about an hour until my race. I walked out to the track and saw a lot of people. There were people everywhere! Kids were running around, doing warm up laps and practicing hurdles. I overheard a group of girls talking about their races. Two of them were going to run the two-mile. I did a quick warm up lap and the group of girls did the same. While I was running, I realized I was way ahead of the girls. But that didn’t mean anything. They could be faster than me. I paced around while more questions ran through my mind. Was I the fastest? Could I win?  The announcer quickly interrupted my thoughts.
“First call 3200 meter runners!”
That was me. My teammates wished me luck and my coaches walked over.
“Christina,” they began, “don’t worry about your competition. Just focus on beating your time. Good luck!”
I jogged to the infield where I waited patiently for my race. Other girls were beginning to join me. I had never had this much competition. I put my hair in a ponytail and took a good look around. The track was huge-it looked bigger than most other tracks-and there were bleachers surrounding it. The bleachers were filled with my teammates, my family and other schools. There were runners everywhere. I had never run in front of so many people. I also noticed there were eight lanes instead of the usual six. The air was humid like a rainforest. It had just rained. I could already feel the sweat on my back and neck. I hate running in humid weather. My worst times happen when it’s humid. But there was no time for complaining. I could win this.
Then it was time for the race to start. I lined up with the 40 other girls. I wondered if I could beat them.
“Runners to your mark!” the announcer boomed.
I quickly got ready. I was freaking out.
“Set!”
I put my right foot in front of me. My stomach was doing somersaults. The gun went off and I almost hesitated. Almost.
I was off, passing a lot of girls. My eight laps were going to go quick. I had my hopes set on winning, but there were still girls in front of me.
Eight laps quickly became seven. Seven became six. Six became five. This was easy! Five laps became four. I was halfway done! My hopes of winning were beginning to diminish.
“No,” I told myself, “I can still do this.”
Then the girl who was currently in first lapped me. So much for winning. Maybe I can still get second or third.
Four laps became three. Three became two. I felt myself slowing down. No, I was not going to slow down. I was going to win.
It quickly became the last lap. I was going to go all out. I wasn't going to let anyone pass me either. I may not be in first, but I’m not stopping or slowing down at all.
Arms, 90 degrees, I thought. Hip to chin. Hip to chin. Lift and extend knees. Lift and extend knees. I ran harder and harder. I knew my legs were going to give out soon, but I kept going faster and faster. I wanted to beat my times.
100 meters left. I was sweating. My hair was falling in my face. The track seemed to be growing larger. I heard my team cheering. I was close to the finish line. I sprinted as hard as I could. I crossed over the bright white line and slowed down. I had finished!
After catching my breath, I walked over to a tent to get my place. I was in 14th. I didn't place. As upsetting as it was, I kept my head held high and walked back to the bleachers. Mrs. Ex ran over to me.
“Great job!” she cried. “That was amazing! Did they tell you your time?”
“No.” I mumbled.
“I timed it for you. Your time is 13:16. That's your best isn’t it?”
“Wow! Yeah it is!”
My time was 13:16. I had shaved off 20 seconds from my last time. 13:16. Wow. I couldn't believe I did that well.
“What was your place?” questioned Mrs. Ex.
“14th. I didn't place.”
“That's okay. You did your best and that's all that matters! Besides, you broke your personal best!”
“That's true!”
I went and sat with my teammates. They congratulated me and began to ask me questions.
“Did you beat the record?”
“No. The record is 12:15. I got 13:16. I need to shave off a minute.”
“That's okay. There’s always next year!”
I watched a few more races until I had to leave.
“Are you proud of yourself?” my father asked when we got back to the car. “Because I’m quite proud of you.”
I pondered what he said. I didn't win. I didn't place. I didn't break the school record either. But I ran my hardest. I looked back at the track as we pulled away and smiled.
“Yeah.” I said quietly. “I’m very proud.”
Besides, there’s always next year!