3200

Who needs grammar, pronoun consistency, rhythm, rhyme, etc.? It's called free verse for a reason.

We’re amazing.

You “could never do that.”

We’re the brave ones,

Or maybe we’re just stupid.

Kinda cliché, but remarkably accurate.

Waiting until the second-to-last event

(The “main” one, we say),

Going for five-plus hours without eating,

Spending the most time worrying

About what’s ahead.

We can handle it, though.

We didn’t choose this ‘cause we were wimps.

Start your warmup during the 300 hurdles -

Bathroom, jog, dynamics, 2-1-1 -

Then it’s off to the infield,

Put on our spikes,

Do drills and strides,

Anxiety mounting,

Lips being pulled more tightly together

As our hearts become tenser.

Wait for a million stupid 200s to finish -

Could’ve raced already in the time it takes these sprinters to prepare.

Get a number on your hand, maybe,

Sometimes a sticker on your chest or hip,

And if tonight’s really special,

Take the jog of honor

Up the home stretch

To the starting line.

Listen to the old guy in the red jacket with the gun -

Blah, blah, one stride length ahead before you cut in, eight laps, we get it, this ain’t our first rodeo -

Wish people luck,

Maybe joke around a bit,

Because why not?

Eight laps of party -

Here we go.

 

Step back from the starting line.

Father, Son, Holy Spirit -

Maybe family’s watching.

Maybe I don’t notice.

“Take your mark,”

Skitter forward,

Shoulder to shoulder, toe just behind the line.

Stare intently at the starter -

Wait for the smoke.

CRACK,

Anxiety falls away,

Sprinting forward, jostling, elbows, dodging,

Get into your place, not too far ahead, let those girls go,

Cut in now, don’t get stuck, there you go, relax, settle in.

Everyone always takes the first lap too fast.

Get into the rhythm,

Striding, gasping, pumping arms,

Stick in right behind the girl ahead of you -

Maybe she’ll pull you to a PR.

Oh, wait.

She’s slowing down?

Darn it.

Edge up on the side -

Are we gonna do this?

Can we do it?

Yeah.

Let’s go for it.

Pass and keep going faster,

Leave that stride room behind you before you cut back in.

Great.

Now you’re alone.

Better have some good motivation.

Around, around, around,

Darkened sky, under the lights,

It’s cold after sundown, but that’s what makes it perfect.

This is what flying feels like.

Sometimes you’re completely alone

With only the sound of your breathing

And the smack of your spikes on the track.

Other times you’re surrounded by voices,

Cheering, screaming,

Telling you the weirdest things they’ve ever said.

Taking down each lap, one at a time,

Hear the split at the start of each one,

Calculate, predict,

Hope for the best and work for it.

Past the crazy parents,

100 meters, there’s Coach,

Giving some vague advice or just staring at you.

Doing great, or lost cause?

Who knows.

Back stretch,

Teammates screaming in the stands

Or on the infield -

It’s nice.

Even the sprinters know my name.

200 meters,

There’s Coach (the other one),

Saying “Good job!” or whatnot,

Holding the clipboard and the stopwatch,

Sprinting back to the start line or wherever.

Around the turn, sometimes more parents

Or voices more surprising,

Whatever, I’ll take anything,

Home stretch, spectators cheering in the stands -

No crowd going wild, since eleven isn’t exactly a crowd -

But sometimes it’s more.

Teammates on the infield too,

Telling you to keep it up,

Pass the line again,

Another lap down.

First mile’s okay.

Fifth lap gets brutal.

Got to remind yourself

That it’s all gonna be worth it,

Keep pushing through the suckiest part,

When you’re tired, but not yet close to done.

800 meters left -

A race I despise, but it means there’s only half a mile -

Start gunning for it,

Listening for the time,

Calculating,

Pushing.

400 meters.

Bell lap, if I were in first.

Imagine it anyway.

Start going hard,

Sprinting now,

You were pushing before, but this is all you’ve got,

300, 200, this is where you kick it,

Come around to that home stretch, racing the time on the clock,

You’re gonna do it, imagine the person

Coming up behind you,

Doesn’t matter that you’re totally by yourself, you still go for it,

Ride the wave of screaming as you fly towards the finish line,

Pain, pain, soon it’s gonna be over,

Cross, smile, stop, collapse,

Covered in sweat, can’t breathe,

Eyes narrow and your vision gets blurry, fall over a little bit,

It’s okay, you’re fine,

Congratulate the ones you raced with,

You always did awesome, even if you didn’t,

Talk to your family, coaches, teammates,

Sweaty runner hugs are the best.

Grinning ear to ear, full of energy even though you’re exhausted

Because all the pain is worth it for that PR.

Under those lights, surrounded by the people you love,

Breaking down those walls within your body and mind.

People wonder why I’m crazy enough to run the 3200 -

This is it.

Author's Note

The longest race in high school track in the U.S. is 3200 meters, which is approximately two miles. (Wanna know how messed up our measuring system is? We measure the length of track races in meters, but the results of field events like pole vault, shot put, long jump, etc. in feet and inches. Oh well.) This clunky, far-from-eloquent poem is my attempt to convey my feelings about running this race, which is my favorite by far and the one I run most often. If the style or structure bother you... sorry. Not everything can be a masterpiece. :)

Reviews

[LastMonth]

That's freaking awesome.
The whole concept of long runs.

I usually try to run two times a week, each time for 5,000 Meters.
Though, I jog. I don't race. And I do it to stay in shape.

I really liked this.
I felt like I was having a conversation with the POV, it was wonderful. It almost felt like I was out there on the track, the way everything faded into one big mush is exactly how I'd describe it, if I was in that situation.

Overally a wonderful piece, which I enjoyed greatly.

[AliciaB]

Thank you very much!

[Dynafox]

This was great Ms. B. Not a very athletic person myself, so the insight to a runner was real cool. I'm sure this relates hundreds of people, not quite me, but now I have a little clue and idea into it. Great job

[AliciaB]

Haha! :) Thank you!

[Inject Positivity]

Whoa! Alicia, so this is a mystery of 3200? To be honest when I saw the title I thought it could be referred to an age... I never thought it would be 3200 meters race... So hats off for giving me beautiful surprise... You have shown the beauty of free verse, with lots of thoughts and talks... The most important part that I have found is that it has a constant intensity, just like the race you were talking about, the reader had to keep on running with a specific pace with your poem... To be able write long poems is a gift, which I will never have... Very creative work frnd... Great to visit your page, after a long time I have reviewed something on this site... Yay....

Sincerely
Dhiman

[AliciaB]

Thank you!

[Usman Muhammad]

To me there was a lot of motivation and inspiration.
I really liked the way you described your feelings and emotions in this writing. They seemed pretty accurate.
Sometimes you’re completely alone
With only the sound of your breathing
And the smack of your spikes on the track.
Other times you’re surrounded by voices,
When i read this stanza, it attracted me most, i don't know why, maybe because the environment it
created was beautiful and different to imagine.
You did awesome to explain your thoughts ,emotions, feelings on the track which you observed and that must be the soul purpose of writing.
Keep writing please, you have a bright future ahead.

[AliciaB]

Thank you so much!