There are days when I go out and walk about the area I live in and I just want to break out and run. Not the run where one tries to escape the everyday trappings of life but a run to see just how fast I really am. When I played baseball, I loved the outfield. The chance to show just how fast I could be. The ball is hit high, barreling into the air and just when the crowd thinks it's a base hit, I show up to rob them of that run or a point. I lived for that. It was my world where I felt like I had no equal. When I was about ten they started an end of season field day events. I waited for those days. I looked at every game as a footstep closer to the tournaments. One event in particular stands out to me throughout all the years past. Even today it still holds up to be one of my greatest moments. One in where I defined what I could do and who I could be. The one time in my life where I knew my dad was proud of me.
It was a bright and early morning and here I am standing at Edgewater Baseball park getting ready to compete in the end of season field day events. The park was located on the edge of a lake that I never knew the name of. Surrounding the park was a YMCA and campgrounds that held occasional fishing competitions every couple of months. It was a clean crisp fall morning and you could almost taste the misty dew in the air evaporating from the sun's heat. My father and I thought it would be best to sign up for the race considering how fast I am compared to the other kids. I was always fast even for a kid my size. For as longas I can remember I have always enjoyed running. Listening to the wind in my ears as it moves past me getting louder and louder as I run faster and faster hoping one day that I would hear the wind no more. As a child it seems as an achievable goal. My father walked up to me and put his hands on my shoulder. He looked at me with a smile that I had not seen in years and told me to just run. No matter what I do just run and I'll win. He then told me that he knew I'd win no matter what. He told me that not because he thought that I was faster but because he wanted me to know that no matter the outcome I'd be his winner. With a smile, I told my father that I was faster than everyone here. This is cake. The certainty of my voice made my dad brighter. He then pat me on the back and told me to make sure my cleats were tight and ready to go. I did as my father said and sat down on a set of belchers that had not completely dried from the morning sun. I jumped up as quickly as I could to avoid a wet bottom and ridicule from my teammates that were also here for the events. Luckily, I only had a small spot on my pants according to my dad. I kneeled on the ground and tighten my worn and dirty cleats and got up to walk towards the starting gate.
I remember seeing other contenders and feeling a certain uneasiness in my stomach. Some of the other boys were taller . Some of them had legs like stilts and as I look at them all I felt doubt began to sink in. I didn't think I could beat these other kids anymore. All my faith seemed to be sapped out of me. During the others games when I was not playing, I noticed another player stealing bases. I thought he was so quick and wanted to run like he did. Here he was stretching for the race that I was in. There was no way in the world that I could possibly be faster than he is. It was now time to line up on the chalk and race. Cheers began to radiate from the stands to the left of us. I looked over and noticed that my teammates were there standing on the metal seats with my dad alongside them. Other parents, forgetting their adulthood, had joined into the ruckus. They shouted and yelled motivating statements like free pizza and ice cream if I win. I began to regain some of the lost confidence from early and prepared to move on the whistle. We stood on the line each one in own stance.The whistle went off and so were we. Everyone moved off the line as if our lives were at stake. One by one, the runners began to fall back till there was no one there but the nameless runner and I. Slowly he began to pull away from me. The wind began to talk, teasing and taunting me playfully. Telling me to try and keep up. Telling me to move faster. I ran as hard as I could, never giving an inch. The finish line was close now and soon I was past it. I slowed my run to a trot and then to a brisk walk. I turned around and noticed the other runner looked winded. He had both hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Walking towards the judge, my friends were running over yelling at me. I couldn't hear anything. The only thing I wanted to hear was my name announced as the winner. Instead of elevated screams of joy, I let out a sigh of disgust as the judge proclaimed that it was a tie and the race between the two of us had to be ran again.
Once again I find myself at the starting line but this time instead of multiple enemies there is only one. He looked down at me and told me that I was very fast. I replied back in kind and got ready to move. I did not want lose this race. I didn't want to lose at anything I ever did. Losing just didn't sit well with me and I think my father knew this. But he never knew the reason why and to this day it still eludes him. I now knew what the running had in him and I knew I had more. I could feel it. It was almost when a warrior on the field had met his match in battle. And as the warriors locked eyes, they knew that this was the moment that they waited for. The one time in life when everything they ever done had begin to make sense. Neither side giving an inch and fighting with everything they had inside. But the fight was all that they lived for. Not the chance to kill but the chance to be better than they were when they step on the field.
Now I felt like I could beat this guy. Now I felt empowered. I felt that he was nothing to me in this and I was determined to prove it. All I had to do was get off of that line and not look back. This time we both got down low to the ground at the line and waiting for what seemed like an eternity. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as I looked ahead at the traffic of cars on the road just past the parking lot well beyond the finish line. I could feel my heart inside beginning to beat harder and faster like a jack hammer with anticipation. Once again, the whistle went blaring into the air and the race was once again in progress. I pushed off that line like a bullet out of the chamber of a gun still smoking. Every step I took pushed me closer to the finish line faster and faster. As I ran all I did was concentrate on the run. There was nothing else in my mind. All I had to do was run. The wind began to speak but I could only make out hushed whispers as it began to die down while the race moved on and I moved faster. Everything that I am was in even step that I took. My legs burned and my muscles stretched and reached for every once of energy. My arms were pushing and pumping me forward and soon all I heard was silence. My eyes locked onto the goal and before I knew it, the finish line blurred past me . I slowed down rapidly and fell down. As I tumbled across the wet and freshly mowed green grass, I noticed that I still could not hear anything. I came to my knees only to be dog-piled by my teammates. There were a multitude of words none of which I heard save for one thing. Winner.
