The morning of – Those few hours spent in a quiet hotel room, as the energy outside bubbles up to the point of nearly boiling over. “It’s like a holding tank…”
The anticipation. You have been patient. You have worked hard for months. This has lived at the forefront of your mind for years. You have been aligning your stars to reach this very day, this very moment in time. Yet, you still dread the feelings that dwell inside of you before the guns goes off. You can only stomach enough for a a few bites of a banana.
Your singlet is laid out like a trophy — awaiting the salt-soaked state that it will find itself in only a few hours time — pressed upon your chest, then crumbled on your hotel room’s floor.
“I just want the gun to go off…”
You sort frantically through your thoughtfully packed bag, and your things begin to look more like a pile of dirty laundry. You have everything you need… except your scrunchy. You don’t have your scrunchy? You can’t race well without your scrunchy.
Your mind becomes a checklist. What else do I need to set myself up for the best race possible? The past few months of preparation seem to completely slip from your mind.
Yet that little voice in your head quickly snaps back. “Chill.”
You’ve done all the work, now it’s time to race and show the world what has been brewing.