It is the only thing that scares me. I am not the only one to step onto it. One starting line with hundreds of girls that are nervous for the race ahead. One that holds the fate of the runners. One starting line placed there to psych me out. From the side, spectators can see it, but the smart ones head to the back of the course.

Its intensity is no secret. Teammates send good luck to each other as they take off their sweats. The nerves get higher as the countdown time gets lower, and the starting line awaits the spikes that will be stepping on it. This is how it goes.

Let one never forget their reason for racing, for the satisfaction at the end trumps the feeling at the start. Go, go, go, everyone says when the gun goes off. They shout.

When I am too tired, sore, and drained to keep going, when my legs hurt and I can’t catch my breath, I think back to the starting line. When I think there is nothing left. One I had the courage step over. One that held opportunity and possibility. One whose reason to finish is for the team.