What the duck are people yelling at? I looked down to make sure there wasn’t a racial slur written on any of my clothes. Nope. What is the deal? I kept on going. Again, more yells. I didn’t have the energy to find out what was going on. I decided to look straight ahead and focus on the music in my ears. What was wrong with the world. Why was I getting punished for being privileged? The irony in that statement. But it was the truth. I forgot about everything around me the second my feet felt the spongy track. I really didn’t think anything of it until the memories came rushing back. It had been so long—too long. The last time I was on a track I had to hop on one leg back to the team bus. That 10 minute experience is to this day the most helpless and worthless I have ever felt. I never made a conscious decision to avoid “the circle”, it just sort of happened through my subconscious. Three years, six months to the day, I was back. Not much had changed except my physique and youthfulness. I couldn’t help but wonder what could have been? Sometimes I wonder if you never really know what you want until you know the outcome.
The track
Advertisement
