Isabel, Age 12, Atwater, CA

A thin, cool breeze sends her hair flying back. There are leaves tangled in her hair from the trees. But that didn’t matter to her. All that mattered right now was the track straight in front of her. Her long muscular legs would carry her to the finish line. Boy, how she looks forward to seeing that golden plated piece of plastic swinging freely around her neck. And all she has to do is sprint. There is no way the racers behind her are going to catch up. She has a least a 200 meter lead.

“Never underestimate anything.” she tells herself.

At this thought, she begins sprinting faster and faster. Her heart is beating so wildly that it feels as if it is going to leap right out of her chest at any moment. As she turns the corner to the finish line she can hear the crowd cheering and screaming. She also hears her mother screaming at her to sprint faster even though she is clearly going to win. Finally the instant comes when she passes through the slim faded-white piece of yarn used for the finish line. She is proud of herself.

An artificial version of a gold medal is positioned around her neck. Engraved on it are a few people running but only one person crossing the finish line. She turns it over to the back side where the words “First Place” are carved. Her mother comes running up to her good job and to give her a friendly hug to show her glee. She hears nothing but good compliments the rest of the day. This is just the way she plans the race to go. This is just the way she plans the race to always go.

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