Swimming race

It comes down to the final ten meters at the end of the race to see who will win the Olympic crown. No one speaks a word, there isn’t even cheering. Electricity floods the atmosphere, as it is the one things that is keeping my skinny swimmer body going. Every split second and every millimeter left in the race could be the very birth place of my tragic fall. Gazing into the crowd I can see the frantic fans, just waiting to welcome a new champion in a profound few. Chlorinating the white waters is the smell of sweat from swimmers on my right and left, but only one person on my right has what it takes to beat me in these last ten meters. Winning this race would be like being born again, I would have a new beginning and everyone would love me. To be the underdog is always hard, but to be the underdog and to handle adversity is near impossible for a normal swimmer. My capabilities are beyond anyone else though, even if no one else knows it, but me. Now inches away from a photo finish and from being on top of the world. When hitting the touch-pad I can taste my victory as I have done the impossible and beat the all mighty Brit. Suddenly as I look at the times is see that I have lost by a hundredth of a second. All colors turn to gray and everything including the cheers in the crowd are now the sounds failure as I now sulk in disbelief. Loosing has never come easy; loosing is the single most depressing thing in me like. Losing has never come easy; Loosing this race defines me and all the stereotypes around me.