Finals, 3rd Act.

Okay, NOW I'm nervous.

I don't know how the race will go, and it's unsettling.

I can win. I know I can win.

I don't really have much to say, it was a pretty uneventful final. Someone who had no business leading the race at all took it out in 62, and the field quickly strung out. My teammate Bennett, who had the fastest seed time by miles coming into the race, follows him. I try to go with the move but I'm boxed. By the time I'm out, he's far far around the bend.

It's alright, we're only 600m into the race. Lots of running to go.

Bennet extends his lead through 800m, as I lead the chase pack around the original leader, fighting the harsh winds on the backstretch. I'm more tired than I think.

Coming around with one lap to go, Bennett is way out in front, and I'm leading the chase pack that has been whittled down to 3 men. Having run the steeplechase the night before, I can see Bennett tying up. I start to move. I don't care about the two men hanging on my back.

I'm desperately closing the gap, step by step. Coming around the final bend I'm still over one second back. Yards closing between us become feet, then inches. I'm tying up. With 50m to go I realize that I'm not going to catch him. The two men following me are still on my shoulder, having matched every step thus far. Don't you fucking lose this spot.

I hold on for second. Freshman year, 5th. Last year, 3rd. This year, 2nd. But that doesn't tell the whole story. This year was far weaker. I ran slower than last year. I ran pretty similar to Freshman year. Prelims can explain some of that, but I wasn't really 'springy' for this race. I was right to worry, my speed hasn't come around like I'd like it too.

 I don't know if these last few weeks will see my months of toil pay off, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't worried. Maybe I'll try the 5k. We'll see. I have to do SOMETHING with this strength.