It was a hot summer day in Virginia.
The stadium was filled with 25,000 fans.
I was eleven. After 2 hours of waiting in the hot July sun
my name was called to do the long jump. My whole
body was shaking because I could feel everyone’s
eyes on me. I was eleven. I bolted down the runway
and snapped off the board as far and high as I possibly
could. I was Eleven. “Fifteen Feet,” the official called out.
A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders because
I knew that jump was far enough to qualify me for the finals.
After a few hours the meet officials announced the top 8 finalists.
My name was called. I was currently in seventh. I was given
three more attempts. So I did my three jumps but
unfortunately none of them were as far as 15 feet. I was eleven.
However it was still far enough to
earn a national ranking and a big, shiny medal
to go around my neck. I stood there on the podium
smiling for the flashing cameras, I was eleven.