As Yohan Blake aligns his spikes into the blocks, a lone bead of sweat rolls down his cheek, and hangs on his chin before falling toward the steaming surface. For a fleeting moment, time stands still as his eyes follow the trajectory of his perspiration, glistening with the blinding reflections of a thousand cameras going off all at once. This is the Olympics, and the roar of the crowd is absolutely deafening.
His heart begins to pump, sucking quarts of blood at a time into the ventricles before forcefully expelling the oxygenated substance into the arteries that will distribute it throughout his body. His breathing begins to deepen, pulling huge swathes of oxygen into his anxiously awaiting lungs. And his heart is still pumping, and beating, and driving the O2 rich blood pounding through every vessel in his body just as fast as Yohan is able to breathe it in.
To his right, Usain’s eyes are closed in a meditative state. They were both raised in the same small village, and grew up enjoying the simple things in life such as fresh linens to sooth their weary bodies, or a cool glass of water on a sweltering day. And the two had trained, bled, ate, and struggled together as they battled under the hot sun of their Jamaican homeland in preparation of this moment. But here and now, they were both prepared to kill each other for the glory of gold; unspoken, yet understood.
And as Yohan squinted his eyes, he could peer exactly 100 meters ahead to his destination. 100 hundred meters bathed in the illumination of the massive floodlights, and spectated by millions around the globe. 100 meters to give meaning to all he had worked for. It was time, as the speakers behind him bellowed out, “TAKE YOUR MARKS…”
But for a moment so significant in his life, it was just like the hundreds of other races he had accumulated in his history. And as he had done so many times before, the starter’s gun sent Yohan’s massive legs exploding off the block like two hydraulic pistons as he pumped them with such force that they were driven deep into the earth with such magnitude that the planet’s rotation was seemingly altered, if only but an inch. And with each stride, he swung his arms forward with great power and purpose like a great pendulum on an old grandfather clock counting down the precious few seconds he had remaining to overtake his compatriot. For Usain had begun to pull away from the pack, and for him there would be no looking back as he took the gold in the men’s 100 meter. It was his destiny from the beginning, and everyone knew it.
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