Quickness of the feet, a true miracle at hand.
Rush of air felt by standbyers, adrenaline of the race.
Why then do I feel incomplete in running this direction?
Yet, how can I tell which direction is forward and which is back?
How would I know the true direction I am meant for?
I may look at the racers, but I always trust in their deception and trickery.
I may look to the standbyers, but they are merely watching.
And then, maybe, I will decide that direction does not matter.
Forward, though, must be a constant for if I look back, I shall surely lose the race.
Trust myself, that my direction is correct and continue with full force.
The finish line is always there, no matter how I run the track.