So here I was, seventeen years old, at the Queens Park Stadium. All six feet seven inches, one hundred and twenty pounds of pure bone and muscle, well more bone than muscle. It was the Wesley College track meet, and yours truly was about to blaze they asses up in a hundred meter dash. I was looking good doing my warm ups I tell you. Sprinting in place, me knees up high, me arms pumping, you would have thought that you were watching one of them runners at the Olympics or something. The starter yelled “Take all you marks!” I jogged over to the blocks, emphasizing every movement I made, I mean I was prancing real graceful, like a gazelle and thing. When I got to the blocks, I shook me legs, then I shook me arms, just like I saw the runners and them do at the World Championships. The starter ordered us to take we marks. I went down on one knee, “On your mmaaarrrkk, ready,” then the pop of the starter’s gun. Oh yes, I took off, me legs pumping, me arms pumping, I mean it was perfect form. By the twenty five meter mark I could feel that I was all alone, I must have left them boys and them in the dust. Me heart was racing, me whole body was hot, oh yes, I was busting they asses. By the fifty meter mark, out of the corner of me eyes, I saw the crowd whizzing by, good I was still alone, hell they did not call me bionic boy for nothing damn it. By the fifty meter mark a strong headwind hit me and I felt like I was floating, I gritted me teeth and pumped me legs, ohhh yes, I was still alone, way ahead of the pack. By the seventy meter mark I head the laughter, so I looked ahead of me, damn it, all the shorter kids were at the ninety five meter mark. Oh hell looks like I was getting me ass embarrassed. By the time I got to the finish line, the shorter kids were already walking to the pavilion. I dropped to the ground, me legs burning, me heart racing, me face red with exhaustion, or was it shame. That was the last time I ever ran a hundred meter dash, I was never going to let the shorter kids shame me like that.