"Quinn, you're the two-time champion. You have the course record. You got this."
"Quinn, this is all yours. Just go out and take it!"
"Just relax, honey. Get to the front, settle in, and do your thing."
"Q-Baby lets GOOOO! Get the three-peat!"
"Nobody is stopping you today, Quinn. No-one is as fit as you are. Nobody trained as hard as you did. You already have this."
"Run like the wind, baby girl!"

All of the pep-talks, shouts of encouragement and slaps on the back started to run together. The only thing I could focus on was the slow ticking of my watch as I impatiently waited for noon to arrive. I kept glancing up at the huge timer by the starting line to make sure it wasn't malfunctioning. I was sure the race had to be closer than 20 minutes away. I was warmed up, hydrated and ready. I just needed to get on the line before I lost my nerve.

On paper, I knew I was the best. I knew the cross-country course like the back of my hand. I had won states as a freshman, then came back sophomore year not only to win it again but also to break the twenty-year-old course record. I was fit and ready.

I knew all of this, yet for the first time I was going into a State Championship race with fear rather than excitement. With each win over the last two years, the target on my back had grown bigger. I couldn't pinpoint exactly when the change occurred, but sometime over the last year or so I started looking back and worrying about the runners behind me instead of chasing the records in front of me. Even though I had trained harder than ever that season, I was barely hitting my times from previous years. My rivals were getting a little too close for comfort.

I had to get it done this race. This was my junior year, the year that college coaches start paying attention. This was the year that would make or break my chances of continuing my career past high school. I wasn't the freshman phenom anymore, shocking Ohio with young talent and miraculous victories. No, I was a junior now. People expected me to win. My coaches expected it. My parents expected it. My teammates expected it. Whoever makes those dumb announcements over the loudspeaker at school expected it. I had to win.

"Varisty Girls, five minutes to the gun!"

I snapped out of my train of thought and jogged down to the starting line with my team. The waiting was finally over. That was the worst of it. This part, I could do. Everything from here was completely routine. Five stride-outs, team cheer, strip down to my uniform, do a few last minute stretches and toe the line.

"One-minute!"

As I took my place on the line, I quickly glanced left and right at my competition, reminding myself that I was better than all of them. There was that girl from Western Ohio who was kind of good and a couple girls from Columbus who occasionally made me work a little bit but nobody else could even touch me.

"Runners, to your mark!"

My heart was pounding, my left hand was shaking every few seconds and my stomach was knotted beyond belief, but I was ready. Five thousand meters. 3.1 miles. It was my time to shine.

"Bang!"

As soon as the gun sounded I sprinted to the front, not wasting any time in asserting my intention to win. I settled into my pace with a few other girls who were brave enough to start out with me. The first mile went by smoothly. 5:40, right on target. Not too fast, not too slow. I still had five or so girls hanging with me, but the second mile always sent them fading to the back. I started to push the pace and sure enough, by the time mile marker two came around, I was running alone. All I had to do was finish strong and I would have a third state title under my belt. Even more than the state title, I couldn't wait for the relief that would come with the win.

I knew I was close to the finish, with maybe 600 meters to go. I could feel my heart racing, my breathing was labored and I felt fire running up and down my legs. I didn't care about the pain. Up one more hill and around one more turn and I would be able to see the finish line.

I was so consumed with finishing that I didn't even realize someone was catching up until a tiny pair of legs attached to horrifyingly pink racing spikes were matching me stride for stride. I nearly had a heart attack on the spot, but thankfully my racing instincts kicked in. I picked up the pace and started my finishing kick, hoping to drop her, but every move I made she matched with one of her own. I knew I was approaching my limit. Nobody had pushed me like this in a long time. I didn't even know how fast I was running anymore because I couldn't feel my legs underneath me. The crowd along the finishing straight was roaring. It all blended into one wall of noise. We were 200 meters from the finish. Dead even. 100 meters - she gained a half step on me. 50 meters - a full step. 10 meters out - I threw in one last ditch lean, but it was over. I had lost. A nobody who I had never seen or even heard of before had beaten me.

I staggered through the finishing chute, exhausted, delirious, and dehydrated. Before the heartbreak of the loss had time to set in, the only thought running through my head was "who the hell was that?"