HPA and GSMS Grade Eight LA
Exemplars 10 and 11
I can't help but think the lights are literally going to blind me, as I squint at the audience as if they were the sun. Focus, pay attention I tell myself just as the last few notes are drawn out for what seems like an eternity. My thoughts start to drift again, to water, to the flowers after the show, to Christmas. I'm brought back into the present like a slap to the face, well, technically the slap of hands I realize as the audience claps. It's over. I get up clumsily, as if part of my legs are missing, slowly placing one foot behind the other and curtsying. My long, almost metallic pink skirt catches on my tights as my legs straighten and for a moment I lose my balance. Silently, I pray that no one saw. This is not going well.
“Half way done” I think, “Almost finished, and then I can get away from the eyes that are tracking my every move, assessing, judging”. My brain starts playing a reel of all the possible things that could go wrong and I close my eyes, forcing the terrible images out of my mind. I can do this, I can do this, I can't do this. A drip of sweat slides down the back of my neck as I breath in and out, fighting for a steady rhythm. My legs start to move before I tell them to, carrying me to the upstage right corner of the stage to prepare me for my solo. Positioning my arms and legs where they should be, I look out at the lights-where I know the audience is-and plaster the biggest smile on my face I can muster. My arms tingle from sudden blood flow or from anticipation, I can't tell, and wait for my music to start. The first note rings out in the small auditorium and my nightmare begins.
Race day
The nerves kicked in the second I laced up my sneakers. We had arrived with plenty of time to warm up on that crisp fall day. Just keep moving, my mom would say, which seemed to be the only thing I could hear even though my mind was only thinking about the race.
Finally they called the runners to the start line. I was hit by the cold air when I took off my jacket. Last minute glances to the other runners by my sides then, on your mark, get set and the blast of the high pitched air horn, followed by a stampede of runners. I found myself in the front of the pack with two others, looking at my watch constantly, knowing the perfect calculations for success. With the brisk air coming off the river, my legs started to stiffen but stopping was not a possibility and running was the only option. Finally I hit the turnaround point knowing my legs would be relieved with the soft downhill to the finish. Even though the leader of the pack was ahead of me, I found myself in a solid second place. I tried to take in the beautiful view of the river but I still had to focus on my race.
The next thing I knew the cheers of the final stretch were starting, my breath was getting shorter and the blood was rushing through my veins. I was pushing myself to my limits but the encouraging voice were guiding me to the finish. With a simple glance up at the rectangular shaped timer I felt a rush of satisfaction and achievement. I had surpassed my goal time and my pride swelled with the final stride.