After three years of waiting.
After three years of intensive training.
After three years of sheer pain and sweat.
7th December 2007 -- the day I compete against myself.
As number '67' ran pass the Finish line.
His heart stopped.
The time around him simply froze to subzero.
Loud yells and supporting cheers fell into the background.
The decibels dropped, turning silent, turning still.
Every drop of sweat that trickle down my forehead.
Every bit of carbohydrate burning to feed my pumping muscles.
Every single moment of the rigourous training I have yet to forgot.
Everything collapsed, disintegrated into tiny specks of sparkling dust.
That rapidly vanquished into the atmosphere like light rays escaping into a black hole.
The dark sky.
The wet track.
The shiny spotlights.
The tickling stopclock.
Out of breath.
Out of it.
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