Eight Seconds - 1. Eight Seconds

Before

Excitement. But you feel petrified. Exhilarated, knowing that the future is, one way or the other, going to change your world. A friend slaps you on the shoulder; you tense up, and then remember to breathe again. You sit there, trying to feel comfortable, trying to stop your hands from sweating, wishing your jeans weren’t so tight. Everything hangs in the balance, everything. And like a man waiting for the axe to fall, you don’t want the next moment to start, but you can’t stay in limbo. The moment is right, everything is perfect, and you know you need to commit. You nod.

One

And there you are, bam, right in the beginning of a new relationship. Just you and this other guy, knowing your time together is limited, knowing you need to make everything count in the here and now because the future isn’t guaranteed at all. Everything is tense, every muscle on edge, and your heart is going a thousand miles an hour. You barely dare to breathe, to move, to even think about anything else because everything is right now. There is no past, you can’t even remember what came before, or wonder about what might happen next, because there is nothing but the now.

Two

Now it’s time to move, for both of you. He tests you, works out where your limits are. Like two dogs circling; sizing each other up. Nostrils flaring, eyes blazing in a jumble of mad emotions. You can’t think about what to do with your hands, though you need to, and your thighs are so tense your muscles feel like steel. He is all coiled like a spring, ready to catapult you into the stratosphere, suddenly wanting to be rid of you and gone.

Three

You’ve worked each other out, figured out what goes on in that head of his, discovered what all those looks mean, analysed the body language. Now you both want to push each other, drive each other crazy with what you want. You wanna win, so does he, so you push against each other, trying to find a middle ground that works for you both. He’s stronger, you’re more determined, and it goes on.

Four

Halfway, and the sweat starts. Shirt wet, chest tight, heart hammering away like some kind of massive broken steam engine. It’s impossible to draw breath now, to even find your other hand, remember where you left your head. Belt buckle digs in painfully, and you wish you hadn’t worn it. Both of you are soaked, both of you are full of fire and totally exhausted, knowing you have to go on, knowing that it’s far from being over.

Five

Now you feel it, the imbalance, and the impending doom. You’re tired from fighting; you want it to be over, to be done. But you can’t. You can’t leave him victorious. It takes everything you have to stay there, to keep holding on to something you now know is broken. There is still only the here and now, and it’s not possible to think about it all ending so soon. You want to keep going, because it’s so good, so beautiful, and so perfect when you’re together. It’s all going to come crashing down around you, but for now, you’ll do anything just to stay in the moment, immortalised together in some photograph.

Six

The fights get worse, every time he comes closer to knocking you down. Each time you connect you get closer to losing grip altogether. Everything hurts, every muscle burns. You’re both totally soaked, sweat pours off you. You wish you were anywhere else but here. Nothing could be worse than this, but you know if you push, you’ll both get through this, you’ll both live, and you could be happy in the end. Hanging on for dear life is painful, but letting go will be worse, letting go would mean to crash and burn. This could be such a beautiful thing you’re doing together, you keep doing it. Keep your head, keep your balance, and hold on.

Seven

The table tilts, and you can taste the idea of victory. You’re still there: together, joined, bound, tied up tight with no space in between to even fit a piece of paper. Now you’ve found your balance, you feel weirdly calm and confident, like it’s all going to be OK. Then everything shifts, and he could be in winning position again, the power balance tips and turns like a spinning plate coming to its final stop. You hang on with everything you’ve got, knowing that if you could both hold out a little longer, then what was great could be magical. You can think of how far you’ve come, how much you’ve been through together, every push and shove; it might have all been worth it.

Eight

Ecstasy, completion, climax; the moment you’ve both been waiting for. You’re done.

Afterwards

Time to hit the sand, get up, get running. Time to hope and pray all that anger isn’t directed your way now it’s all over. You’ve done it, escaped, and done something amazing. He turns to look at you, one last long stare, and there’s no anger now, only respect and a little bit of love mixed in with resentment. Just like the first time, there is no going back now, and you nod before he shakes himself and leaves. Sensation comes rushing back like water from a fire hydrant, and there is a scary moment when you found you had forgotten how loud the world was. All you’ve heard is your heartbeat, his heartbeat, all you’ve felt is the tension between the two of you, but now it’s all there, and you’re stripped bare your senses, laid out and broken.

But victorious. All this happens in an instant, and then you’re up on feet properly, hollering out your pride, waving your hat around in the air. A moment which lasts a life time, the moment where everything can change, but you did it, you fought and won and lasted long enough to make the world scream your name.

These are the hardest eight seconds in sport.