Joey looked back. He knew he shouldn’t. His coaches told him he shouldn’t. But he did. Again. The last 400-meter race he ran, he stumbled. Just a little. But enough to get caught. Enough to lose the top spot on the podium. This time was different. This time, Joey tripped and fell. And fell. And fell. He hit the ground with a thump. He was sweating profusely. He was on the ground, but nobody was speeding past him. Nobody was yelling at him to get up. Joey exhaled a sigh of relief. It was only a dream.

Joey worked hard in practice every day. He knew his arch nemesis, Calvin, was working hard. In fact, Joey only ever looked back in races when he was racing against Calvin. No other runner ever beat Joey. He and Calvin were always neck and neck since they were kids. Which is where he had learned to look back. Oh, his youth coaches told him not to look back. His parents told him not to look back. But he still did it. He still looked back against Calvin.

Joey kept looking back all season against Calvin. Sometimes he paid for it. Sometimes he did not. And then all of a sudden, it was the championship season. Joey knew that he had to finish high enough in the races to continue to move on to the next week. “Survive to race another day,” as his coach always said.

It was the next to last week of the season. It was a two-day meet. He had to race well on the first day to make it to the second day. Or his season would be through for the year. For his career.

Joey was in the preliminary race against Calvin. Calvin was in the fourth lane. Joey was in the fifth. The fastest two lanes in a seeded race. If Joey had been in the fourth lane, he would not have looked over in the homestretch. After all, he would probably have been behind Calvin at the end of the last turn. He would have had him in his sights. But there was no use lamenting the way things were.

Joey was ahead of Calvin coming out of the last turn, as it should be when the racers are so close in their times. Joey was disciplined for most of the homestretch. Then he looked over his left shoulder. And then he tripped. Not enough to fall, but enough to lose two places in the race. He ended up being fourth. He hung his head. He thought he was done. His time was was slower than what five of the runners in the second heat had run before. Somebody would need to have a bad race for Joey to move on. And Joey would never cheer for somebody to do poorly. Every time he won, he wanted his competition to have their best performance. He wanted to compete against the best. He wanted the second heat racers to be their best.

Joey heard the gun for the second heat, but he did not look up. If somebody had seen him, they might have thought he was praying that somebody would mess up, but he just could not watch the race that would end his career.

* Joey’s coach came over after the second heat ended. He put his hand around his runner’s shoulder. Joey thought he was giving him condolences for the end of his career. He could hear his coach’s words before he said them. “It’s been a great four years. You have always given me your best.” But Joey knew he hadn’t. Joey knew he was not his best when he raced against Calvin. “Hey, Joey.” Joey looked over at his coach. “Hey, Coach.” “I hope you’re done feeling sorry for yourself…” Joey looked down at his feet. He did not say anything. “…because you need to get ready for the finals tomorrow.” Joey looked at his coach again. “Yep. Lane 1. So you don’t need to look behind you at all.” He gave Joey a wry smile. Then he stood and walked to coach his other athletes. *

Joey had not run from lane 1 for a long time. Maybe since he was fourteen. He would have been seething had it happened earlier in his career, but he was smiling as he set himself up in the blocks for the start.

The gun went off. Joey flew threw the first turn. He knew his competition was in front of him and to his right, but he did not look. He just ran his race. He felt smooth down the backstretch and into the final turn. He felt himself lean harder in the turn than he had for a long time. It felt great. He would have smiled, but he kept his whole body loose except for the muscles he needed to run. Smiling would come later.

Joey came out of the turn on fire. He saw nothing except the end of the homestretch. He was laser-focused. Nothing existed except the lane in front of him and the line at the end of that lane. He crossed the line and still never looked at the other athletes. He looked up and breathed. And he smiled. He did not know exactly where he finished, but knew he finished high enough to move on. To race another day. More importantly though, he knew he would never have to look behind him or beside him again.