Summery: a moment, a second, a heartbeat
There is a moment, when your feet leave the ground and your head arches back, where everything is silence. You don't hear the crowd or the wind, and the sky is a blur above you. A bare second. A heartbeat.
For a moment, you can fly.
On the soccer field, the ball blurs. You don't want to be where the ball is kicked, you want to be where it will land. You have to see it before it moves - a streak of gray behind your eyelids. Don't blink. Don't look. Feel it. The wind curves as your spine does, and in the next breath, you have moved past where the ball is, to where it will be.
For a second, you can see.
In a sprint, you can't breathe. Your heart hammers in your chest and in your ears and all you know is the hammer of your feet on the ground. Your hands push through the air like knives, and your lungs expand.
For a heartbeat, you are the wind.