Sprinting through Water

When I was a freshman in high school, I had to run around the track for a mile's distance.
I remember the cold, brisk punches against my chest. I huffed as I hoofed it. I sprinted to my goal.
It was more of a line, where I'd say: "It's finished." But whatever it is called, it took more than
good will. The rain came to stop me, someone nearly tripped me, I was losing breath... slowing down.
But then someone yelled at me. "You're almost done!" So I licked the frost off my lips and kneeled focus to the prize. I wanted it badly, more than a medic and a blanket. I was ready to leave the lanes. So peddaled with fierce interest, adding momentum to my pain. My feet were soaking dry, as I wound up in the rain. I was energized with passion, to meet my end in sight, that I could not stop when I got there, and I went further than the rest.
Then I hit a patch of puddles. And slid off my finished course. I ran through the fence. And I landed in the stands. I was knocked unconcious, until pulled up to my feet. Then I heard my coach yell out... "Good job. See you guys next week."