I ran track for just one year of high school. I loved the sprints — fast and furious and done in a jiff, that was me. No cross country running for me, thank you very much. I also ran a couple of relay events and those were something.

There was a high octane quality to the hundred yard dash. The starting gun went off and you either got to winning or got to losing, there wasn’t much in between with a race that short. Heart thundering in your chest, sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was the surge of adrenaline or stress over performance that was driving the experience. I will say if the start of the hundred yard dash felt like fireworks then the actual baton handoff during a relay race felt like being blown apart on a high rise building while the crowd screamed at the sight.

There was so much to think about. Don’t start running too early or you’ll outpace the passing zone but don’t start too late or you’ll add time to the team. And always — ALWAYS — there was the running mantra shrieking through my brain: don’t drop the baton don’t drop the baton DON’T DROP THE BATON FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

It was a stressful sport for me. Or maybe I was just stressed about competition in general, I don’t know. I do know watching them run relays at the Olympics still gives me anxiety until I see that baton pass safely hand to hand.

Linda hosts Stream of Consciousness Saturday. This week’s prompt is “hand.” Use it as a noun, use it as a verb, use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!