I mean...I didn’t know we could write poetry on here too but we can so now I'm excited. I wonder whether any of you have read Love That Dog by Sharon Creech (if you haven't, I recommend, it's an easy read and it's ok for all ages, I studied it in year 5). Anyway, it has a really lovely storyline made up entirely of poetry where a young boy slowly but surely opens up.

Anyway, enough rambling. I'll start small, and I'm excited to see where it might go.

What's the point

Of getting up

Trying again

When the start line in itself

Was your stumbling block?

Is there any point

Really?

Of looking at your grazed knees

Red and bloody from the gravel

And deciding to do it all over again?

My knee, bloody and grazed

matches my heart, wounded and torn.

Other kids rolling their eyes and laughing,

Other kids' parents uncomfortably averting their gazes.

The judges calling the next round, ignoring my hurricane of feelings.

I lift my gaze and realize that the tired old story is that I either leave and quit,

like the underdog usually does,

or that I get up triumphantly walk with my head high back to the starting line

and win a dazzling victory,

and personify the quiet, unathletic kid who snags the trophy!

But those are not my stories.

No more walking away for me.

I reject that path and decide that I am not a reincarnation of some stereotypical "The Breakfast Club" character.

I am writing my own story.

Walk back and win a dazzling victory?

Wish that could happen, but....nope. Not realistic today.

Yeah this is my story.

I get up walk to the hydration station.

Water bottle guzzled. Splash the dirt off my knees.

"Mr. Cool" approached me with two of his buddies.

"Bomb face plant, genius!" All three laugh.

I am writing this story. I am not a victim.

"Yeah, that was insane. Me and the weights at the gym are going to be spending some quality time together."

They just burst out laughing again.

But then....

It sparks a conversation.

It's my story.

I'll share what I want. I can laugh too. I can laugh at myself a little bit. I can throw back my own snarky comments.

Am I going back to that starting line?

Holy moly! I have no idea.

Today was pretty lousy out there.

But this is my story.

And I just may go back to that starting line.

On my terms.

With my head held high.