Track is a unique sport. I mean, what other sport lets you get points for jumping into a sandbox, throwing a really heavy frisbee, or passing around a metal tube as fast as you can? It's often an individual effort that puts your team on top, and what's something that someone with social anxiety hates? Being put on the spot, especially in a public setting with tons of people there: a track meet.

Practice is one thing; you get to work on your jumping and running forms with your teammates--the people you have grown to feel comfortable around--day-after-day. There isn't any judgement being passed; there are high fives, fist bumps, overly elaborate handshakes and inside jokes. You can get your practice in comfortably and chat about how much you hate that you forgot to wear compression shorts the one day we have to go into the sand-pit.

Meet day gets closer and everyone starts focusing in. Jokes are less frequent, handshakes get simpler and the topic of conversation turns to everyone's competition this weekend.

Then it starts--how good is my opponent this week? How stupid am I going to look against these guys? They're huge. Their personal bests are two seconds faster and their jumps are four feet further than any of mine. Even if I push myself to the limit it won't be enough.

It won't be enough.

Meet day comes, and the whole bus ride to the track those thoughts linger in your head no matter how much gangsta' rap you blast in your headphones. You show up to the jumping pit and, of course, everyone is sizing up each other. This isn't even the worst part. The worst part is they're looking at you. Even if they aren't actually, they are in your head. Every pair of eyes is looking at you, and you suddenly become hyper aware of how you walk, how you warm up, even how you breathe.

Then it's your turn to jump, and now they really are looking at you. Why wouldn't they be? Everyone goes one at a time. Everything goes blank. All your training--mentally and physically-- go out the window. You go numb except for the feeling of 50 pairs of eyes piercing your skin. You start to tense up, your muscles don't want to move, and you're paralyzed with every sort of fear that exists.

You make your way down the runway toward the pit, and each step feels like you're carrying cinder blocks on your ankles. You finally reach the end and take off. This is where your mind turns off; but only for a moment. Then your body crumbles with exhaustion into the sand and the panicking floods back into your thoughts.

If only it ended there. Now come the thoughts of "Everyone is laughing at that jump". You see two teammates giggling near the pit chatting with smiles. They must be talking about you.

The only solace you can get is getting back on the bus knowing that the eyes that watched your flaws are the eyes that came in second, behind you.