1. 3 Feet Left
By Matt Marcinick
“Come on push it. You’ve got it. There we go.” yells my track coach. The bar clangs off
of the rack as I secure it. 205 pounds of dead weight sits on the rack after it sent pain all across
my upper torso. It was no regular year, it was my senior season on the track team and I had to
have some success, at last.
In track I was never the fastest man on the team, so I was designated to throwing the shot
put and discus. I showed a knack for throwing the discus well since the age of thirteen. I could
throw that rubber or metal disc farther than anyone on the team. The only problem was that I was
always coming up just short of competing with the best.
In the first few years of high school I was a varsity golf team member in the fall, but after
that winter brought indoor practices for the indoor track team. They did not compete in my
beloved discus on the indoor track team, but I still got technical work in and lifting as I competed
in shot put. I could feel myself growing stronger and I was fully prepared for the outdoor track
season.
March gives way to April and everything begins to show signs of life. The sun finally
peaks out and my senior track season gets underway. I had been waiting all year to capitalize on
the minor successes that I accomplished last season.
As a junior I had competed against many seniors in the major meets. I surprisingly held
my own gaining a second place medal at the conference meet, two first place finishes at major
invitationals, and nearly made it to the regional meet, finishing thee spots from qualifying.
I continued to lift and practice every day and achieve my goal of competing at the state
track meet at The Ohio State University. It was my dream as a freshman and all of my hard work
was working toward this goal.

2. April became May and I was running roughshod over our new conference. I was placing
first at nearly every meet and the taste of victory had never been so sweet. All of my hard work
was finally paying off.
The Conference championships came and I took home the Gold with a throw of 136 feet
11inches. No one came within 10 feet of me. I was on cloud nine. I had become the happiest man
alive, but I had to temper my excitement because there was work to be done. However, I made
the mistake of not continuing to work hard.
The district meet was the next obstacle. There were guys there that I had not seen since
last year. They were much improved, but I had to beat them. I tossed my initial three throws; the
second toss got me into the finals. In the finals we lose our previous throws and get three more.
Once again my second toss was the longest and I qualified for regionals.
The regional was a meet I had never been to before. The grass seemed so much greener.
The air was sweet with the smell of flowers and I was one step away from my goal.
We got four throws that day. I stepped in the circle and let my first two fly. “Foul” cried
the judge as my foot left the circle. The second throw had the same result. I was down to my final
two attempts. I had to get these last two to count. I started second guessing myself. Was this the
best I’ve got?
I got back into the ring and just let it rip. I kept it in bounds and stayed in the circle this
time, but the throw was short. “124 feet, 4 inches” bellowed the judge. I was more than 20 feet
short of qualifying. It all came down to my last throw.
The last one felt great as it left my hand. Had I finally done it? It all depended on where it
landed. I closed my eyes. “Foul” cried the ref. I opened my eyes in disbelief. My disc was lying
out in the field 3 feet left of the left boundary line. My heart sank. I came up just a little short.
My lack of work and progress through those last few weeks caught up with me in the end.
I guess I wasn’t meant to go to state, but I will never make the same mistake again. I learned my
lesson; never rest, never give up, or you just might end up 3 feet left.