Tilebury

She starts running, slow loping steps initially just to get the muscles moving and the blood coursing. She runs tall and springy with her arms pushing high by her sides. Around her the shouting and noise fades and she hears her pulse and the inhalation of air.

She becomes a machine running smoothly, well within its capabilities. Pistons gliding in oiled chambers and connected cogs and levers distributing power throughout the system.

Her feet go down harder and her chest dips forward into the automatic shape of speed. She feels a breeze wicking away the warmth of her heating muscles and senses their flexibility. Her wide eyes see only the straight path ahead and her ears hear only the perfect tune of her movements chiming in unison.

At speed she is tearing over the ground, like a jet down the runway. She is light, unstoppable and rising into the air, her body gracefully wrapping her legs beneath her and twisting sinuously as she flies forward and floats gently down reaching out with pointed toes and long legs stretching.

Crashing into the sand where the crowd's screams burst in and her body's momentum carries her on into long jump pit.