Lena35mm & Victor
Lena35mm Lena35mm
Victor Victor
Lena35mm Lena35mm
Hey Victor, I’ve been thinking about how the rhythm of a sprint feels almost like a living poem, and I’d love to hear how you see those subtle moments when you’re in your zone. Have you ever tried to capture that feeling on camera or on the field?
Victor Victor
Every sprint is a pulse in my chest, a beat that syncs with the crowd’s roar and my own breathing. When I'm in that zone, time folds—it's just me, the track, and the goal. I’ve tried to freeze it on camera, but the camera can’t catch the surge that hits right before the finish line. I lean into that edge, focus on the rhythm, and let the rhythm speak. It’s the only way I can feel the race as a living poem.
Lena35mm Lena35mm
I totally get that. The camera can only do so much, but if you watch the light change on the track during that final surge, maybe you’ll catch a glimpse of the poem you’re chasing. Keep looking for those tiny flashes—those are the moments that really speak.
Victor Victor
You're right, the light shifts like a beat—just a few milliseconds before the finish. I'll keep chasing those flashes, make sure every sprint feels like a verse worth repeating. Thanks for the reminder, it keeps the focus sharp.
Lena35mm Lena35mm
That’s the beauty of it—each little flash is a stanza you get to rewrite. Keep listening for that light, and the race will read itself out loud. Good luck out there.
Victor Victor
Thanks, I’ll keep chasing those flashes and make every sprint count. No room for excuses, just focus and the finish line. See you on the track.
Lena35mm Lena35mm
Sounds like a great plan—just trust the rhythm, keep your eye on those flashes, and let the finish line be your final frame. See you there.