I don’t know if they timed this year’s Best Young Fliers Competition to be the same day as the fiftieth anniversary of my first rainboom or not. There’s been no official announcement, but c’mon, it’s a crazy big coincidence if it is a coincidence. Maybe it wasn’t going to be, but somepony on the planning committee snuck it in. If so, thanks. It doesn’t matter that much, but thanks anyway.

Not bad, 3, although you could be better. Kinda rote, but at least you were flawlessly rote. Six.

Fifty years. Sweet Celestia and Luna and all the others, I’m old. It doesn’t really feel fair. I’m Rainbow Dash, I’m not supposed to get old. But here I am, and I’m old. I’m even being ornery about being old. At least I’m the cool, active kind of old with awesome stories, not the sit-around-doing-nothing kind. Still, I’m way slower than I used to be, and seeing some of the acrobatics these kids pull off that I can’t… Yeah, I’m definitely old.

The worst part about getting old is me slowing down. My wings start aching faster, I can’t flap them as well as I could, and rainbooming takes a lot more outta me than it used to. And it’s not even just for me anymore; almost a dozen others have done it. The other records I set are being broken, too. Fastest flier. Fastest zero to a hundred speed. That sorta thing. Kinda disappointing; I didn’t set those records to let others waltz up and break them. At least it took decades for them to be broken.

Ooo. Nice corkscrew, 4, and you nailed the Immelmare. Coulda had a bit more flair, but still. Eight.

I don’t hold any grudges for other pegasi breaking my records, mind you. Used to, but not anymore. Yeah, I’d like to be the fastest flier in Equestria, but if somepony else can faster, why should I stop them? I’m not going to be around forever (sadly), but someone’s got to fill my shoes if they’re mare enough. So if they break one and I’m available, I congratulate them. They’ve earned it, after all. Anypony who can beat me has got to be pretty awesome. And at least most of them are geeked about meeting me (and who wouldn’t be?), so it’s not like they’re going, “Ha! In your face, loooooser!” Usually.

I still remember the second pony to rainboom. Clear Blue. (Although her coat was khaki, weirdly enough.) It was at some charity event for disaster relief from a badly mishandled storm, like ten years after my second rainboom. She was an accountant, believe it or not, but she liked to push herself for the thrill and the adrenaline rush of speed, and she kept trying to go faster and faster and faster just because. She was in a ten-mile race, she really started winging it on the last stretch, and… poof.

Leave it, 5. You can’t do a pylon turn as tightly as I think you’re doing, you’re gonna bla-

At least you know when to back down. But you tried to do something you couldn’t do in the first place, and it did not look good. Yeegh. Three.

Clear didn’t know what she’d done once she crossed the finish line. Just that everypony was cheering way more loudly than they should have. When she learned what she’d done, you just couldn’t get her to shut up about it. She was squeeing for the rest of the whole thing. I tried to congratulate her, and I swear she was going to break the lenses in her glasses with that excited scream. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Of course, I’m one to talk. Omigoshomigoshomigoshomigoshomigoshomigoshomigosh!

It was a while before Clear could do it again. But soon, she wasn’t the only one to do it. There was Nimba, then Windfall, then Streamer. I stopped keeping track after that. More and more just kept popping up who could do it. It’s still pretty rare, but it’s not my thing and mine alone anymore. Kinda funny, looking at the pegasi who can rainboom and thinking it was just an old mare’s tale once upon a time.

Got an eye for showmareship, 6. Those loops would’ve been boring if you hadn’t been barrel rolling the entire time. One of the those simple-but-tricky things. Nine.

I did some research a few moons back. (Yeah, me. Doing research. Can you imagine?) A little over a hundred years ago, flying a mile in six seconds — nowhere near fast enough to rainboom — was thought to be impossible. Not just crazy hard, physically impossible. The six-second barrier. Your heart would give out, or your tendons would rip away from your wings, or something weird like that. Ponies have their limits, and a six-second mile was one of them. It was absolutely impossible.

Then Bannistrot went and flew a mile in 5.97 seconds.

And now? Plenty of ponies fly six-second miles. Even the best high-schoolers can do it. It’s not an impossible goal for the greatest, it’s standard. Oh, it’s still hard. Don’t get me wrong. A six-second mile is hard. Really hard. It’s just not impossible. It’s like, once it was proved to be doable, everypony and their mom wanted to take a crack at it.

Heh. Nice tailslide, 7, and you went right int-

…How did you do that? How did you do that? Even I had trouble handling those g’s on my best days! You barely even look woozy! Okay, kid, if you don’t win, I, I don’t know what I’ll do. Eleven. Absofrigginglutely you deserve it. I’m gonna keep an eye on you.

After Bannistrot, the time for the mile kept dropping and dropping. The next impossible record? Breaking the sound barrier. Approach it but don’t break it fast enough, and it snaps back, bonks you in the face, and sends you flying. Actually break it, and… That’s what the arcanists tried to figure out. The rainboom itself has something to do with natural magic and air reacting somehow from getting compressed too far and all that boring stuff Twilight loves.

So now that was impossible. The rainboom was completely hypothetical. A sort of “What if this could happen? Even though it can’t.” thing. Ponies kept getting faster, but breaking the sound barrier was always out of reach. Then I came along, and absolute awesomeness ensued. Who do you think you are, scientists, to tell me how fast I can go? I’m the one and only, the indomitable, inimitable Rainbow Dash! I’ll go as fast as I want, thankyouverymuch!

Not anymore, I guess. I’m too old for that. But, hey, it was fun while it lasted.

Those’re some graceful cartwheels, 8. How’re you not dizzy? I swear I can feel my cloud tilting just from looking at you. Nine.

After a while, other ponies started doing the impossible and did their own rainbooms. My guess? More and more will start doing it as I get older. The idea that a rainboom was out of the reach of any pony now seems hilarious. That’s ponies for you, I guess. You tell them something’s impossible, and someone out there will look at it and go, “Challenge accepted.”

Of course, somepony had to open up the floodgates to show it was possible and let everypony else do it. And who do you think it was? Hint: not Fluttershy.

Y’know, I think I like it better this way. I’m not the fastest anymore. I’ll never be the fastest again. But those ponies breaking my records? They’ll only be remembered until the next pony comes along and breaks their record. Me? I’ll be forever remembered as the first pony to do it. They may do a rainboom faster, but I did it first.

Lots of ponies can break records, but only one can set the record to begin with. I am, I always will be, that one pony. And you know what? That’s pretty awesome.