The Race

Waiting in the starting area, everyone was dressed in brightly coloured blue or pink or yellow, with neon running shoes. Some runners were leaning slowly on random objects, while others were performing their own silly dances. The man to the left of me had a serious frown while he was having a hard time with the touchscreen on his watch. He was blasting rock music so loud I could hear the drum line and guitar solo. There was a group to my right who were casually sipping water between conversations about what they wanted to order from the fancy restaurant they planned to go to after.

As the giant red clock counted down, my stomach grumbled but I couldn’t bring myself to eat anymore. THIRTY SECONDS, my mouth felt dry like sandpaper, despite me drinking like a camel ten minutes earlier. I shook my feet to keep my legs from falling dead asleep. TEN SECONDS, the safety pins I used to hang the number on my shirt were starting to bother me, and I fought the urge to scratch them. FIVE SECONDS, I felt my lungs expand to twice the size as I inhaled. The buzzer sounded, and I turned left to wish the man good luck before I put my headphones in. I blinked, he was already blazing off ten yards ahead of me.