200 Meters

Spent and disheartened, I ache all over. My muscles tighten, my legs continue to push me forward.

Running the last 200 meters of my race—it feels near to impossible. Crimson and white line blur my vision.

Coming up, I have 100 meters to go.  The jersey next to me is hammering down my back. An orange legged triathlete passes me.

No! No! No!

Heaving and tearing in my eyes, I push the last 50 meters.

Breathe tries to fill my lungs. Oh my goodness... What is air?

30...20...10

Maroon and green jerseys storm my periphery. I'm almost there.

Kicking those last 5 meters,  I cross the finish. Finally!

Breathe tries to fill my lungs. Oh my goodness... What is air?

Second, yes second feels so good! My muscles are tight. My legs jelly.

But it's oh so cathartic. Yes! Yes! Yes! Districts here I come.

Panting and dancing, I raise my arms in victory! Finally!