Runners

Have you ever read those post on Facebook and thought it would be interesting from a different point of view?  I did.  I rewrote this little snippet from one of those posts for my writing class:

Runners
      The sky was a bright blue and the sun was warm on his shoulders.  A light breeze pushed him along from the back. He ran, not quickly, not particularly gracefully, but determined.  He stayed near the middle of the pack, pacing himself against the other runners.  He ignored those who passed him, chuckling.  He ignored the bystanders who lined the roadway, pointing and turning their heads to talk to their friends as the runners went by. 
      As he ran, he thought about the finish line, first 5 kilometers on and now, less than 2.  He thought about beating his last time.  He was getting better, a little faster with each race.  He thought about Shell waiting at the finish line and her bright eyes dancing as he crossed. He thought about the guys at the office, in their khaki pants and polo shirts, laughing at him as he walked in every morning. 
      The distance markers planted along the raceway ticked down the distance like minute hands on a clock.  Some of the signs had words of encouragement.  As the raceway bent back on itself, he could see runners farther back in the pack, and eventually, the front of the walking pack.  The mixed field had been a bonus for him when he’d started.  The back of the running pack often melded into the front of the walking pack.  Those who had been walking had encouraged him and welcomed him in their fold when he’d begun participating in these events.
      The finish line was drawing closer and with it the sound of the after-race festivities.  Arrayed around the park was a band, food and water stations.  He knew he would not want to stay long, but Shell would want to hear the band. He vaguely thought about how his shirt was probably drenched by now, but quickly dismissed it.  If he thought about it too much and he would not be able to make himself stay for the music with her.
      As he crossed, Shell met him at the edge of the road.  Clapping her arms around his giant frame, she slapped a kiss on his cheek. Laughing, she took his hand pulled him over to the open dance space in front of the band. 
     “You did so well!  Best time, so far!”
     “Dude!  Your shirt!” 
      As he turned around, he was surprised to see an athletic young man smiling.  He waited.  It could go either way.
      “Dude, that is the best shirt!  I’m kind of new at this running thing and I just wanted to say that you really made me want to keep going.  Awesome shirt!”  The young fellow said as he walked off.
      “Told you it was funny.”  Shell laughed.  “I had to buy it.”
       The back of his shirt read, “I may be fat, but I’m faster than you!”


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