Tomorrow

Blue Spikes

Her green-blue spikes crunched on the dark gravel path within the stout opening. 'Only one mile left,' she thought aloud in-between uneven breaths. Her turquoise and burning red eyes instantaneously darted to the red-clad runner in front of her.

"Close the gap!" her coach bellowed over the waging roar of the crowd. The girl obeyed and her legs were willingly thrown into a sprint. The hot sun glistened off of the metal tips of her dirtied, weathered, hand-me-down spikes. 'How invigorating...' Oh, that runner in front of her was good as gone.

Her challenger anxiously glanced over her sweaty shoulder, struggling to increase her speed. Good. As. Gone. The leader held back tears and, exasperated, gasped for air as the feisty girl with green-blue spikes swept past with a blur.

She would place. She just needed to catch up to the remaining runner on her team, and she was home-free.

Her hand shakily wiped off the beads of sweat accumulated on her forehead as the cruel sun beat down on her stinging face. The finish was a meager four-hundred meters ahead, she could-

"Shit!" she spat as her body went tumbling to the sodden ground. It was a mischievous little root that was the culprit. Her spikes were definitely reliable for speed, but didn't improve her clumsiness. Within seconds, a school of runners zipped past, none of whom forgot to step on the fallen girl's head. Ouch. All hope was lost; she'd given up. She'd blown Regionals.

A rush of confidence just then, however, overpowered her negative thoughts as a fellow teammate sprawled an open arm out towards her. She grinned and wobbly stood, skewing mud left and right. Not that she cared. With a twinkie in their eyes, both runners bursted into a mad dash to the finish.

"Pass! Pass! Pass!" their coach demanded.

And they did. One. Two. And three— the red—clad girl that had nearly burst into tears earlier. Forgive and forget is not a valid runners' motto, mind you.

The green-blue spiked runner could spot the vivid orange line that was the finish. Finally, an end to the madness!

But, she'd also noticed an odd lack of panting and only two— not four— footsteps squishing in the damp grass. Her teammate had fallen behind, dehydration taking its toll. She waved her hand. "Go," she panted. "Go and win."

It was too late for that. Practically every team had a runner to finish— all hope of meagerly placing was lost. She looked to her coach with question in her expression.

He nodded.

So, the girl with green-blue spikes and her motivator trotted through the nearly boiling mud of the final stretch, ignoring the pleads and demands of their audience. The results were posted- last, second to last. But, they were proud. They'd been a team.

And there was more waiting at the finish than port-o-potties and water. There was the kid from the eight grade team cheering.

And that was enough.

                             ~

"Seriously?" the girl huffed, climbing the tedious trek up the winding hill. "'And that was enough?'"

"Well, yeah," her friend replied, spikes clicking with every step. "We demonstrated teamwork and you met your-"

"Yeah, but that wasn't worth—"

"Hustle! I wanna see eight more of those at one-hundred percent effort!"

"Winter training."