we are runners.

you size up the competition
as you shake hands
with all the usual suspects.
that one guy is here -
good,
you'll show him.

you toe the line.
the road stretches out before you
empty and beckoning,
clear as an invitation.
in the near distance,
the lead bicyclist waits.

you hum along with the national anthem singer.
i don't hear that it's happening at all
until y'all are halfway in,
and conversations quiet
as hats come off in a wave through the crowd.

my place is mid-pack.
i swing my arms to maintain
a modest bubble of personal space
amid strollers
and pets
and costumed hobbyjoggers
and children.
i am anonymous.

the gun fires and we are off,
you and i.

you are out of the gate like a cannon shot,
a thoroughbred - formed for this.
you strain but it doesn't show:
you know better than to waste energy on a grimace.

i bob and weave.
the crowd is thick
and without rhythm.
children sprint then deadstop in my path.
a gaggle of giggling bridesmaids glide past in a miasma of mimosa.
a stroller wheel catches my heel.
a dog's leash is a tripwire.

i see you coming back
while i am still going out.
you are beautiful.
you are inspiring.
you will not be defeated.

the crowd thins and i can breathe,
and i set my sights on one and one and one,
and one by one they are behind me.
i will not be defeated.

as i make my way back to the car,
you are there -
receiving adulation like a savior.
you showed that guy.
you showed us all,
on this day.

you race to be
the winner,
and i race to be
not the loser,
and we are both fierce competitors.
we are both fierce.

we are not the same in many ways,
but on this day, we are the same
in the most important way:
we are runners.