Racer

The racer was so focused.

Her legs, shoulders, lungs

all grinding in sync

towards the finish line.

When she passed it

another came into view.

When she passed that one

another sprouted

from the horizon,

then another

and another.

“I must run faster,”

she muttered,

lengthening her stride, pushing her pace,

eyes ever fixed

on the finish line.

Over the horizon,

a westerly wind blew

the racer’s cheeks swayed.

The fields came into view.

Yellow waves

rolled over the countryside.

Sunflowers.

But then she regained her focus.

“To the finish line,” she thought.

Narrowing her gaze

towards the fluttering banner.

“It’s okay,”

whispered a voice.

The racer shook her head.

Another gust of westerly wind blew.

Her cheeks swayed again.

Her long strides

slowed

to small steps.

Then

the racer stopped.

She climbed atop

a giant boulder

peered out

at the endless fields

and smiled.

“What greater victory is there?”