#60 The Race

By Kimberly King

The hot liquid sun poured into the horizon. My nostrils flared as I sucked in the sticky air, hoping to find inner peace. Instead, I was blasted by Zeus’ sour smell.

“Give it up, freak,” he sneered. “You’ve never beaten me, and you never will.” Undefeated, Zeus raced like lightning which landed him his intimidating nickname.

I tried breathing through my mouth. Forgoing deodorant was one of Zeus’ racing techniques . . . along with eating garlic, I guessed. I could almost taste it.

“Everyone on your marks,” the announcer’s voice thundered.

I stretched each leg and jumped in place. My blood felt thick and slow like gravy. Recruiters eyed us like lions selecting their prey, reminding me how important this race was for my future career.

“Set!”

I crouched down, trying to embrace Zeus’ smell instead of gagging from it. The empty lane in front of me triggered my adrenaline. My blood thinned and pulsed down into my legs.

Bang!

I shot down my lane like a bullet from a gun. My muscles pumped and pulled like gears to a clock. I was quick . . . but Zeus was quicker. He flew past me, engulfing me in his potent aroma.

The steady motion of his legs suddenly gave way like limp spaghetti, and he stumbled. Without a thought, I grabbed his elbow and pulled my greatest competitor to his feet.

A smile from Zeus was more significant than the medal I never won. I had given him his dignity, and he had finally given me mine.