I've been running for miles. I struggled to find my breath just after the start. I was passed by a few people with fire in their eyes, but I'll see them again. I can hear the echo of the onlookers' cheers as I run by, but it's drowned out by the voice in my brain screaming  "2540!",  the bib number of the person in front of me. Chasing down runners makes me feel like a greyhound chasing a rabbit, or more like a wolf chasing a sheep. But anyone I pass is old news, a memory, unless they pass me again and unknowingly put themselves back in my crosshairs. The sun is hot on my face. I wish there was a way to make it go away. My iPod switches to an uptempo song, and I say to myself, "it's time to go get it". I'm closing in on a girl who's pretty fast, but her legs are moving around all crazy. "Crazy Legs" I say to myself, and give a nod and a smile as I go by. The finish is close.  The final sprint I've been saving is somewhere inside. I can see the clock from where I am.  Sometimes I'm very happy with what the clock says, other times, I begin to think what I can do to get faster. I look at the people who finished before me, and wonder what it is they do to get so fast, and I feel a hunger begin to build inside. "Just wait until next time" I tell myself, and I put the race behind me forever. The very next step is getting ready for the next race, back to step one, the beginning. Killing myself for the opportunity to stand victorious at the finish.