The athletic fleece she'd bought that morning is sticking to the small of her back, sweat-sodden. Muscles burn as her heart pounds, and there's blood roaring in her ears. Marja could no longer hear the steady thump of her sneakers against the dust path in the park. The view looks out over the burgeoning industrial squalor of Tacoma - in the distance, she hears the rattle-thump-clang of an LRT on Main. The rubber of her soles has turned soft in the heat, and every part of her body feels the compact pressure of a boiling pot of water, lid down. The cheers of the crowd have dimmed to a fuzzy hum. The finish line hovers in view, hazy in the distance. Pushing onwards, she feels a sort of weight fall away - the surge of adrenalin through her brain breaking the limits of her body on performance. She streaks ahead.
An exceptionally loud sound bursts forth from the people lining the route, it breaks her focus and she looks up - twists around. To see Sissy DeMuir striding over and obstacle in the course. She makes it look so easy, so effortless. Disappointment rages in Marja's veins as she crosses the finish line behind her, ignoring the running-fleece wrapped figure lying motionless on the ground, a vein bulging in its forehead.
An exceptionally loud sound bursts forth from the people lining the route, it breaks her focus and she looks up - twists around. To see Sissy DeMuir striding over and obstacle in the course. She makes it look so easy, so effortless. Disappointment rages in Marja's veins as she crosses the finish line behind her, ignoring the running-fleece wrapped figure lying motionless on the ground, a vein bulging in its forehead.