Writer on the Run XXV

Standing in the gate of the third wave and I felt defeated before I even took my first step. I was standing next to a young man from Calgary, Alberta who signed up while drunk one night then woke up to a charge on his credit card and decided to start training immediately. I stood there anxiously eating his carbohydrate nuggets listening to him tell his story and secretly wishing that when they fired the guns that a bullet would hit me in the foot.

I couldn't hear the shots but the people ahead of me started to move so I wished the group luck and slowly followed. About one hundred metres in and I noticed a young woman laying on the bridge surrounded by other runners...she must have fallen among the group of runners and I was legitimately jealous that she was excused from continuing. The Verrazano Bridge was a brutal start but I felt much better coming down the other side and into Brooklyn...how fucking long is this going to take me...earbuds in, music cranked and waving to the people above the overpass...