All at once, the thoughts come running back.
No, not just running...
Sprinting.
Their feet hit the track like a gavel hits the sound block.
Obstacles don't mean a thing -- puddles, hurdles, cracks in the tartan --
They don't stand a chance.
There's no stopping them.
They aren't sprinting a hundred meter.
They aren't sprinting a four hundred meter.
They are sprinting a ******* mile race.
Round and round they go, never stopping, not even bothering to pace.