A Tribe Called Sprinters

I felt the lightning in my feet and the fire in my belly as i readied at the start line.  The starter asked my why i was 5 feet in front of the start line but i paid her no attention.  the 4 year old yelled start and i was off with a furious vengeance.  Around the corner i stride, playing the violin with my arms, building speed like a runaway locomotive.  I look to my right, and the mother of said 4 year old is passing me up.  the competitive inner beast inside of me urges my legs to move faster.  yes, move the arms - they are the hammer that drives the nail - i think that's how it goes.  Posture, focus, breathe. i can see the glowing orange cones at the finish line getting near.  Tunnel vision using the last bit of energy to move past the line.  we have made it.