Shaking raw and pale icy hands hold shattered black case ipods.

Jittery squinting eyes gaze out of the rusted metal windows,
repositioning every ten seconds in cramped bus seats.
The blue medal on their defined necks is a goal
to achieve by performing sheer endurance.
The yellow bus only minutes away from the
luscious glossy golf course, ready to be ripped up
By bright neon spikes, that click on shimmery cement.
Unsanitary blue porta-potties rattle when a white Nike shoe
collides. Under a thick mossy oak tree is where camp sets up.
They suit up in thin black under-armour and loose uniforms,
hidden underneath their cozy warm-up jacket of choice.
At 45 minutes to, they begin stretching defined legs.
Flimsy wet maps litter the black tar sidewalks.
Panic sets in by sprayed white starting lines.
Booms of the starting gun are overheard by
spectators clutching gray duct-taped stopwatches
A fading breeze of white smoke fills the competitors
noses as they pass the old official, wrapped in three layers
of red and blue jackets; staying hidden from the crisp fall breeze.
Orange plastic cones wobble from the runners passing by.

Red and blue flags flutter rapidly, marking the start and
finish. Keeping arms low, thoughts constantly turn
in worn out minds, ready to stumble at any time.
Taking adroit strides, their arms wildly pump.
Sweat glistens on the wide smiling runners,
as victory pains jab at overused shins and knees.
Cramming white hats and purple gloves into green duffles,
a squished smoked turkey and avocado sandwich sits patiently.
Drowsy dreamers reflect on the race, knowing they can improve in time.