Journal entry

Remember last week when I had a bunch of photos out on the table? I chose the one of the man running. Here is a made-up journal entry from his perspective:



My muscles screamed as my legs flew over the pavement. My arms punched the air, and my jaw tightened. My throat craved water and my lungs craved oxygen. I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

To my left, a small boy with a balloon and a girl with an ice cream cone. Their mother with a smile and a wave. I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

I could hear the crackling of a loudspeaker. A man's deep voice echoed over the lake. I was getting close to the finish line! I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

I glanced at my wrist. Time was moving too fast (would I beat my record?) and too slow (would this path ever end?). A young man shouted, "Go! Go! Go!" I pumped my legs a little bit faster.

Ages passed—or was it seconds? The finish line beckoned. The triumph I felt as my chest tore through the finish line banner was exuberance I had never known before. Exhaustion mixed with satisfaction—the greatest joy in all the world.