They are the only ones who distract me. I am the only one who distracts them. Sixteen pointy spikes with sharp tops and twist in bottoms made for speed. Sixteen, surrounded by millions of others just like them. Sixteen weightless spikes fixed to my shoe. From the crowd you hear cheers, but the spikes you cannot see. 

Their speed is secret. They send holes through the ground. They lift up and they lift down and bite the track with their vicious fangs and reflect the sun with their shimmery skin and will never give up with their power. This is how they fight. 

Let one be left behind, the balance would be removed, each supporting the other. Run, run, run they say when i'm silent. They freeze.

When I am grown and too weak to keep running, when I am not swept by the wind, then it is I look at the spikes. When there's nothing left on the finish line. Sixteen who ran despite pain. Sixteen who climb and do not forget to climb. Sixteen whos only reason is to race and race.