SHE WALKS IN THE RUNNER'S LANE

Greetings!

In a race, the real winner is the one who keeps a close eye on her competitors, lest they might trip and fall. She pauses for a while to see if no-one is left behind, desolate in despair and fearful of the great challenge awaiting them. She runs not, though her stride may be steady and consistent. There are onlookers, naysayers and all sorts of spectators but it is not her job to satisfy them. The crowd is brutal and deliberate as it sends out  notorious warnings. Their demands fall on deaf ears! Instead, she listens to the famous melody on the playlist of her heart as she moves onward with grace and dignity. 

She walks in a runner's lane. She owns her speed. The track is neither intimidating, nor revolting, as she's been taught to believe. No, the old track is her newest and kindest companion and together, they are fine and fierce. It's a marriage! "I am yours" she whispers to the anchored foundation beneath her. 

She feels it, the after effects of a rushed wind brushing her cheek, as a fellow competitor ventures on. She profits from this act of resilience for she was longing for a fraction of a breeze. "Oh how refreshing it is when an opponent passes by", she says with a valid smile, while delivering a scream of cheer into the air to the flying figurine ahead of her.

From the crowd comes the intense motivation and constant bickering of how this race ought to play out. "It's not the race that exhausts me" a silent voice reminds her.

She moves. One foot in front of the other. This is her territory-a champion's zone. Nothing beats the natural progress of an all-time, fully armoured winner. The veil that once blinded her, turned into a protective mask, shielding the memory of who she is. The ugly sun accidentally revealed its mark and the cloudy sky saved her from loss. 

She is a harness-free trotter who does not respond to pressure. With tippy toes she dances amongst warriors in their lanes. She is the proud owner of freedom! Her race is not for her, her race is for the competitor, alongside her. Her race is for the golden ager,  the good old racetrack who lives to eternally tell the story of the winner who once walked in a runner's lane.