Road Runner 9

“Road Runner 9” by M. Lowery
The finish line was in sight. I pumped my lanky arms and legs. The other road runners were running too. Most wanted to win, to take first place. I just wanted to finish the race. I panted and pushed onward. The number 9 sign stuck to my shirt. Sweat soaked my shirt. Heavy heat pounded my head.
Closer and closer I drew until something stupid happened.
I looked down, stumbled, and fell on flat on my face.
I scrambled up to my feet and crossed the finish line. The other road runners bent over, hands on their knees panting. Some men and women grinned at me. I nodded and went to the concession stand and grabbed a bottle of water, opened it, and drank like a camel.
Food races are tough.