The Winner...

Muscle and bone wound up tight against the starting blocks

Ready to spring into action

At the firing of the gun at the starting of the clocks

The competition is the satisfaction

The senses are raised for instant reaction

The focus of the zone is written on the face

No hesitation at the start of the race

The runners are off, floating on grace

The legs hit their stride

Evaluation made with a glance to the side

Deep breaths are sucking up air

The body is pressed for all it can bear

Farther, faster its almost done

Who is going to win, who will be the one

In fluid motion the arms are moving up and down

Sweat appears at the base of the neck

and in little beads upon the crown

Who is going to win, who will be the one

When the race is done

Heart pounding, lungs burning and every atom is in sync

But the body is now beyond itís brink

Desire arises from somewhere deep down inside

And the legs move faster pushing the pain aside

A little bit farther, a little bit faster, itís almost done

Who will be the winner, who will be the one

A final last effort to make the tape

One last lunge to let victory take shape

Who is going to be the winner, who will be the one

The race in the present, the race in the past

First, second, third, or last

The name of the winner is the one who made the run