Zealous

It’s the last day of the A to Z Challenge. I was very zealous when the challenge started. I loved thinking up each day’s story. I will admit some letters were harder than others, but it was a challenge after all. 

I’m proud to say I enjoyed the whole experience from start to finish, and I completed every letter/day on time. (Good thing blogger has the scheduling feature.) 

One thing I didn’t expect was that my writing would improve because of the challenge. I usually write micro fiction pieces for my storyboard blog, but with the challenge, I found my stories were getting longer. People responded to the change as well. I received great reviews of the stories included in the challenge.

I will definitely do the A to Z Challenge next year…if I know about it in time. My memory is awful, so I’ll hope people talk about it to remind me. 

I hope everyone else enjoyed the challenge as well. Now, I will leave you with a story for the letter Z. Thanks for reading, y’all.

Andrea picked up the pace as she rounded the last bend in the twisting, winding road. She knew the finish line was around the corner and she was definitely ready for the race to be over.

When she started out, Andrea was over zealous. She bought new running shoes, shorts, and a sports bra that was supposed to hold up anything. She trained every day, sometimes twice a day. Her dog, Charlie, got tired of running with her and refused to leave the house. If she wanted his company, she had to forcibly put his leash on him. She gave up after a while and just ran on her own.

Her friends tried to tell her she was overdoing it, that she needed to pace herself, but Andrea hadn’t listened. She knew she had to train or she’d never make the thirteen miles. She’d only been running for a  few months, but was determined to finish the half marathon. 

No blisters, cramps or sore muscles were going to keep her from accomplishing her goal. And on the morning of the race, she had all of those and more.

Still, Andrea donned her gear and headed to the starting line. She remembered the excitement of the moment, the exhilaration the crowd shared. 

The first few miles went well. Andrea kept her pace steady, her head up and pushed forward. At the five-mile marker, she tripped. Andrea pulled herself back up and continued on, blood dripping down her knees and her palms on fire. 

At mile marker 8, her side started cramping. Andrea held her side and tried to keep running. She made another mile before she had to slow to a walk. After another mile, the pain subsided and she started to run again. 

She reached the ten-mile marker and her bladder started complaining. Andrea looked around for a port-a-potty, but none was in sight. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and took off into the woods. 

Andrea had just pulled her shorts down when she looked over and spotted two men, mouths agape, watching her. She noticed the golf clubs as she fell face forward onto the ground. The men quickly turned around, but not before she heard their laughter.

Gathering her clothes, and her dignity, Andrea resumed the race. Her face was blazing, but her feet felt like they were stuck in molasses. She trudged onward, determined to make it to the end. 

At mile eleven, Andrea decided she’d been out of her mind to enter the race. By mile twelve, she was cursing everything from the sun, which was boiling, to her new sports bra, which wasn’t holding anything in check, but letting her boobs bounce around like basketballs. 

Still she ran. She wasn’t about to make it that far and quit. Andrea was going to finish the race if it killed her.

The finish line was in sight when Andrea fell. She clutched her chest and doubled over in pain. The other racers, who had already finished, rushed to her side. They told Andrea to lay still, that help was on the way. 

Andrea wouldn’t listen. She pushed at those trying to help her, yelling for them to get out of the way. 

Nobody knew what to do, and they couldn’t get her to calm down, so they moved away from Andrea and watched as she turned over and started to crawl.

Andrea finished the race, although nobody was sure she knew it. She crawled over the finish line and collapsed. Her friends had ‘Never Give Up’ etched on her headstone.