The air was heavy with excitement.
He was panting, but kept going. The path ahead was clear; he had left most of them behind. He could not give up now, it would be humiliating!
Of course, he hadn’t gained full lung capacity after the surgery. But his doctor had cleared him for the marathon. “Just as long as you don’t strain yourself.” The Doctor wouldn’t be too happy if he saw him right now.
He had to train anew because of his knee replacement. The physio had recommended that he go for a slow jog, with intermittent sprints, rather than a fast pace throughout. But he was more used to the constant pace, from his academy days. So he had to purge himself of his old habits, all because he had to care for his plastic knee!
The crowd was cheering. He had just 300 meters to go. Some familiar faces beamed at him. Mom and Dad were elated, they were as proud of him as the day he walked out of the hospital, on his own. Farhan had dropped his client meetings to be there to cheer him on. Robert was on video-call, and even Saket had called in sick, just to be there for him.
He could see the finish line. He felt a surge of excitement, and he sped up. Then, he felt a snap.
He hobbled to a stop, and grabbed his knee. No, the other knee. He had sprained it. The pain was not severe, but nagging. After concluding that he had not dislocated it, he started jogging, gingerly placing the injured leg again and again. But he wouldn’t win.
Because he was overtaken instantly. Maintaining constant pace during a marathon is a winning strategy, he knew it, and so did the person who passed him by. Alisha slowed down a bit, looked back and grinned. Then she sped off towards the finish!
He looked at her and smiled. Beaten again.By the wife. All because of the damn knee.
The End.