La Ultra

• Corey Rosevear, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2012

A woman runs, her feet applying the slightest of pressure before raising her legs and repeating the same motion, again and again. Lisa watches the girl, hypnotised, analysing her each and every move, again and again. As she watches the girl Lisa critiques how she could do better, this girl’s technique is all wrong. Lisa shouts to the girl encouraging her to achieve better but alas, her voice is soundless. Condescending thoughts echo throughout Lisa’s mind shouting as they reach a roaring thunder too loud to bear. An exposed rock suddenly grabs the girl’s leg and rips her to the ground with a deafening thud, as her chocolate brown hair parts, Lisa realises, she is looking at herself.

Awake.

Wide Awake.

Lisa pulls herself out of bed. Pushing the memories of that horrible dream out of her mind. As she moves over to the large hotel windows, Lisa presses her delicate palms against the cool, metallic frame then looks out to the beguiling, beautiful landscape, ‘La Ultra’.

A quick look towards her bedside table Lisa’s eyes scan the digital clock, 4:30 AM, way too early to be awake, the race doesn’t start until 1:30 that after noon. Lisa moves over to her suitcase, she couldn’t sleep now anyway. As she opens her bag pushing unnecessary items out of the way Lisa grips a small plastic frame to find the one thing that pushes her hard enough to want to win this race. A picture of her ex-boyfriend, Stefan, who left her in the middle of a desert with nothing but a kiss on the cheek and a simple ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’

As anger and regret tingle throughout her bones,
Lisa is overwhelmed,
with a feeling to run.