The line stretched across the field, holding back the competitors like an electric fence. Crowded behind stood the athletes, sweating a mix of anxiety and excitement. The tension could be felt by spectator and competitor alike, though seasoned athletes tried their best to wear a straight face. Runners exchanged quick glances with teammates, shaking the hands of nearby competitors, who, in a minute's time,  would be vying to run them down.

The air was thick from a day's worth of heat, and flies came out to great the runners at the starting line. Parents flocked the sidelines, brandishing cameras in hopes of capture the first seconds of of their child's struggle. Wielding a starting gun, the race official sauntered slowly to his position mid way down the chute, knowing fully well that all eyes were locked on him. Staring down no one in particular, the official's hand crept above his head, and with it, the gun. Bodies tensed as his trigger finger found a hold. At this moment, frozen in time, the athletes ceased to exist as competitors, rather they were a wave at the peak of it's crest, ready to roll forward in a startling outpour of energy and power.