We all started the race as nerdy and naive blokes.
At the sound of the gun, I took a quick head count and we were just 49.
Everyone was eager and energized, freshly out of their Mother's nest.
It was obviously a breath of fresh air and freedom.
Everyone wanted to be ahead and watch others struggle to the catch up with them.
After the first lap, a lot of wings were broken.
A lot of ankles were twisted, some even left the track field.
Some went to another field to start again.
And some just continued with their blisters and broken bones.
On the second lap, 21 energized people joined the race.
They were fresh and more swifter than the existing runners.
They were neither inexperienced nor freshly out of their Mother's nest.
They were simply Frontliners.
Not too long, we met a lot of casualties ahead.
Unlike us, they had no place to run or anyone to be sympathetic.
They already had enough head start so much was expected of them.
They got down with broken necks, noses and bursted lips.
We continued the journey together.
Not like we were also without injuries or war-marks.
But we knew retreating was not an option, surrendering was not a choice.
We continued at our pace, cheering each other up.
Now after everything, we are in the last lap.
Hands in hands, hearts in one accords.
Hoping to finish well and laughing together.
Having the loudest voice and the purest heart in thanksgiving and worship.
Looking back through the race, people gave up.
Some tried their hardest, but it was like the race was just not theirs.
Some did their best, and it was productive.
Some were just like us, going as it was written of us (Moving in the Power of His Might).
To my partner in this Last Lap (ama_vhee): I wouldn't have chosen a better running mate, you are giving me the best of it. I don't know what comes up with us after this race, but your craziness and mine is a memory I will forever hang on to.
