This air is oddly cool for the middle of summer. Fireflies are winking smugly at me from the other side of the clearing, almost indistinguishable from the floating embers of the campfire. It is peaceful, but this will not last long. This night is ours to make, to fill with adrenaline and the rhythm of running feet.
Georgia, as usual, is the first to break the silence. She is a leader in that out of all the CITs, she is the one who is always speaking. She is not always the one with the best ideas, but she certainly thinks that she is.
“Okay guys, we’ve got to hide this flag. We need to put it on the island.”
I roll my eyes internally. Georgia belongs to my least favorite category of people, the kind who insert their opinions as fact. I will not speak up tonight, though. Better to just go along.
A few minutes later, and after receiving several more commands from Georgia and her cronies, we are off. The feeling is better than anything else I can think of, although admittedly the wind in my ears is blocking any chance of real thought. Our feet pound the ground, never hitting at the same time, but somehow sounding as one steady pulse. I am in the middle of the pack, not leading, not holding the flag. No one has asked my opinion on anything, and I have not offered it, but maybe that’s okay for this moment.
Dirt has covered my feet and legs. I have left my shoes behind. The others in this running pack shout, caught up in their glory, but I stay silent. I would rather listen. These fifteen minutes are, in a way, pointless. We are driving towards a goal that doesn’t stand for anything, just a flag in a tree. It matters even less to me- I will not be the one lifted in the air if we win, nor will I share stories of our victory in the future. But in this moment, I will run.
Georgia, as usual, is the first to break the silence. She is a leader in that out of all the CITs, she is the one who is always speaking. She is not always the one with the best ideas, but she certainly thinks that she is.
“Okay guys, we’ve got to hide this flag. We need to put it on the island.”
I roll my eyes internally. Georgia belongs to my least favorite category of people, the kind who insert their opinions as fact. I will not speak up tonight, though. Better to just go along.
A few minutes later, and after receiving several more commands from Georgia and her cronies, we are off. The feeling is better than anything else I can think of, although admittedly the wind in my ears is blocking any chance of real thought. Our feet pound the ground, never hitting at the same time, but somehow sounding as one steady pulse. I am in the middle of the pack, not leading, not holding the flag. No one has asked my opinion on anything, and I have not offered it, but maybe that’s okay for this moment.
Dirt has covered my feet and legs. I have left my shoes behind. The others in this running pack shout, caught up in their glory, but I stay silent. I would rather listen. These fifteen minutes are, in a way, pointless. We are driving towards a goal that doesn’t stand for anything, just a flag in a tree. It matters even less to me- I will not be the one lifted in the air if we win, nor will I share stories of our victory in the future. But in this moment, I will run.
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