Not That Easy

The sound of nervous chatter

Corrupts the silent dawn

As a thousand restless bodies,

Suited in black, lithe and limber,

Swarm near the shore.

The gravel stings

Like bees beneath my feet.

I hear the gun and a frenzy begins.

Slicing through the water,

I become little more 

Than an arm here and a leg there. 

Clambering up the bank,

Wet, tired, chilled to the bone,

I claw at my shell, 

Ripping and running, slipping,

As I flee to the next stage. 

Gears whizzing, I fly

Down my first hill, wet hair trailing.

Sweaty palms stuck to the handlebars,

The air seems laced with poison;

Here the battle begins

And time becomes my biggest contender.

Skidding to a stop, my white knuckles

Grip the brakes and my knees tremble.

I find my footing, vision hazy,

And begin running.

Barely breathing, I cough hard,

Wiping mucous from my mouth,

Sweat pouring into my eyes.

I know this is the last lap.

I push my body harder

And fall across the finish line. 

Life is not like a triathlon.