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Saturday, September 17, 2011

The man with the hammer–short story

Last Tuesday I was running with a local athlete.  I was running a 30-minute TT with them.  These are challenging.  They were pushing hard and unable to talk much.  It was early in the morning and I was trying to entertain.  I spoke of some of the things that I thought about while running.  Later that night I sat at the keyboard to write a short photo essay that was due the next day.


The Man with the Hammer

I craned my neck around the corner trying to catch a glimpse of the man with the hammer. It was too early. There was no sight of him. I had not been running long enough for him to show himself. Instead I saw the aid station. I stepped to my left and ran past the first dozen water bearers. I checked over my shoulder and made a quick right and grabbed a cup of the elixir. I pinched the waxed papered vessel and drank the tangy green fluid. It was bitter but I knew that I had to take on sustenance. The man with the hammer would punish mistakes.

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