The great race is today, I’m so nervous. After all, I’ve only just received the newest upgrade.

I’ve never been so fast. Always just middle of the crowd mediocre, everyone runs, but only the select win. If you don’t run, how will you make it anywhere?

I tie my shoelaces and engage the thrusters. Feeling the adrenaline get pumped through my veins at a rapid speed. But still even the machine isn’t as fast as me.

I step outside with my backpack on and prepare for take off. Just a warm up, not even with my new trump card engaged.

The schools around 32 miles from my house, I live in the countryside, and it’s one of the biggest reasons I’ve learned to run so quickly. If not, I’d have to leave home way to early. I’m not exactly a morning person. So naturally I just got better at hurrying: I take to highway, dodging the other runners and passing them by.

Some of the younger children, those who have just gotten their first upgrade — just small training boots that have mini launchers — take gentle steps, not quite used to running faster than a hurricane. But right now they’re really just a bit faster than a cheetah.

I leave them in the dust.

It takes just about ten minutes to get to school, I’m rather slow, but I guess it was a good warm up...I’ll have to be much faster now.

The kids are lining up, oiling their boots, showing off their enhancements. Once you turn a certain age, they become a part of you. My launchers are already embedded in my calves, and upgrades can morph into me overnight. I know, because they did last night. Already I can activate them with just my thoughts, the red and blue luminescent fluids flooding my systems and running me through with adrenaline.

I let it, stepping up to the line and tying my hair back. The competition looks weak, and I know this is my year. An elderly man steps up with a small shot gun, pointing it to the sky, he yells into the crowd.

“On your ready - get set,” and with a swift step back he fires, signaling the start.

When the dust clears, we’re already gone.