Fourth place isn’t even a place. There are spaces to be had for first, second, and third, but nothing at all for fourth.
I am in fourth. My lower legs cry out with the agony of a thousand tiny torn fibers, but I push. Harder, faster, I think I might die, but a few seconds more and I’ll pass Riley.
I don’t have those seconds. He finishes third. Two steps behind, I cross the line.
Fourth place.
My head hangs low and my body surrenders, gasping for the air it burned through when I ran. Coach hands me a bottle of water. Convulsions wrench my stomach, and I spit the first sip onto the ground.
“That was amazing, Bowman.”
He's smiling, and I don't understand why. My laugh turns to a cough when it hits my lungs.
“Amazingly bad, you mean.”
The words come out as a halfway-formed grunt. I wipe sweat from my brow and look down. Coach rests his hand on my shoulder.
“I mean amazing. You just crushed your best time.”
Inspired by the 5 Minute Freewrite Prompt - Fourth provided by the lovely 