Water, the Real Winner

“Water, water, water,” his voice faded away as if all of his strength had gone.

Mark had been running for a long time and at a fierce rate.  He had been punishing himself in an all out attempt to win the school’s cross country marathon.  He was not far from the finish line; only another hundred metres, but he had collapsed from exhaustion and thirst.  He had pushed himself too hard.

“Somebody get some water quickly before he passes out,” shouted a spectator.

“From where?” inquired another.  “There are no houses around here.”

“But we need water and we need it fast,” insisted yet another spectator.  They had assembled along the route to witness this annual event.  Yet, not one of them had any water and Mark was in serious trouble.

He muttered again, “Water, water, please give me water.”  His voice was barely audible.

By this time the first runner came in sight.  It was almost five minutes since Mark had collapsed.  He was way ahead of the nearest competitor yet here he was lying on the ground, unable to convert this lead into triumph.  His main problem, however, was not winning the race but getting water.  For the third time he mouthed, “Water, water.”  This time he could only form the words.  There was no sound coming from his lips.

The first runner came nearer and nearer.  “Shawn is getting closer!” shouted a spectator.  “No way Mark can win this race now.  I always knew he didn’t have a chance.  My money was always on Shawn.  This would be his third year as champion.”

“How could you be thinking of the race at this time, you insensitive idiot?” responded one of the spectators who was now fanning Mark in an attempt to revive him.

Shawn arrived at the scene and stopped.  “What’s happening here?” he asked. 

“It’s Mark.  He has collapsed from exhaustion.  He called for water but we don’t have any and as you can see, there are no houses around.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Shawn. “I still have a little with me.  I always run with my water.  Here, let me get through to him.” 

In three minutes Mark was on his feet and ready to run again.  “Come on, Mark. Let’s go.  We still have a race to finish and I can see our nearest rival in the distance.  He’s catching up quickly.” 

Mark stumbled over the finish line, with Shawn giving him just a little push.  “Congrats,” said Shawn.  “You deserve to win, Mark.” 

“Thanks,” replied Mark.  “I couldn’t have done it without your water and your push.”

They both laughed and then watched as the other competitors made their way to the finish line.  They fought for the bronze but everybody knew who had won the gold and silver. 

The announcer’s voiced boomed with the aid of the microphone.  “Here are the results of the school’s annual cross country marathon.  In third position, Henderson Skeete, in second position, Shawn Spencer and the gold goes to Mark Small.” 

If you ask him now, Mark would still tell you that the real winner was water. 

  

Stewart Russell © 1999