The White Line Dash

A fresh white parking stripe stretched across the asphalt. Perfectly straight. A regulation sprint course. I lined up at the first asphalt seam, planted my boots into the aggregate, and launched into a full dash. My pace was steady. Three feet in, a sudden crosswind caught the hem of my cape, ballooning the spotted fabric like a parachute. Drag increased immediately. I did not flinch. I lowered my center of gravity, maintained a disciplined forward lean, and powered straight through the resistance until my front foot crossed the terminal crack. Clean finish. Cardio benchmark established.