"READY!"
In the dark sliver of road, only the intermittent lamp post lights the way. The lines on the ground reflect what little light it can from the amber traffic light not too high above it.
"Paint sponsored by SENBOY" a sign reads.
"U-turn"
Reflective paint marks out their paths. Battered, chipped, barely hanging on, these narrow lines mark out the path Jepoy has to take.
This dimly lit street, with crowds surrounding him was a far cry from a life he used to know. Instead of running toward a goal, he was running away—away from the police, away from the law, away from certain doom.
"GALINGAN MO JEPOY!" a voice in the crowd shouts out.
As he waits for the traffic light to turn green, Jepoy plots out his path for the race. Simple, straight forward, but not without its turns.
First a U-turn onto the course, then an intersection followed by a cobble-stone path. On-going road work has messed up his part of the road, but he'll manage, it's not like he's used to smooth tarmac anyway. Another intersection and the race ends before the next U-turn slot.
"UMAYOS KA JEPOY! ANLAKI NG PINUSTA KO SAYO!"
The odds are against him, at least, the betting odds are. He's only ever ran on the streets to escape capture while his opponent is a Palarong Pambansa competitor. Jepoy chose to wear his best Archipelago tsinelas for this race, but he wishes he could afford the True Balance running shoes his opponent has on.
Bookies had to give him 50:1 odds just to get anyone to take a bet on Jepoy. He won't see a centavo from those bets, but a guaranteed 500 pesos and an additional 500 if he wins will be enough to buy ulam for a few days, at least until the next race.
The light turns green.
A drop of rain falls on Jepoy's head. He takes a second to notice it. It's drizzling.
"GREEN NA HUY!"
"Ay potek!" Jepoy springs into action, unleashing a burst of speed to catch up to his opponent who has already sped past him on the U-turn.
Wildly, Jepoy places one foot in front of the other at a frantic pace. In his rush he doesn't slowdown in time hit the U-turn, the moisture from the drizzle making the ground slick—Jepoy slams into the U-turn barricade and he stumbles to the ground. Onlookers quickly pick Jepoy back up and set him on track to re-join the race.
"Tsk! Ba naman 'yan!" Now he has to make up for more lost ground. But at least the course is a straight run from this point on. He sees his opponent running in front of him, the light from his reflectorized running shoes flickering in and out of view.
As he approaches the first intersection, Jepoy scans the area left, then right. Nothing. He picks up the pace trying to close the gap as much as he can. Try as he might, the tiny reflections of light from his opponent's shoes keep going further and further into the night.
Suddenly, there's a stumble. The light drizzle has made the ground slick but the running shoes were able to compensate for it. They weren't, however, built for running on uneven surfaces like cobble stone paths, causing the trained runner to lose his balance for a second, giving Jepoy a chance to catch up.
The tsinelas on Jepoy's feet, loud, flimsy, one size bigger than his feet, a lucky find in one of the dumpsters he chanced upon. Terrible traction, but it didn't matter, the way Jepoy was running he was better off barefoot, except that he was afraid shards would cut up his feet. They always do. The tsinelas was flexible enough to wrap around the jagged cobbles without problem.
Jepoy was catching up.
Suddenly the reflection of the running shoes grew fainter again. The street itself was already dark, but somehow they were at a stretch that grew even darker. Road maintenance projects have cut off the power to the street lamps. It was harder to see the road, but onlookers lit the way with their phones, turning their flashes into a sea of fireflies in the dark guiding them through the route.
"PULIS! PULIS! MAY PULIS!"
Suddenly the sea of lights crashed and dispersed back into the darkness as the people ran to safety.
The race continued. Jepoy began to feel the rush coming back to him, the rush of having to run for his freedom. The police were after him again, no, not him, just the bookies. He was just running, it's not a crime to run, right? He's just running, there's nothing wrong with running.
"HOY!"
Jepoy sees the other runner, getting closer to him, slowing down. Ahead is the last intersection. A stream of light comes into focus from the left—headlights from an oncoming car. The light is coming in fast, the other runner is slowing down to let the car pass. Slow down, let it pass, good idea.
The moisture from the light drizzle has moistened the road making it slick. Try as he might, Jepoy doesn't slow down in time. He's headed toward the intersection, so is the car. In a thrust of desperation, Jepoy leaps into the air.
The driver in the car slams on the brakes as Jepoy barely grazes the hood, rolling off at the other end of the car. He's banged up, shaken, but still going. Everyone's in shock, the driver, the runner, Jepoy, but he keeps going.
"Tsk! 'Ba naman yan!" A visibly annoyed driver exclaims.
It's the U-turn. He's made it. Two bookies meet him at the finish line, one visibly dejected.
"Good job, boi! O, eto na bonus mo. Takits na lang dun."
The two of them take a photo of the scene on the phones and scurry away. A 500 peso bill lays on the floor as Jepoy takes a seat on the ground. The exhausted teen chases after the bill before the wind can get to it. He tucks it into the garter of his pants and rolls it in.
He hears footsteps coming from behind him.
"PULIS AKO!"
Jepoy doesn't move. He sits there as the footsteps get louder and the police officer runs past him. He's not who they want. He's not running away from them anymore, but he is running. He's a runner now. A speed runner.
*inspired by a real news report but all events fictional
