I set myself a short essay title and competed in my writing against AI

The prompt is this: write a short story about a runner collapsing near the marathon finish line. You’re one of the runners, and you observe another runner collapsing.

My story:

The experience was familiar: discerning the red numbers on the clock at the finish line. Are they always red? I think so. During my previous races, the digital clock was always red. But it never becomes less exuberant, this experience of seeing the finish line and adding another time to your book of racing results. The best thing about the final stretch is that you know you’re guaranteed to finish. The fear of dropping out or a collapse of some sort is gone. So you add the speed, overcoming the almost unbearable pain in your legs. You are also more receptive to the cheers of the crowd. You’re a finisher. You’re truly powerful in their eyes. You‘ve just achieved something that they haven’t.

But suddenly, something felt different. My focus was still on the finish line — the clock and the truss gate. But there was something different about the noise and the motion. Something concerning. The cheering changed its joyful tone. Someone screamed, “Help!”.

Slowing down and being curious was not an option, so I continued my final sprint to the finish line, aware of something unpleasant happening yet fearful of disrupting my race.

Taking my final strides toward the finish, I realized what happened: the runner before me…