The winner's trainer took a suck on his pipe and explained.
"You came fourth. A good effort but you were not obsessed. He has been training for this moment for years and now like Alexander the Great he has no more worlds to conquer. Victory does not always mean pleasure."
"I guess I'm Salieri and he's Mozart," observed the runner.
The winner headed for the pub with his eyes full of melancholia, the reason for existence now disappeared like chaff into the ether.