Excerpts

We will periodically release excerpts and quotes from the novel!

Despite his current state of agonizing hell, Todd increased the pace once again, for what seemed like the hundredth time in the race. Blake struggled with everything he had left to stay in contact. The gap lengthened and shortened inch by inch as both runners were experiencing extreme states of crippling fatigue. Colors, objects, and sounds all warped together into one indistinguishable entity. His hearing had almost faded entirely as he could no longer decipher between the spurts of noise that were projected at him. Thousands of blood vessels were breaking and several more brain cells were being terminated by the second. It truly was a death march to the end.

As the gun went off, the massive field of 493 runners ejected from the start line. When one stood barefoot, they could feel the vibration of the tough earth under their feet. It was a scene similar to that of a giant stampede of horses one sees in an old western movie. In the midst of the battle, elbows were thrown, feet were tripped up, and legs were spiked. Many parents view cross-country as a non-contact sport, one for their shy, passive child to participate in where no aggression takes place. However, the start of a large invitational was a wake-up call to momma’s little boy. If he was afraid of an elbow in the ribs, he would quickly learn to get over it. The start of the race was just the beginning of the abuse. Spikes would dig into one’s flesh and draw a trickle of blood that snaked down one’s leg in a way that resembled a river on a large map. Whether it was intentional or not, a runner of any caliber was bound to be spiked at least once in his or her cross-country career. Branches would scratch one’s skin as one runner pushed another into a thicket of trees and shrubs as they ventured through a narrow forested trail. Uneven terrain coupled with low-profile spikes combined for several sprained ankles through which runner’s were required to battle. Simply put, cross-country was far from the non-contact sport that over-protective mothers wished their sons would partake in. Inevitably, the pretty boys and pushovers would learn to defend for themselves by the end of a single cross-country season. To their surprise, many of them would grow to like this aggression for which they previously feared. In a way, the sport had somewhat of an un-taming effect on those that seemed most unlikely to participate in a man’s sport that involved sheer hostility and belligerence.

He decided to make the most of his leadership role. He found it more important to inspire than to command. It was more effective for him to listen to others instead of run his own mouth. Rather than leading every run, he was able to push the limits of others by allowing them to lead. As the summer progressed, he realized that being the captain of the team was not for the person who could exercise the most control over his peers, but for the one that cared most about his teammates. Care, he soon came to realize, was the greatest motivator of all. It was superior to fear, anger, and even money. If one runner knew that another had a genuine interest and care in his progress, he would be more likely to pursue his goal with an ardent desire. He would not only be happy that he reached his goal, but he would be happy that another would share his enjoyment. It was a win-win situation.