[DaoCFan]

The next morning I woke up early in the morning, having dreamed of all things; missing the race. I had a breakfast of cashews, raisins, and a few pieces of dark chocolate, in addition to frequent drinks of water. Though I didn't realize it at the time, I had never been so focused about a race. I breathed running, I walked running, I ate as a runner would. We arrived around 8am, an hour and a half before the race would actually begin. In my mind the words of Micheal Johnson rang true to me "Pressure is nothing more than the shadow of opportunity."

An hour and a half later, I stood behind a crowd of 50 some-odd people. The official rode up to us all on a bike, saying "The race begins in 60 seconds."

I looked around, getting some final stretches in.

"50 seconds."

"Wow they really build up the suspense here." someone next to me said.

"40 seconds."

I laughed.

"30 seconds."

I realized with dread I had forgot to yawn, since apparently it allows your lungs to carry more air.

"20 seconds."

"WRRAAGHHHH----"

"10 seconds"

"---AHHHHHGHHHHH---"

An air horn went off, and with my mouth still wide like an imbecile I sped ahead. Within the first 100 meters I had emerged in 3rd place out of 138.

For the first mile I was in 3rd place, as I passed the mark someone yelled my split; I did not hear. My calves ached and my mind began to wander and wane. Two people passed me and I was left in 5th place. I passed a water station and dunked myself in the water, though now my throat was parched I was fearful of drinking for some unknown reason. We reached the 1.5 mark and turned back. Now the 4th man was far ahead of me; passing the station again I tossed the water into my mouth and tossed the cup aside into the sand beside the boardwalk. At the 2 mile mark I heard my 2 mile split called.

"12:31!"

I had just PRed in the 2 mile.

I kept going, my heart ached but a building up ahead made me believe I was near the end. With dread I realized this was not the building I was looking for, furthermore I heard the footsteps of the 6th man come up behind me. I mouthed "Oh crap" (In reality I used another word, but for the sake of the children I shall abstain from such language).

My heart relled, and I could barely see, I clenched my clothing and I tried to keep myself alert. The 6th man came upon me, and some crude thought must have went through my mind that could've be translated as "Oh no!" but I was so out of it I couldn't even tell.

But then something happened, which another friend would later say was probably fate. He said "Come on! Finish strong! Don't give up! Keep going!"

I felt awake then, a second wind rushed upon me and I shouted weakly to him. "Thanks- I needed that!" and I pushed myself foward, the true end in near sight. I turned along the path, I could hear the crowd of people, the announcer among the band. I could see them, I went under a bridge and could see the people looking on, the announcer calling my number. The watch above the finish line reading 19:50.

I went like a mad-man through that final stretch.

19:50
19:51
19:52

I called every last bit of strength to keep going.

19:53
19:54
19:55

I passed through the bushes, my dad and his friend taking pictures.

19:56
19:57
19:58

I passed through the finish line, my arms flailing.

19:59.

I had broken 20 minutes by .6 seconds. I had reached a legendary milestone for any novice High-School runner. I fell back upon the ground, right into a mound of goose-poo. My dad informed me of this, but I was so out of breath I didn't give a damn.

I had come in 5th place, best in my age group. I looked around for the 6th man and indeed I did find him. He asked me if I had broken 20 minutes , I told him yes, and that I owed him one big time. He seemed glad at this, and said "You're under 40 right."

"Yep."

"Good! As long as I haven't been beaten by a 40 year old I'm happy."

I laughed and said. "I'm under 18!"

He turned around and smiled, he then looked away. I didn't see him again.

I came home that day after my father insisted I help him remove a 1958 Pontiac Engine from a rusty car. Fiddling with my medal I picked up the phone and once again called my Cross-Country Coach. I informed him of the good news; he was absolutely delighted. "5th Overall! Best in your age group! Sub 20! John that's fantastic!" the conversation was truncated however, since he had to drop his kids off at a day-care.

That night, I told my friend "Foon" about it online. He was thrilled about the news, (he was the one who said #6 must have been fate) and just before I logged off he told me:

"Once you go Sub-20 5K, you can never go back, nor look back. Welcome to the club."

And there in it's entirety is my running story to date, although it's not even close to completion and hopefully never will be.