by Juan-Pablo Pina
The Oklahoma evening sky was already a melted mess of purples and reds, the sun dipping behind the endless corn fields and towering windmills. And under this midwestern sky, fifteen-year-old Liam Owens was currently running for his life. The reason? This race's outcome would decide whether he would become a legend. But doing that was far easier said than done.
The heat of the sun beamed down on Liam’s neck like a dragon while his legs were burning, his feet now numb after pounding the ground so many times. Through years of training and racing, Liam had become one of the greatest cross-country runners on his team. Matter of fact, he was one of the best in the whole state of Oklahoma! Exhaustion from running was almost alien now. But it wasn’t completely gone. Enough running would drive anyone to the brink. And here, Liam had been pushed so far that he was ready to just...break. It would be a blessing and a half if he could just flop down and sleep. But there was a nagging, incessant voice in the back of his head that told him to keep going, to keep his foot on the pedal.
And then, almost like a mirage in a desert, the finish line was right there, just a little under a quarter mile away. It was so close! Just that one last push was all he needed!
“C’mon, Liam! C’MON!” he snarled to himself, closing his eyes and trying his hardest to ignore the aching burning in his chest.
I. Need. SPEED!!!
Those thoughts bounced around and blared in his brain like a swarm of angry insects. It was then Liam, that with all the force he could muster, turned on his proverbial accelerator and ran. How he had unlocked this new primal energy was beyond him. All he knew was that this was exactly what he needed.
“Holy smokes! Owens from Silo High is absolutely mowing the lawn!” yelled the commentator from the watchtower.
Even though he was running, Liam felt like he was fighting for his life, clawing and kicking his way toward the end goal: survival. But Liam kept fighting and fighting, ignoring the pain in his legs and chest and accelerating seemingly by the second. Finally, it was there: the finish line, in all its glory, the cheering of the crowd making Liam’s head throb
Just one last push! Just one more second! Just one more...
Whump!
For a second Liam felt like he was falling before eventually making contact with the dry midwestern earth, the sound of the crowd no more than a throbbing ambiance that seemed to be miles away. The world felt like it became a wobbly, hazy mess where up was down and sound was color.
But then something snapped the exhausted teenager out of his tired haze. “LIAM! YOU DID IT!” screamed Joe, one of Liam’s friends, shaking his limp shoulders.
Eventually, the rest of the Silo Hight team caught up at the finish line and crowded around the collapsed champion. But Liam was in heaven and hell as agony surged through his entire body while sheer exhaustion and bliss swept over him like a tsunami. His breaths were raspy, fast, and loud.
“Liam? You good, son?” asked Liam’s dad, now at the finish line.
But Liam was just too tired to respond. Eventually, the relief washed over him. And it was without a doubt the best feeling he’d ever experienced. “I di-<weezing cough>...I did it? <weezing cough>,” he said, his face gnarled into the ugliest smile (to be fair, he was about to break down in tears). “Hell yes you did!” shouted a booming voice. Liam immediately stood up, his legs feeling like they had just been struck by lightning. But when Coach Baxter spoke, it was best to listen.
The rest of the Silo High cross-country time shot up from their bent-over position over Liam, watching as Coach Baxter, a barrel-chest, potbellied man, walked through the crowd before giving Liam a tight hug of pure pride.
“I knew you could do it, Smalls!” said the coach, a mile-wide smile on his face.
Baxter hoisted up Liam’s hand which was red and throbbing from all the effort (and slamming into the dusty floor).
“THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ‘BOUT!” shouted Coach Baxter, the crowd on the wooden bleachers standing up and cheering while the rest of the Silo High team patted Liam on the back, hugged each other, celebrated, and simply had a whale of a time.
“S-so d-does that <weezing cough> mean we get to have that party t’night?” asked Liam, his body jackhammering in anguished yet blissful sniffels. “Yeah <weez>, ‘k-kay. Anybody got a wheelchair, though?” he asked half-jokingly, grinning like an idiot while the agony in his legs raged like a wildfire. But it didn’t matter. He and his team had one.
And it was the best feeling in the world…
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