SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

[This is a track-thing. If anyone wants to show up whose interested in a friendship with David or just in mocking him, feel free. All members of the track and cross-country teams welcome.]

David wasted no breath on words, on taunts, on mockery. He simply ran: let all his strength, all his awareness, flow to his legs until he was racing up the track, a dashing, maddening blur.

How fast? It troubled him, sometimes. At the last race of his junior year, he'd managed a 4:11 mile time--he'd actually beaten the female world record. He wasn't aiming--nor, he admitted, could he, at this stage in his life--beat the male record. But he could clear four, couldn't he? Wasn't that doable?

And yet, he hadn't. For all his struggling, all his practice, he hadn't managed to even break his own personal best of 4:11. The closest he'd come was 4:20.

He didn't know if any of the team was nearby. He wouldn't let it worry him, not yet. Four laps around the track was a mile: this was his second, and according to his wristwatch he was currently sitting at 2:05.

Let's do it, he thought somberly, and put on another burst of of speed.

((Continued from Stretched Out...)

Sitting too long in the one spot never did Kale any good. Fire was in his veins now, burning up and telling him to run. He vaulted over the fence and onto the running track. His Inov-8s pounded on the asphalt as he picked up speed and all could think about was his breathing.

Inhale.

Left foot, right foot...exhale on the third footfall.

He had been working on it. The other guys had told him that he wore out too easily. They were Free Runners, creating their own style...But if he wanted to do Parkour, he'd have to learn to discipline himself. That's what they had said. That's what Bobby-J had drilled into his brain since they day he joined his Parkour group.

It wasn't long before he found himself neck and neck with a familiar face. David Meramac from his baseball team, he was pretty certain. He didn't really talk enough to other team members to get to know them well, though.

So David's track...Has to be by his speed... Kale glanced at his own feet. He'd have to talk to him. It was polite, right?

"Track team?" He practically panted.

"Damn right," David managed, breathing a little harder now that he was pushing his limits. "Tryin' to-" he broke off, taking a few breaths to steady himself. "Break four minutes." He managed a grin. "Not that I've had much luck."

His legs were burning now, but he was good at this kind of thing. He was kind of astonished that Kale was keeping up with him. He gave the boy a once-over. Baseball team, he knew, but not much more than that. But he'd never struck him as being particularly fast, and track was really all David was good at.

Still, if he managed to keep pace. "Thought baseball was more your thing," he said, increasing his speed to see if Kale could keep up. "What are ya doin' on the track, if ya don't mind me askin'?"

Kale pushed on, feeling his hair whip at his forehead.

"What?" He puffed. "Baseball? No..." He took a moment to level out his breathing, keep it at a good pace. "It's not my thing. I run..." With that said he pushed himself a little harder. "I'm just trying to build...my endurance..."

He could hear the sound of their feet hitting the ground almost as loudly as his heartbeat in his ears.

"I've always gotta be running..."

(OOC: Debut of Jason Clarke.)

The small young man twiddled with his moustache as he walked towards the track. His normally slicked back hair had been let down, causing his eyes to almost end up blocked by the individual strands. He looked out towards the track. Only a couple people there. May as well let out some energy before calling it a day.

Jason Clarke started at a light jog, steadily increasing to a run, his thoughts of the day swimming through his head. In some ways, Leeds was easier than St. Paul.

America, he thought. The only country where one can be old enough to kill for king and country, but too young to have a pint. He chuckled. It was the irony that got to him. Just like Jason himself. He tried out for Survivor twice, even though the wasn't even a US citizen, but study for AP Physics? Couldn't hold on for five minutes before turning on the TV, tweaking his car, or taking six laps around the house. Then maybe he could study for a half hour. He looked at the pair of runners.

Damn, they were fast. They had been about fifty meters ahead of him when he had started. Now they were about a hundred meters behind him. He was going to have to move to the outside if he didn't want to get trampled.

Always running, eh? David could sympathize with that.

Not wasting anymore of their breath on words, both Kale and David pushed themselves (the other boy a bit more than David, but he was still keeping up and even David was starting to feel tired, he could feel the pounding of blood in his temples as though his whole body were a percussive instrument). As he started the third lap, barely registering some mustached kid coming out onto the track and then taking a hasty few steps back, he felt an old sensation of weary joy rising straight from his soul.

What was it, David wondered again? What was this heady intoxication, this 'runner's high'? He didn't buy explanations of endorphins, of the body's natural hormones: couldn't but them. This was something else, a feeling straight from the soul.

Running, as far as David was concerned, was as close to flying as a man could really get on his own. And for David, flying had been a dream since the first time he saw Peter Pan.

He finished his fourth lap and came to a stop, panting. Checked his watch hopefully--his legs were burning, surely he'd managed it this time, surely--

4:22.

God damn it.

He spat in one direction, fighting off his anger, staving off his disappointment. He glanced up at Kale, made a weak smile. "H-hot damn, you run pretty well," he admitted.

Kale hunched over himself, taking in as much air as he could. He was exhausted.

"You too!" He grinned up at David. "You're fast...I need speed like that..." With that, he pointed over at the bleachers. "Wanna sit for a second?...I've been running and jumping around most of the morning..."

He started heading over, rolling his shoulders as he went. When they reached their goal, Kale let out a loud sigh.

"Were you aiming for a certain time?"

"Wanna sit for a second? I've been running and jumping most of the morning."

"Oh, sure," David replied, smiling. "I...I need a break after that, too." He put a hand to his chest and exhaled, trying to catch his breath, and then moved towards the bleachers, keeping Kale beside him.

"Were you aiming for a certain time?"

"Oh, yeah," David admitted, looking a little sheepish. "I've been trying to break four minutes all years, but...I can barely break 4:10." He paused, as they staggered up the bleachers and collapsed. "What's your deal, anyways?" he asked. "You're pretty damn fast. Why aren't you on Track?"

"Oh, yeah. I've been trying to break four minutes all years, but...I can barely break 4:10." He paused, as they staggered up the bleachers and collapsed. "What's your deal, anyways?" he asked. "You're pretty damn fast. Why aren't you on Track?"

"I'm actually quite interested myself. I almost felt that performance. Bloody impressive, I must say." Jason complemented, his trademark Yorkshire accent sounding out as he himself jogged to the bleachers. "I've done track since middle school, and beating seven minutes is a pipe dream to me." He recognized the dark-haired boy from practice. The brown-haired guy could have ... no ... should have joined the team. "You definitely would have been a star on the track team. What kept you?"

"You definitely would have been a star on the track team. What kept you?" The teen looked over at the new comer, trying to name the face.

Feeling the focus on him he began to flush. "I...my extra activites are mostly out of school..." he admitted as he fiddled with the coloured bands on his fingers. He grinned alittle and jerked his thumb in David's direction. "Besides with this guy around, I wouldn't get a look in." He paused breifly then.

"I'm sorry...I didn't catch your name."

"Christ, you kept up me, yeah?" David laughed. "I don't do anything except run, when I'm not fuckin' around on the computer." Despite his failure to break four minutes he was feeling pretty good. His legs had that odd, hot numbness that always seemed so peculiarly good to him, he was breathing deeply, taking in the oxygen as succor, and he could feel his heart thundering away within the recesses of his chest.

Alive alive alive. Good feelings.

"If you've got time to do stuff outside school and you're still beatin' me down, I'm kinda embarassed." He laughed again, then flashed his eyes to the other guy. British? Odd, that.

He was about to ask what his name was, but Kale beat him to the punch and David fell quiet, waiting for an answer.

"I'm sorry...I didn't catch your name."

"Ah, where are my manners? Jason Clarke." Jason chuckled at the turn of events, extending his hand. He looked at the two. Both of them looked athletic, but he couldn't quite place them. He knew half of the athletes from his tutoring math and the sciences. Perhaps they were a couple of them. The faces ran together, occasionally. Maybe one of them swam. Maybe one of them was on the field hockey team. He shook that second one off. If there was one thing Jason was known for, it was being the only male field hockey player in the school. Possibly the only one in the state. Maybe he had just never talked to either of them through four years of secondary school. That last one was quite likely, as there were, what, over 300 seniors? Outside of lunch, athletics, or class, he blended in with the furniture. Still, they seemed pretty cool.

"And who might you two be?"

David nodded. It wasn't really all that difficult to place Jason, now that he could remember his name: he did have a British accent, how often did one of those creep up in Minnesota?

Of course, there was that girl with the French accent, so perhaps it happened more often than David thought...

He shook himself out of his stupor. "David Meramac," he said, extending a hand and grinning broadly. "Running nerd."

"If you've got time to do stuff outside school and you're still beatin' me down, I'm kinda embarassed."

Kale fidgeted a little.

"See, that's the thing. When I'm not at school...I'm running around town." He ran a hand through his hair. "Hell, can barely keep still these days. My feet itch too damn much..."

"Ah, where are my manners? Jason Clarke."

Ah, that was it. The freerunner nodded to himself. It was on the tip of his tongue.

"David Meramac," he said, extending a hand and grinning broadly. "Running nerd."

Kale couldn't help but grin at that.

"I'm Kale Richardson...I'm part of the Baseball team," he smiled alittle. "I recognised your face, don't think I ever got to the intro', though." The teen had to laugh despite himself. "You know, it's getting close to the end of the year and I'm only now getting to know you guys." He felt kind of stupid.

"David Meramac. Running nerd."

Jason took David's hand and pumped it, reveling in the mirth that David, like himself, was a fellow geek, nerd, whatever. Maybe not in the same way ... Jason himself took to automobiles and any game where alliances and trust were at a premium, while David could have an interest in comics, roleplaying games, hell, one of his friends back home was an expert in all things related to porn. Besides, David seemed like a nice guy.

"I'm Kale Richardson...I'm part of the Baseball team ... You know, it's getting close to the end of the year and I'm only now getting to know you guys."

Jason pumped Kale's hand, looking back on it. In truth, Kale was right. While he probably had ample opportunity to socialize with the members of his class, he had never really done so.

"Quite right. The tragedy of focusing on ourselves." He paused awkwardly for a moment, realizing he might have stuck his foot into his mouth. "Not blaming you guys. I've spent more time working on my car than I've spent on the field hockey, swim and track teams. Possibly all of those combined."