To A Sprinter, The Hundred-yard Dash Is

It Dawned On Me With Blinding Brightness. I Realized: I Had Jumped Into Another Rare Kind Of Stratosphere - One That Only A Handful Of People In Every Generation Are Lucky Enough To Know.

Although I Wasn't Invited To Shake Hands With Hitler, I Wasn't Invited To The White House To Shake Hands With The President Either.

Running Is Real. It’s All Joy And Woe, Hard As Diamond. It Makes You Weary Beyond Comprehension, But It Also Makes You Free.

I Fought, I Fought Harder . . . But One Cell At A Time, Panic Crept Into My Body, Taking Me Over.

I'd Noticed Him Watching Me For A Year Or So, Especially When We'd Play Games Where There Was Running Or Jumping.