False Start (Boyxboy)

8: GUYS GO ROUGH

Coach wasn't kidding about putting us through some hard-hitting work-outs.  Even our pre-run stretching session was tougher than usual.  He sat us single file in the grass and pushed into our backs as we reached for our toes, bending us to the point of gritting our teeth and praying that a tendon wouldn't snap. 

Then we took a tour of camp in the form of an Indian run, forced to yell military chants as we jogged, conditioning our lung capacity.  It was embarrassing how soon I was winded by the frigid air, choking for dry breaths with my friend right behind me.  That embarrassment was exacerbated when he patted my sweaty shoulder and panted out, "Come on, Kazuhiko!" 

When I'd envisioned us sharing words of encouragement, it had been more of a mutual thing. 

Some of the guys, especially Hiro, more or less sprinted when it was their turn to lead.  Keiji did it too, pushing us into a hellish race pace.  Yamamoto praised them as he loped alongside the team, leading our cheers, and things quickly became competitive.  The day, which I'd thought would bring bonding, let me down from the get-go.

By the time the last runner had dashed to the front, our legs had turned to lead and our faces had paled dramatically, streaked with sweat and discolored patches of pink.  Most of us hung our heads at awkward angles, gaping like fish out of water.  If someone had overheard us in the distance, they would have thought that there was a massive brawl going on; our feet slapped with heavy thuds against the ground and guttural yells of exhaustion were cried out between the breaks in our sentences.  The veins in our necks bulged when we replied to the last of Coach's calls.  However, that was just the warm-up.

We stopped at a water spigot by the basketball courts, taking turns gulping from it and splashing the cold liquid on the backs of our necks.  Then we picked our knees back up and veered off into the woods for a five-mile trail run.

Coach Yamamoto said that the goal was for no man to be left behind.  He wanted the varsity runners to slow a bit and the JV guys to try turning their legs over more rapidly.  As we ran in a cluster, dodging roots in the ground, the sun started to sink in the sky, casting speckles of shadows over us and cooling our damp bodies.  I was repeating the lyrics to songs in my head and counting the toll of my steps, desperately attempting to distract myself.  For a few minutes I managed to stay beside Keiji, but Mori gracefully passed us with his gazelle-like posture and my friend winked at me, pushing onward and away to follow suit.

There you go, leaving me behind again.

Rage pounded in my ears.

Once we finally made it back to our cabin, there was a metallic blood-like taste on my tongue and my vision was blurry from exasperation.  Adrenaline had me feeling aggressive and alive.  The moon had risen and stars littered the sky, casting a blueish light on the world.  This intoxicating buzz of exhilaration settled upon us all.

"Good run, boys," Coach congratulated us.  "Now we have one last exercise before dinner."

On cue, I realized how hungry I was, but I wasn't ready to let the day end on this note.  I wanted to take advantage of the electrically stimulating mood.

"We're going to split into two teams, three of you varsity runners on each, and play a night game of capture the flag."

I clasped my hands behind my head, my chest rising and falling as a roguish glint appeared in my eyes.  I'm sure that Coach meant for it to be a team-building experience, but the heightened levels of testosterone made it just the opposite.

Keiji tugged on my sweater, pulling me to his side and telling me I was on his team.  He did the same with Yo, draping his arms over our shoulders as we listened to the rules.  Part of me wished that we could compete against each other, that I'd have an excuse to tackle him to the dirt, but another part was ready to get serious and sneak around together.