Back in high school I wasn’t the most active kid. Both physically and socially. The few friends I had encouraged me to join the cross-country team with them for the upcoming fall season. They said it was easy way to make new friends while also being part of a team. As far as the sport was concerned the rules were simple. Just run. At their insistence I joined the team and before I knew it it was the night before our first team practice.
I sat down for dinner with my parents that evening and decided to break the news to them. My mom’s face widened in a smile, clearly happy with news. My dad dropped his fork mid chew and stared ahead with a glazed look in his eyes. This elicited a reaction for both my mom and me. We both just glanced at him waiting for him to snap out of this trance.
“Why would you do a thing like that?” My dad finally spoke.
I gave him my reasoning and he sat silently and nodded while my mom glared at him. I was surprised by his reaction. My dad had run for the team back in his high school days. Even went on to earn a scholarship for college. I thought he would be overjoyed to hear his son was following in his footsteps. On the contrary it was like my words had stabbed him directly in the heart. After I said my piece he collected himself and finally spoke up.
“Do they still have you run the loop at the Nesbit Trail?” He asked.
I nodded. The Nesbit Trail was only a ten-minute walk from the high school. Well maintained, the trail was wide enough for groups to run side by side and pass without difficulty.
He took a deep breath before he spoke again.
“Listen if you are going through with this you must understand one thing. It is very important son. Do not end up in the back of the pack. Always make sure you have at least two or three guys behind you. If you feel someone breathing down your neck don’t look back. Keep your eyes forward and just pick up your pace.”
Interesting advice from dad who looked like he was coming out of a shell shock episode. Maybe it was his way of passing down his advice. After what happened the next day, I doubt that.
We had just finished our stretches and warm up. So far so good. I was getting to know the guys on the team and becoming more comfortable. Then it was time for our long team run. Down the Nesbit Trail. Two miles in and two miles back. I was nervous but I was far from the only one. The more seasoned runners told us just to pace ourselves. As we lined up to enter the woods my dad’s words reverberated in my head.
“Do not end up in the back of the pack.”
As the last word crossed my mind our coach blew the whistle and I took off.
I was surprised how well I was doing. Maybe it was my dad’s good genes. Maybe it the spirit of good-hearted competition. As we reached the first mile marker I was cruising. By the next mile my fast start had caught up to me big time and I slowed down, a lot. As more runners passed me I could see the looks of disappointment on their faces. I wasn’t too concerned about that. I was trying to keep a mental count of how many runners were still behind me. By the time I was on my final mile I had lost track of how many of the guys had passed by me. That’s when I felt the hot breath on my neck.
I heard the labored breathing right in my ear drum. The sound of the patter of gaining steps mixed with the crumble of wet leaves. I so desperately wanted to turn around but something stopped me. Some animalistic instinct inside screamed that turning around would end badly. With the adrenaline coursing through my veins I picked up the pace. After a few minutes the footsteps came to a stop but I got the distinct feeling of eyes staring through my back as I ran.
When I finally reached the start I saw the rest of the group huddled together sitting on the ground and I dove collapsing in front of them. They all jeered and laughed. They said how it’s always the new guys who went out too fast and burn out. I just sat on the ground and took it all.
The coach approached the circle said good practice and dismissed us with me still on the ground. When I finally got up the only one left was one of the seniors on the team, Mitch. The tall and lanky figure stared at me with the same serious look my dad gave me at dinner.
“You should really learn to stick with a group. It doesn’t approach us when we stay in groups. It let you get away this time but if you fall behind again you won’t be so lucky.”
I asked him what it was and how he knew about it?
“I don’t know what it is. No one does. But we all have felt it stalking us out there on the trail at one time or another. My dad was the first one to tell me about it. He said a kid back in his day saw what it looked like. They all asked him what he saw but the kid wouldn’t say a word. The kid changed after that. Ran like his life depended on it. Became the best runner on the team. Never finished in the back of the pack again.”