Marathon Man by Bill Rodgers Read Free Book Online Page A

running effort and didn’t see things in the environment around him. I was able to run with a more relaxed stride—“flowing” is the word Amby always thought of when he watched me run. I gazed all around me as I ran, whether it was at clouds drifting in the sky or birds nestling in the trees. I was always finding stuff that Amby never noticed: money on the road and things like that. I’d stop to pick up items on the side of the road, which I think drove Amby crazy. Running never felt like a chore to me; it was the opposite. Pure fun. I would run along the country road, singing the words of my favorite song to myself. “Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say, it’s all right.”
    Amby studied me closely, like I was some rare species of bird. For all his dedication and hard work, he was cursed to never know what it felt like to run effortlessly. He had to maintain his concentration as he ran and focus hard on every step he took. As he moved alongside me, he wondered, how was it that I could float along the road the way I did? I had no idea. I was just doing what I’d always done. I didn’t know any other way to be. Ever since I was a kid, running felt as natural to me as breathing.
    When we were boys, my brother, Charlie, and I would spend entire days running wild, or as wild as possible in our quiet, leafy suburban town of Newington, Connecticut. Our best friend, Jason Kehoe, who lived down the block from us on Thornton Drive, and who we’d known since we were two years old, always joined us on our boundless adventures. We were the three amigos, the Three Musketeers, inseparable.
    We hiked trails, fished ponds, and played out our childhood fantasies in the thick woods behind our house. These woods were made for pint-size cowboys, junior pirates, and intrepid explorers. I’d bound over logs, rocks, and bushes. Sometimes we’d run around with bows and arrows, hunting for turtles, frogs, and snakes. We were like the tribe of rag-taggle Lost Boys in Peter Pan . God knows how many miles we covered! I’ve heard that Kenyan children are very active. It’s normal for them to run to and from school and the market. No one walks, everyone runs. That’s the way we were. We were always moving.
    I think I enjoyed running even more than my brother and the other neighborhood kids. It suited my personality. I had all this energy and wasn’t so good at directing it. I was always bouncing off the walls and hanging from the rafters. I found it difficult to sit in a classroom for eight hours each day. I preferred to be outdoors where I could burn off energy. I definitely had some form of ADHD. Today, I would have been given Ritalin. But back then, I was just a kid who couldn’t sit still. My family and friends would just sigh and say with a little grin, That’s Bill for ya. Always getting into something.
    Charlie was the oldest among us, and the leader of our group. He was often cautioning Jason and me not to carry through with whatever dubious, high-flying action we were about to undertake. He might, for example, say to us, “Well, the farmer is rapidly approaching us on his tractor and he doesn’t look too happy about you eating his corn, and maybe you shouldn’t be taunting him as he bears down on us.” Charlie would sprint away while Jason and I would continue to make faces at the farmer for another thirty seconds, before getting away by the skin of our teeth.
    I was a notorious teaser, Tom Sawyer style. Sometimes I pushed too far, like the time I stood on my front lawn, taunting our neighbor Gerald with goofy faces. He stood glowering back at me across the street on his lawn. At once, Gerald marched over. There was a look of murder in his eyes. He clearly intended to punch me in the face. Gerald sprang on top of me, sending us rolling on the ground. Out of nowhere, Charlie rushed over and said, “You gotta get off, man! You’re not