To the Track and Back

by Peter Joseph Bonasso

We’re going on a six-mile run today, so I set my watch

to ensure at any point I could see our pace.

My muscles are still patterned in microtears from yesterday’s race,

and I can already feel my face moisten from the beads of sweat

drooling through my pores even though we just left the track.

Hopefully, we can at least stop to stretch.

After a mile or so, a freshman named Aaron asks, “Could we eventually stop to
stretch?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” I affirm when I see “6:45 minutes/mile” on my watch.

But Levi, a junior, has different thoughts. “Uhhhh this is track,

We’re not gonna cater to your weakness just to ruin our pace.”

I curse under my breath. My shirtless skin is now fully drenched in sweat

as if I were still pumping my legs through the 1600 meter race.

Worries of heat exhaustion and dehydration race

through my head when we blaze by the park where we normally stretch.

Yet somehow, sticking with the pack like gum to a school desk is no sweat.

To my amazement, I now read “6:30 minutes/mile” on my watch.

“Damn boys, we’re cooking!” I exclaim. “If we can keep this pace,

then a sub-5 minute mile should be no problem on the track!”

As we summit the penultimate hill of our run, I begin to track

Kevin, who tends to make our long journeys into races,

and when he moseys up to the front, I don’t care what the pace is,

I’m gonna catch him! I stretch

my legs like an ostrich and move closer while I watch

his every stride, ignoring the pesky drops of sweat

in my eyes. I can sense him sweating

an unknown presence, whose feet pound his tracks.

I shout through shaky breath, “You better watch

your back! I’m on the attack!” I race

right to his side, and soon our legs stretch

in time, not fazed by the final hill but ready to keep pace.

The slope steepens fast but Kevin and I keep pacing

each other, our faces tattooed with sweat

rings, and we sprint like lunatics to where the hill stretches

to the sky. Not more than 400 meters away is the track,

our final destination! The dead heat of our race

is about to culminate, from the corner of my eye I watch

Kevin lunging forward with all his might, and he watches

me do the same. We crash into the service drive and our race

ends in a tie, both of us happy to have returned to the track.