Read Online Fast Company by Rich Wallace - Free Book Online

was sitting just off his shoulder. Serrano. The only one who could be breathing that easily at this pace.
    Nearly everyone in the Armory was standing and yelling now as the leaders moved toward the end of the third lap. Kamalu held the lead, with Wu right on his shoulder. Manny and Serrano were less than a stride behind. The others had begun to fall back.
    The bell sounded and Serrano sprinted past Manny. The pain was nothing compared to last time; Manny still felt strong. It was a matter of speed now. He wasn’t going to die.
    Down the backstretch, Manny stayed with the leaders. Coming off the final turn, Kamalu, Serrano, and Wu were fanned out over the first three lanes of the track, with Manny inches behind. He was tying up, but so were the others. He dug deep, churning his arms. Serrano and Kamalu pulled away, but Manny nearly caught Wu at the finish.
    He stepped off the track and bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. He shut his eyes again and felt the warmth spreading over his face and ears. What an effort. He felt all right. He opened his eyes and stood tall.
    Serrano was next to him, shaking his head and frowning. Oscar Kamalu had his arms raised toward a section of the bleachers where his teammates were standing and applauding.
    “Better this week than next, I suppose,” Serrano said. “If you’re going to lose, don’t lose the big one.”
    The runners turned toward the giant score-board at the far end of the Armory, where the times of the leaders were already being posted.
    1-2: 14.7 2-2: 14.8 3-2:16.1 4-2:16.2
    Kamalu had run the fastest time of the winter, but Manny’s 2:16 was also impressive. He shook his fist and said, “Yeah.” He could go another second or two faster. He’d definitely be in contention at the championships.
    By the time Sherry raced ten minutes later, Manny had recovered. He found a spot along the backstretch and kneeled at the side of the track, yelling for his teammate each time she ran past.
    Sherry’s hard work was paying off, too. Like Manny, she stayed near the leaders for most of the race. But she didn’t quite have the finishing speed of the others and wound up fifth.
    Manny hustled across the track, scooted around the high-jump mat, and picked up Sherry’s T-shirt. He caught up to her and handed her the shirt. She kept walking and wiped her face with it.
    “My legs feel like spaghetti,” she said. She dropped to her knees. “I’m dizzy.”
    “It goes away,” Manny said, gripping her arm. “You should keep moving.”
    “Okay,” she said, getting to her feet. “Stay with me.”
    “No problem.”
    They walked a slow lap between the track and the outside wall, with Sherry’s spiked shoes clicking on the wooden floor.
    “You ran a good race,” she said after a few minutes.
    “You, too.” Manny hesitated for a few seconds before adding, “Very tough.”
    Sherry raised her eyebrows. “That’s me,” she said. “Toughest girl in New Jersey.”
    “You are who you are,” Manny said. “Don’t compromise because of what others think.”
    “I know.”
    They reached the shot-put area, back behind the far turn. Anthony and a group of other competitors were waiting for the older throwers to finish. Anthony was slumped against the wall, staring into space. He gave a tiny nod of recognition as Manny and Sherry came over.
    “You ready?” Manny asked.
    “Very ready,” Anthony said. “This is the worst part, waiting to get started.”
    “Yeah,” Manny said. The anxiety before a competition was brutal. You got so keyed up, so worried that you’d fail. Then the event began, and it was such a release just to be out there competing. “Hang in there, Anthony. Stay focused.”
    Anthony nodded again and looked at his hands. Even good-natured Anthony was obviously feeling some tension.
    Sherry put her hand on Manny’s back and applied some pressure. “Gotta keep walking,” she said. “Do the job, Anthony. We’ll come back and watch you