2 Mason and I run shoulder to shoulder, stride for stride, Just 200 meters left. Sweat streams down my face. If I drive forward, could I outdistance Mason? I want to give ita go. Then again, Mason might not like it if 1 beat him. In the last 100, Mason surges ahead. I keep my pace and finish six steps behind. “Decent,” Mason says between breaths. “Keep your head up next time.” Mason is a year ahead of me, so he has more experience. Coach Goucher waves us over. “You both knocked half a second off your times.” He shows us his dlipboard. “Running together pushes you harder.” Pasting the Limits “Cool. With Neil, ll break a minute for sure.” Mason nods at me. Inod back, but I'm more worried about the first meet. In school the next day, all I can think about is the meet. By 2:30, when we board the bus, P'm wishing I hadn't ‘eaten pepperoni pizza for lunch. My stomach is doing things stomachs aren't supposed to do. Before the meet begins, our team gathers on the cool grass to streteh, It smells like rain, Good. I run well in the rain. “Remember, keep that head up,” Mason says. Igrin. ‘My first event is the 100-meter, The whistle blows and I explode into a sprint. The rain is cool on my face. Mason and I are neck and neck. I'm running strong. pull my knees high and drive forward, staying right next to Mason, Should I try to move ahead? I've never done that before. I cross the finish line just after ‘Mason. I'm second again. Pushing the Limits 3Should | try to move ahead? A couple of the guys slap me on the back. Second is good, but I'm tired of second. I'm the starter in the 4x100 relay. I wipe my hands on my shorts so-I won’t drop the baton. ‘The guys from the other schools look me over. ‘They want to win, too. Iget a great start. My stride is smooth. The crowd cheers as I pull ahead of the pack. My pass-off to ‘Teagan is perfect. We still end up in second. Iwalk off the track. “Coach, what was my time?” “Let me see.” Coach checks his clipboard. “12.9.” ‘That's only two-tenths of a second slower than my individual time, and that includes slowing down to pass the baton. I glance at Mason sitting in the bleachers. Mason beat me by three-tenths in the 100. If Pd given it my all, I might have beaten him. 4. ushog the Umits sip my water so I don’t get cramps. Could I beat Mason, the fastest runner in the school? There's only ‘one way to find out, At the next meet. Coach approaches me. “Jack twisted his ankle. He can’t run the 400. There's a lane free, How about “Tve only run the 400 a few times,” I say. “You've got a lot left, Neil,” Coach says. “I can see it.” T glance at Mason again, then nodl at Coach. Looks like I won't have to wait until the next meet after all. ‘They announce the 4o0-meter, and we take our positions. I look at Mason. “I'm going for it,” I say. “Bring it,” Mason says. As the whistle blares, I pour on the power. I start ‘out strong. Too strong, because suddenly I'm in the lead. But Tlike seeing no one in front of me. Pasting the Lines 5é I'm only a few paces behind Mason. ‘Then I geta stitch in my side. I slow on the second turn, Mason pulls besidle me. I hear his rhythmie breathing. I try matching his stride, but he inches ahead. With 150 meters left, 'm third in a pack of six. My legs burn, T fall back to fourth. Mason moves into first. I see him tilt his chin up. I grit my teeth and raise my head. My muscles scream, but I overtake two runners. T'monly a few paces behind Mason. I train my eyes on the back of his jersey. In the last 100, Mason breaks ahead, builds his lead. I speed up, too, but not enough. Mason finishes ahead of me. I come in second. Again. Pasting the Lins Coach's whistle bounces on his chest as he jogs over. “Respectable,” Coach says as he gives me a high five, “That second turn is tough. Stay on the inside of your lane next time. And on the baekstretch, focus ona solid running tempo. That'll help maintain your speed.” “Thanks, Coach,” I say. Second was respectable in the 400. But not for the 100, Not anymore ‘Mason heads over. “We got first and second.” Smiling, he holds out his fist to pound mine. “You almost brought it home,” Itap my fist to his and laugh. “Maybe next time Twill.” Pushing the Limits 7