Read Fast Company for Free Online Page B

after school. He was feeling good about his performance in Sunday’s meet. He’d made an all-out effort and had nothing left at the end, but Coach assured him that he’d get faster with more training and a bit more racing experience.
    Running under 2:20 in just his second 800-meter race was a great indication of Manny’s potential. A guy like Serrano, for example, had three years of racing under his belt. Manny was still a novice, but he knew he’d be ready for the championship race in February.
    After dinner, Manny sat down at the computer and found the Armory Web site. He clicked on Results. A listing of various meets, mostly high school and college, came up on the screen. He found the youth development meet from the previous Saturday and scrolled through, looking for the results of the eleven-twelve boys’ 800.
    There it was. Serrano had won the race, but he must have had quite a battle:
    1. Kester Serrano 2:15.8
    2. Ryan Wu 2:15.9
    3. Oscar Kamalu 2:16.2
    4. Mario Torres 2:17.4
    5. Lyndon Duncan 2:19.9
    Manny stared at the screen. Four guys had run faster than he had, and there were five others at 2:22 or better. Serrano was right; there were a lot of quick runners around.
    Manny had felt like a big deal winning that New Jersey race. Clearly, the guys across the river were running at a higher level.
    Manny shut off the computer and climbed the stairs to his room. He checked the schedule Coach Alvaro had given him. They’d be running at the Armory again in two weeks.
    Against Serrano and the rest of them.

10
    Froot Loops
    T he team trained hard for the next two weeks. Coach Alvaro had Manny concentrate on building his endurance, alternating distance runs with sessions on the track.
    “I think you can run with anybody in the region,” Coach told him. “Sure, they’ve run faster times than you have, but we’ll see what happens when you go head-to-head.”
    That chance arrived quickly. Manny found himself in the 800-meters at a Saturday morning development meet at the Armory. More than fifty runners were signed up for the event. Manny was among the eight told to report for the top-seeded section.
    Kester Serrano looked up at Manny from his seat on the floor, stretching out his legs. “Hey,” he said softly, nodding.
    Manny let out his breath. “Hey.”
    “Tough field,” Serrano said.
    “Yeah. That Wu?” Manny asked, jutting his chin toward a tall Asian kid warming up nearby.
    “Yep.” Serrano pointed toward some other runners. “Bertone and Kamalu. The boys are all here, Manuel.”
    A roundish official with short dark hair and a microphone said, “Let’s go, gentlemen. On the track.”
    Manny had drawn lane two, sandwiched between Wu and Bertone. He knew he’d have to get out quickly. Everybody in the race had put up fast times already this winter.
    “Runners set!”
    Manny leaned forward. He was the shortest one out there.
    The gun went off and the runners darted from the line. Manny tried to squeeze ahead of Bertone, but the bigger runner extended his arm and pushed his elbow into Manny’s ribs. It didn’t hurt and Manny kept his balance, but he was forced to stay in the second lane as they rounded the first turn.
    Manny dropped back slightly on the backstretch and made his way to the inside lane. All eight runners were fast, and they were moving as a unit. The first lap went by in 33 seconds, with Manny running third behind Bertone and a runner in a yellow jersey.
    Serrano came cruising by midway through the second lap, looking very smooth and in control. Manny was already feeling the pace, struggling just slightly.
    They passed the midpoint in 66. Manny’s goal in this race was 2:16, but the competition was more important than the time. He needed to show himself that he could take these guys.
    The third lap hurt like crazy, but Manny stuck with the leaders. Bertone continued to set the pace, with Serrano second and Kamalu now third.
    “1:41,” came the call as Manny finished his third lap,