The Marathoner: A Short Story

Always Running is a narrative written by Luis J. Rodriguez because he wanted people to understand what life, is like out on the streets. Rodriguez witnesses his friends being killed, shot at and beaten down. He lived the lifestyle of a convict, stealing, doing drugs and learning to use a gun. Rodriguez didn’t know better than to be part of a gang and live the “thug life”. Language barrier, unemployment, poor education and family disinvolvement were some of the factors that had an impact in his involvement in gangs. Fortunately, help came his way and he was able to break the suppression of gang involvement and was able to better his life style.

One of the most significant battles in antiquity was fought on the narrow, tree strewn plain of Marathon, in September, 490 BC. There, the Athenian army defeated a Persian force more than twice its size, because of superior leadership, training and equipment. The battle of Marathon has provided inspiration to the underdogs throughout history. In 490 BC, the Athenians proved that superior strategy, and technology can claim victory over massive numbers.

The tide was coming in and there was only a narrow strip of firm beach between the water and the white, stumbling stuff near the palm terrace. Ralph chose the firm strip as a path because he needed to think, and only here could he allow his feet to move without having to watch them. Suddenly, pacing by the water, he was overcome with astonishment. He found himself understanding the wearisomeness of this life, where every path was an improvisation and a considerable part of one 's waking life was spent watching one 's feet. He stopped, facing the strip; and remembering that first enthusiastic exploration as though it were part of a brighter childhood, he smiled jeeringly. He turned then and walked back toward the platform with the sun in his face. The time had come for the assembly and as he walked into the concealing splendors of the sunlight he went carefully over the points of his speech. There must be no mistake about this assembly, no chasing imaginary. . . .

It's the day before the big Lake Fork bass tournament. John Noah is getting prepared. He has already cleaned up his boat and is rigging up a swimbait on his favorite carrot stick rod with his favorite lews reel on it. Next John got all his tackle together, he had to take his time choosing lures because of the certain depths in the lake. He got some topwaters for shallow water, some deep diving crank baits for deeper water, and some swimbaits and spinnerbaits for medium depth. Then he double checked everything and made sure it was all in the right place.

Michelle and I arrived on a beautiful San Diego day at North Harbor Drive near the Coronado Broadway Pier. We parked somewhat far away because it was a busy day on the harbor. Walking towards the ship, we witnessed street performers doing all sorts of entertaining things that created a fun atmosphere. Some were blowing up balloons for kids, while others were playing their instruments, filling the air with a sweet melody. Walking along this beautiful parkway, looking out at the blue waters crashing against the docks, I could not help but realize how blessed and grateful I am to be free in such a great nation.

“Hey, what are you doing.” Chloe said as she walked over to Kara on the track behind the school after school was over.

Cresting the hill, I struggled with my ragged breathing and the pain in my hips. I focused on my rhythm I in order to keep going. My running shoes slapped the pavement as onlookers expressed their encouragement with cowbells and cheers. I wondered again why I put myself into the situation by choice. As I passed mile 13 I remembered. I felt my eyes water and my legs shake as the finish line approached. Marines in uniform stood ready with medals and smiles as they encouraged us in our own hardships to rise above the pain and finish. The announcer spoke my name but I hardly heard him as a medal slipped over my head and I marveled at the weight, not of the medal, but the accomplishment which seemed impossible for the past three hours. I finished in 3 hours, 7 minutes. It was not an Olympic record and I detested running at mile two, but I did it.

I want to accomplish this goal in my twenties before I have a family. I want to backpack around Europe to become closer to nature and appreciate the different cultures. I want to explore beyond small-town Iowa.

William watched Tabitha climb out of the hot tub. He took in a long, full look at her ass. She stood at the edge of the hot tub, wringing water from her ponytail. Droplets of water trickled down over Tabitha’s chest and stomach. William watched Tabitha’s body steam in the frigid air, the night’s icy fingers tickled her body, tightening her flesh and firming her nipples. She walked around the side of the hot tub and sat down next to William, dipping her feet into the water. William felt the flesh of her thigh rub against his shoulder.

In the rural southern town of Wrongberight humidly hung in the air as thick as the mud that lay upon the earth. The town had been experiencing torrential rains for the last couple of days and another storm was approaching from the northeast. One of the locals, Clemmy Sue Jarvis, whose stands just a tad taller than a pinecone and weighs less than a pine needle, would rather dance with old man Jackson’s jackass than drive on the rain soaked roads. However, late Saturday afternoon she has no alternative, but to cautiously, ease out of her driveway, turn south onto Flat Bottom Road and follow it along the edge of Dismal Swamp towards the isolated home of her lifelong friend Estelle Louise.

As a child, the narrator overlooks his father’s volatile behavior because of his innocence and eagerness to feel wanted. During a family trip to a lake, the narrator and his mother ride on his father’s back because they are unable to swim. At one point during the swim, the father lets go of the narrator and watches as the narrator and his mother struggle not to drown. The narrator becomes attached to this memory because, ironically, it is one of his father's most notable acts of love. Despite nearly drowning, the narrator’s

The Battle of Marathon was fought around 490 BC. It was the joined powers of the Athens and Plataea armies against King Darius' Persian Army. The war began when Darius ordered the Persian Army to invade Greece because he was seeking revenge after the Athenians had sent aid to Lonia in a revolt against the Persians.The Persian armies had defeated Ionian, they then turned their attention on Greece for attempting to help out there former enemy. The first oder of business they toke care of was the capturing of Eritrea , who had helped the Athenian forces.The Greek were heavily outnumbered in armed forces but after five long days of battle, the Greek Army managed to defeat the Persians and King Darius. King Darius tried vividly to rebuild another

It took my breath away. We were on a cliff edge made of sharp, black lava rock. The hotel lobby looked out onto the ocean. I cherished this moment. The waves were calming and water looked as if it was dancing beneath the sunlight. It was a rich, blue in some spots and in others a bright, aquamarine, light green. Streaks of purple and turquoise speckled on the surface on the water. I hadn’t seen anything like it before. The shimmering, creamy, white sand gleamed in the sun’s heat. As the blue waves crashed against the black lava rock, the water sprang into the air shooting a light mist in the sky. The Grand Bliss truly is a beautiful destination. Waiting for our hotel room to be ready my family and I walked down to the beach to a little seating place called Mandy’s. I loved the feeling of the warm sand squishing under my feet it made my calf muscles clench to keep myself balanced. I stopped walking just before the tide touched my toes. I craved the water touching my skin so, at that exact moment so I tore off my tank top that I was wearing on top of my bathing suit and just stood there taking it all in, the sun on my bare tanned shoulders, the warm, comfortable sand beneath my feet, and the insane need to jump into the salty

This book follows the life of well renowned marathon runner, Alberto Salazar, and delves into his early childhood, his traumatic near death experience, and his legendary accomplishments as a marathon runner. Step by step readers are walked through Alberto’s personal life, offering readers a front row seat to the very interworking’s of his mind. As a child, Alberto struggled with shyness and insecurities about his physic. No one would have guessed that a tiny lanky kid from a small town in Massachusetts would become the greatest distance runner of all time. Growing up Salazar faced many challenges that would eventually mold him into the strong runner that he is. One of these difficulties surrounded Salazar’s fathers and his close relationship with Dictator Fidel Castro. This disagreement along with other family issues fueled their discontentment with each other. Born in 1958, Alberto was alive during a very

Challenging and exhilarating. Difficult and glorious. Inspiring and empowering. Childbirth and marathons. No one ever said either one was easy, but most everyone agrees that each effort is well worth the pain. One mom who has undertaken both activities in her lifetime illustrates how comparable and rewarding she found the experiences to be.