Date: Wed, 29 Jun 2005 14:28:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: Andrew Howard <avehoward@yahoo.com>
Subject: Highland Lakes Cross-country, Part 1

Copyright--Nifty.org

Disclaimer--If you are underaged in your community or if you object to
homosexual content, then don't read this novella. You know the scoop kids.



Chapter One

JD Maynard was a runner. And comparatively speaking, he was a good
runner. If you were to place the entire human race in a five kilometer
footrace, JD would finish ahead of 95% of the competition. But then
comparatively speaking, he was only average, or even worse, mediocre. In
the competitive arena in which he found himself, the rolling golf courses
on which high school cross-country is run, at best he was a
middle-of-the-packer. He was not slow enough to be one of those who trailed
far behind the rest of the race and when approaching the finish line and
thus be the recipient of the dreaded pity clap. No, he was just a faceless
athlete, toiling in anonymity. Yet JD loved his sport. He loved running and
all that came with it. He loved the endorphin rush that came on the heels
of a well-run workout; he loved the pumping adrenaline that coursed through
his body before a race; he loved the camaraderie that he felt with his
teammates. For while JD Maynard was not the fleetest of foot, he was one of
those kids who were labeled "a good worker" because JD tried hard. He knew
that his talent was not going to be enough to get him and his team to where
he wanted them to be, so he tried to compensate for that by throwing vast
amounts of effort into his running. Though for all of his efforts, JD could
not overcome one thing: his doubts. Doubts that lurked beneath the surface
of his face, suffused with blood from his straining efforts on the interval
fields. Doubts that caused him to unwittingly place limitations on himself
and doubts that bubbled up during his races and taunted him, saying "You're
not good enough. What do you think that you are doing at this level? Give
up. Don't wallow in this pain." JD Maynard realized that he had these
doubts and tried so very hard to get rid of them. But he could not. Oh, how
the boy wished that he could be like Steve Glineberg, confident, strong and
fast. If not for those doubts.

Steven Glineberg was everything that JD Maynard was not. A senior, he
lorded over the Highland Lakes High School cross-country team. Not because
he was an imperious boy by nature but because he was fast. He had been born
genetically blessed. His lung capacity was superb and his legs were muscled
with the perfect balance of slow- and fast-twitch muscles that separate the
great 5k runners from those who are merely good. Undisputedly, he had the
talent to be the state champion. But did he have the desire? Sure he worked
hard, though not as hard, mind you, as JD Maynard, but Steve had the luxury
of being able to cruise during an interval set or tempo run and still
perform amazingly when the time came for racing. Steven was basically set
for life; while he was not a straight-A student, he was no dunce. He
managed to pull of mostly Bs with a few As while putting just enough effort
in. This was all that he needed; his college future had been secured by
multiple scholarship offers from decent cross-country programs at Division
I programs across the country. Glineberg had reasoned to himself that when
he reached college, he would be able to turn up his effort level in his
studies in order that he graduate with some distinction and move onto law
school. Yes, Steven Glineberg was a young man with both his future and his
present firmly in hand. On the other hand, his teammate was far from being
so secure. JD knew that no program would offer money to a kid who was only
doing 18:30 5ks, so his hopes rested in his studies. And he did very well
there, maintaining a GPA of nearly 4.0. So academically he was sitting
pretty, but between his efforts to maintain his studies and improve his
running, JD Maynard did not have much of a social life.

He did have one good friend, Adam Rutman, who was two years younger and a
runner on the JV team. Adam was not at all concerned with his times in
cross-country; it was not his true sport. Rather, it was an excuse to be
sociable with what was by all accounts, one fun team. The team was the only
thing that kept him sane while running. His father had been a number one
runner on the Highland Lakes team back in the 1970s and expected his only
son to carry on his legacy. That was why Adam originally became a
runner. His father was not the type to unfairly pressure his son with
verbal pressure, but it was just understood that Adam would run
cross-country. And with the team, Adam had no problems living up to his end
of the 'bargain.' Adam's real love was his winter sport, diving. He had
been a diver for five years and was really growing into his sport
well. After all, he had the build for it. Of average height and a very lean
body, he could whip somersaults like it was nobody's business. In several
years, he would blossom into one of the top divers in the state; for the
moment, he was content to do what he loved.

It was the August before the senior years of JD Maynard and Steven
Glineberg. Several days earlier, cross-country practice had officially
begun. The beginning of school was still two weeks off, so the team was
able to utilize the mornings for their practices to avoid the stifling
humidity of the Upper Midwest. Now the twenty or so runners on the team
were sitting in the hallway outside of the boys' locker room awaiting the
workout from their coach. Jed Carlson had been the cross-country coach at
Highland Lakes for well over a decade and he knew exactly what he was
doing. A popular teacher, he had very few detractors in the Highland Lakes
community. He was tough but fair, an adept teacher but challenging. He was
a devoted family man and volunteered on weekends at his church. Yes indeed,
Mr. Carlson was a paragon of society. Promptly at 9:00, Carlson came out of
his office and addressed the team. "Okay guys, those last two days were
pretty easy. Now we are going to find out what kind of preparation you guys
have put in over the summer. We're going to be doing 1000 meter repeats
over at West Park. These are going to be at a hard pace, but not quite race
pace. Y'all will have 3 minutes of jogging recovery after each one. I want
the junior high kids to do four, you JV guys will have six, the varsity
guys will do eight and Glineberg and Winden," referring to the two top
runners on the squad, "you guys will have nine. These aren't meant to leave
you half-dead, but you'll definitely be feeling the effects afterward. Now
all of you are going to run down there together. Two-and-a-half mile
warmup. Go."

There was a little grumbling from the athletes, but that is to be expected
when a hard workout is lined up. The younger runners were somewhat
intimidated but to JD and Steve who had done this type of workout before,
there was only a workman-like shouldering of the workload. Despite the
early time, the runners found that the temperatures were already quite
warm, owing to the obscene humidity levels of the area. But after a summer
of training (some more diligently than others), they were mostly used to it
and shrugged it off. Down at the park, Coach Carlson had set up a course
that basically traced the boundary of the park, complete with little
zigzags to avoid the inconveniently-located parking lots. After a brief
break to re-hydrate, the athletes, with torsos glistening with sweat, set
about to complete the task at hand. The less experienced runners treated
these intervals as something of a race, starting out with a burst that
would prove unmanageable and they would fall off badly by the latter 500
meters. Carlson shook his head in bemusement. "These kids do it every year
and every time" he mused to himself. "Oh well, that's the only way that
they're going to learn."

Steve was the first to complete the opening interval, as always, with a
time of 3:10. Exactly where he wanted to be. JD came in with a pack of
three other varsity runners 25 seconds later and Adam trailed him by
another 20. This is how things stayed for the next seven intervals, with
Glineberg finishing consistently between 3:10 and 3:17 and JD within 5
seconds on either side of 3:40. By all rights, after this interval, JD
should have been finished. But he jogged up to Mr. Carlson and asked
"Coach, can I run another one?"

Carlson sized him up and replied, "Yeah, if you really feel that you
can. But if you're going to run as many as the big dogs, you need to run
with them."

JD thought for a moment and said, "I'll give it a shot."

Carlson would pay extra attention to this interval. He had always liked JD
for his drive and last season when he finally cracked the Varsity Seven,
Carlson had been most pleased. "Who knows," he thought, "maybe he can do
it." And so the interval began. The pack of three boys, Glineberg, Winden
and the upstart all took off down the first straightaway. Adam jogged over
to the far side of the park so that he could cheer his friend on. At the
first turn, JD had a half step lead on the two faster runners. On one of
the zigzags, however, Kent Winden, the highly capable second runner on the
team, lost his footing as he tried to take the corner too quickly and went
down hard. He got up gingerly, but clearly his interval session was
over. And so it was down to JD and Steve. JD was feeling taxed already but
grimly he ran on. Even though Steve was friendly with JD, at this
particular point in time, JD was nothing more than an upstart rival
challenging his alpha male supremacy on the team. He could not have
that. So at the halfway point he accelerated. Hard. JD attempted to stay
with him, but his energy was flagging quickly. Adam's exhortations roused
his spirits momentarily and he started to come back to Steve, but alas, the
gap widened and Steve crossed the line at a 3:07 and JD staggered in a half
minute later. Carlson shook his head sadly but did not say anything to the
tired boy. Instead he congratulated the team on their excellent workout and
said that he would see them back at the school.

Twenty minutes later, after a slow cooldown on the same route that they
took to the park, the twenty boys filed slowly into the locker room,
exhausted from the quality workout that they had just completed. Some of
the team, mostly the younger runners who were shy about their bodies just
burgeoning into adulthood, went home to shower off but six guys hit up the
showers. Among their numbers were JD, Steve and Adam. Now as it has already
been guessed, all three of these guys were gay, though for the most part,
the world outside of their minds had no idea, but it was quietly rumored
that Adam was queer, not because of his actions but by the sheer fact that
he was a diver. So this is what they saw in the group showering.

Marc Sutor was an eighth grader, out for his second year of
cross-country. He was fast enough to have made it off the junior high squad
and onto JV, partly because his body had already begun the process of
puberty two years earlier and he had more athletic capability than his
peers. But still, Sutor was smallish in stature, somewhere around 5'5" and
was slight in build (like most of the runners). His hair was a dirty blond
and he had a bit of a thatch above his 2" flaccid uncircumcised penis.

Joe Banks was the next-youngest runner on the team. Like Adam and Marc, he
ran JV, mainly because he was now going to be a freshman. Joe was 5'7" and
somewhat more muscular, thanks to his background playing hockey. He was
brown-haired, with light eyes that set him apart from most other
brunettes. His equipment (while soft now) measured out at 2.5" of
circumcised goodness.

Adam was hardly shy about his body, owing to all the time he spent on the
diving boards clad only in his Speedo. His 5'8", 130 pound frame sauntered
into the shower room, with his 3.5" circumcised package swinging freely
beneath a thicket of blond hairs.

Ethan Hauck was the senior #3 runner on the team. His coloration was
darker, owing to some gypsy blood in his past. He was a tall (6'3") hairy
young man. His dark curls covered his pectorals and ran down his belly to
his rather impressive 4.5" soft uncircumcised penis.

Steve's body was one of perfection; it was the textbook runner body. He was
5'11" and a lean 140 pounds of honed muscle and gristle. His blond hair was
cut short not out of any style but just because that's they way he liked
it. He was tanned from running shirtless all summer long and his torso had
nary a hair on it because of his genes. Speaking of genes, he was not
hurting in the cock department. He sported a 3.5" cut penis and he was
quite satisfied with it.

JD did not quite have the looks that Steve did. His complexion was slightly
darker than Steve's but not quite as dark as Ethan. He stood an even 6 feet
and weighed in at 150 pounds. His face was a serious one, often clouded
with several days of stubble. His circumcised penis was a good-sized one at
4 inches.

With multiple looks sneaked by the six showerers, yet no eye contact made
to affirm their wandering eyes, they cleansed themselves of the sweat of an
honest day's workout and they toweled off and headed their own separate
ways; Adam to his job as a lifeguard at the local indoor pool, JD to return
home (taking with him Marc who lived down the block from him) and Steve to
go hang out with his friends at the local beach. Yes, summer was dying but
the new hope of a cross-country season was in the air and the boys were
excited for what was to come. And what was to come was beyond any of their
expectations.


-------------------

Okay, that was my first installment. Like it? Hate it?  Email me at
avehoward@yahoo.com

I really have no idea where this story is going to go. I woke up early this
morning with a desire to write an erotic story about running and runners
and well, now I've started. Please don't be shy in submitting ideas to
me. Who do you want to hookup? If I like your idea, I'll definitely use it.