I'm so glad you've come out a clean,
fine, clear-cut Christian."
* * * * *
For the two-mile, the half, and the mile, each--a single athlete was
training, his heart set on the record. It seemed impossible that I
should win all three races. Yet I did.
I was all nerves and sinews for the two-mile. The night before I had
lain awake. I could not sleep so I read a poor translation of the odes
of Pindar. But behind the bad verbiage of the translator, I fed on the
shining spirit of the poetry. With Pindar's music in me, I was ready for
the two-mile.
* * * * *
Tensely we leaned forward, at the scratch. I had my plan of campaign
evolved. I would leap to the fore, at the crack of the pistol, set a
terrific pace, sprint the first quarter, and then settle into my long,
steady stride, and trust to my good lung power ... for I had paid
special attention to my lung-development, at "Perfection City."
I felt a melting fire of nervousness running through my body, a
weakness.
I bowed my face in my hands and prayed ... both to Christ and to Apollo
... in deadly seriousness ... perhaps all the gods really were....
The gun cracked. Off I leapt, in the lead ... in the first lap the field
fell behind.
"Steady, Gregory, steady!" advised Dunn, in a low voice, as I flashed
into the second.
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