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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.