By Luke Cyphers

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

He'd be getting off the bus when a girl he'd always looked up to would challenge him to a race and beat him, yet again. Or he'd be on his couch, whiling away a sticky Kentucky summer in front of the TV and a woman he always looked up to would push him out the door to run the hills behind their house. Or he'd be staring at his lane on the track, whiling away the minutes between training sprints on a hot Arkansas afternoon—no coach to tell him what to do, no telling what would become of hi ...

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