"Robert Reed - X-Country" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

X-COUNTRY
by Robert Reed

Our stories often need to bear тАЬDonтАЩt try this at homeтАЭ warnings. In this
case, however, weтАЩre happy to encourage readers to take up cross-country
running. But if you find yourself facing a course like the one described in
this story, well, donтАЩt say we didnтАЩt warn you...

****

The new fellow never talked about himself much, and details came out in little
dribbles. But he mentioned having once been a teenager in the hill countryтАФa stretch
of poor farms and limestone bluffs about an hour north of town. He had a favorite
few tales about running cross-country for the local high school: His Phys Ed teacher
first saw his potential and egged him into running competitively. Without training and
with a naturally lousy sense of pace, the recruit managed to finish dead last for a
desperately weak team. But after another year of growth and three thousand miles
underfoot, he became a powerful Senior. Laughing at his own misfortunes, our new
friend claimed that he could have enjoyed a spectacular year, except that on the eve
of the seasonтАЩs first race he got a wicked case of shin splints and he didnтАЩt run
another two steps until after the State Championship was in the books.

Kip Logan was his name, as far as anybody can tell. A few of usтАФour most
imaginative/paranoid citizensтАФstill liked to dwell on the gaps and little question
marks in his personal history. For instance, nobody felt quite sure where Kip was
before he came to live with us, or what he did, or how he made his money. Nobody
could remember him mentioning parents or any siblings of consequence, and
nobody ever stepped forward to say yes, they knew him as a boy. But then again,
doesnтАЩt everybody have gaps and incongruities in their life story? Think about it:
You would be hard-pressed to write the definitive biography of your very best
friend. And Kip was never more than a close acquaintance to any of us. Besides, his
hometown nearly died when its quarries were shut down, and a year later, the county
consolidated its schools, boarding up his old high school in the process.

Whoever Kip was, he always acted like a genuinely friendly fellow, throwing
out big smiles while speaking to us with slow, pleasant tones. As a general rule,
people didnтАЩt consider him particularly bright. But everybody has to wonder now.
When we talk about him, we always seem to mention how careful he was. The man
never boasted about his successes, and he never lectured to us, and I am the only
person who can remember him knowing anything that you wouldnтАЩt think he would
know. Even after a lifetime spent running, he happily claimed to be helpless when it
came to calculating a reliable pace time.

Talking about himself, Kip Logan always used excessively humble tones. And
frankly, his physical appearance helped this illusion of simplicity: He was tall and
pretty-boy handsome, with long legs that carried a muscled body and a pair of
shoulders far broader than typical for a quality distance runner. A lifetime of wind
and sun had barely abused his skin, which was gold in the summer and ruddy-chalk
in the depths of winter. His hair was thick and exceptionally blond. Yet he openly
admitted that a portion of that rich mane was artificial. Male-pattern baldness had