Me and the silent hills. Just me and the breathing and the leaves crunching underfoot on these silent hills. Everything around me is dead or dying and I feel reborn. I am at my best. And it is a best, a rebirth that I experience alone.
Nature is the only spectator.
On other seasons, in other races, there are people to cheer and encourage or just to watch. But not in cross-country. Within minutes, I am alone with my fellow runners. Yards ahead or yards behind, they are out of my line of thought, beyond the horizon of my mind. I am alone on the back hills of Van Cortlandt.