We’d spent most of Wednesday running. And when I say running, I don’t mean laps. We sprinted.

It turned out that aside from physics, the common element that would be shared by our track activities was speed.

And I didn’t have any.

After a full day of working on starting, running, and finishing, I knew that day two was going to be rough.

So, when I woke up on Thursday morning, I had to drag my aching body to the gym for another round.

“Okay, guys,” Coach Bennett said. “Yesterday, we learned the fundamentals of speed. Today, we’re going to use it.”

Everyone around me sounded excited and I followed the group over to the row of aluminum hurdles Coach had placed on the track.

I’d studied the diagrams in my book, so I knew what my body was supposed to do. I just wasn’t sure that it could. In addition to speed, hurdling would require timing and coordination. And on that particular morning, I doubted I had any of those things.

Coach Bennett went over the basics with us and when he blew his whistle, we lined up to jump over one.

Just one.

I took a deep breath from my place at the back of the line.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” I told him, watching as the first of our teammates charged at the hurdle. I watched his feet and when he got close, I counted off Coach’s recommended four steps before the jump.

He led with his right foot and soared over the obstacle like it was nothing and the whole lineup cheered.

When the next runner was up, he did the exact same thing and cleared the hurdle. The third bumped it with the tip of his shoe, but it merely wobbled for a second, then became still again.

“Nice,” Sam said.

“Hey, my brother could jump a hurdle twice that size,” James joked.

“Oh yeah? Mine could do it backward,” Sam countered, and they both laughed.

“Just do your best,” James said.

And Sam did. When it was his turn, he took off at the blast of Coach’s whistle and made a perfect leap.

“Next,” Coach said.

I nodded as I stepped up to the line. I took a deep breath, then another.

You’re tall.

You have long legs.

You can do this.

I inhaled deeply again and exhaled slowly.

“Ready?” Coach asked.

I nodded and when he blew his whistle, I took off as quickly as I could.

One, two, three . . . no, don’t count yet!

The closer I got to the hurdle, the taller it was.

I took a few more steps.

Count now! Four more!

Wait, is it too late?

At the very last second, instead of jumping, I veered sharply to my right and ran around the hurdle. I stumbled slightly, but stayed upright.

“Okay,” Coach said. “That was a good dry run. Let’s give it another try.”

Embarrassed to be the only one who had faltered, I returned to the starting line with hot and undoubtedly bright red cheeks.

“You can do it,” James said, patting me on the back.

Considering how nice the Cougars had been all week, I shouldn’t have been surprised by the “you had good speed” and “just go for it” that followed from the other guys.

I nodded and took another deep breath as I stepped on the starting line.

“Let’s go, Russ,” Sam encouraged from behind me.

Coach Bennett blew his whistle and I took off again, feeling every step in my aching muscles.

I heard some cheering behind me, and when the moment came, I counted off the steps.

One, two, three.

On four, I leaped, extending my right leg as far ahead of me as it could go and lifting my body off the ground.

I was flying through the air, amazed that I could do it.

And then, suddenly, I wasn’t doing it at all.

My left shoe caught the hurdle, right on my laces, and I didn’t have time to shake free. The next thing I knew, I was heading face-first onto the track.

Uh-oh.

I threw my hands out in front of me and landed hard, then somersaulted a couple of times before coming to a stop.

I waited to hear laughter from the starting line.

But there was none.

Instead, I heard the pounding of footsteps as my teammates and Coach ran over to make sure I was okay.

To my utter amazement, I was.

Sure, I felt embarrassed, and my palms were a bit scraped, but I was fine.

The fall hadn’t killed me.

“You were so close,” Sam said.

“You missed it by a couple of inches,” James added, demonstrating with his fingers how far I’d been from clearing the obstacle.

“Would you like to sit out for a few minutes?” Coach asked, once he’d helped me to my feet.

I looked at the faces of my teammates, who were obviously eager for me to succeed at something I’d never even imagined trying.

And that made me want to succeed, too.

“Can I give it another try?” I asked Coach.

“Attaboy,” he said, with a smile.

As is often the case with new things, the third time was a charm. I knew what it felt like to avoid the obstacle and I knew what it felt like to crash into it. Somehow, that gave me the confidence to give it all I had.

It probably wasn’t the most graceful hurdle the world had ever seen. I’m sure my arms were flailing and I can only imagine the crazed expressions on my face as I took off, cleared it, and landed safely on the other side.

I wasn’t a natural, but I did it.

My teammates cheered.

Coach patted me on the back and said, “Nice work, kid.”

The rest of the morning went just as well. I had some rocky moments when we added more hurdles and timing became an even bigger issue. But I did my best, just like everyone else.

When we broke for lunch, I walked over to the cafeteria with the rest of the Cougars. We talked and laughed as we filled our plates with pasta, garlic bread, and salad.

Sam found a table that had room for all of us and we sat down to enjoy the meal.

I was barely two bites in when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Hey, Russ,” Owen said when I turned around.

“Hey.”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” I said, making room next to me. “What’s going on?”

“I patched things up with Jackson,” he said. “I came by your room to tell you last night, but—”

“I was asleep by eight th—”

“You didn’t answer,” he interrupted, before I could tell him about my exhausting first day of track and field.

“I’m glad you worked it out,” I told him. “I like Jackson.”

“Me, too. But the thing is, I can’t figure out how to deal with the other guys.”

“Talk to them, Owen. They’re just people.”

He shook his head. “They won’t listen.”

“Then try again.”

“You don’t get it, Russ. Jackson told me they think I’m a ball hog—”

“Which you have been, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But they also think I’m too aggressive—”

“Accurate?” I asked.

“Um . . . maybe. Jackson wouldn’t tell me which guy said it, but one of them thinks I’m a showboat.”

I stared at him. “Would you agree?”

He groaned. “You’re not helping, Russ.”

“Well, would you?” I pushed.

“I guess, but I just wanted to show them what I could do,” he said, shoulders slumped.

I thought about it for a minute before I told him, “Then maybe that’s the solution.”

“What?”

I adjusted my glasses. “Maybe I was wrong—”

He laughed. “Wow, could I have that in writing?”

“I said maybe, Owen.” I gave him a long look and waited for the smile to leave his face. “Can I continue?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I was wrong to suggest talking to them, when the fact is, your actions speak the loudest.”

“Is this some kind of a riddle?”

I sighed. “No. What I’m saying is that you need to show these guys that you aren’t a ball hog by passing to them. Be less aggressive. Don’t be a showboat.”

“But—”

“Show them you’re a good player and a good teammate. I know for a fact that you’re already both of those things for the Pioneers.”

“I know, but it’s Hoopsters camp and—”

“You don’t have to turn into someone else, Owen. Who you are is enough.”

He thought about that for a moment or two, then smiled at me. “Thanks, Russ.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, starting to turn my attention back to my pasta.

“You know something?” Owen asked. Before I had a chance to respond, he continued, “I can see why your Masters of the Mind team made you their leader.”

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth and I was going to ask him what he meant.

But he was gone.

During the afternoon session of track and field, I let Owen’s words simmer in my mind. Of course, I also concentrated on what Coach was saying, but my brother’s comments gave me a warm, satisfied feeling at the same time.

We moved on from hurdles to long jump, which proved to be wonderfully easy in comparison. To my surprise, I ranked third on the team for longest jump.

Pole vaulting was a slightly different story, but once I’d taken a couple of practice runs and reminded myself it was simply a matter of physics, I managed to heave myself over the bar.

My landing was atrocious, but the thick mattress that caught me certainly helped.

As I walked back to the line, I felt taller than usual. It took me a moment to realize that I’d abandoned the slouched shoulders that had weighed me down since the mess at state.

Hmm.

It seemed that despite the fact that none of the sports and activities I’d been involved with all week had anything to do with Masters of the Mind, they’d helped me find my way back.

The pranks had brought me back to brainstorming.

I’d found physics and geometry in the most unlikely places.

I’d made friends and shown them that I wasn’t the sort of person who gave up.

And that’s when it hit me.

There was no reason to give up on Masters of the Mind.

We’d suffered a setback at state. A bump in the road. A blip on the radar.

An aluminum hurdle in the middle of a sprint.

Next time, we would jump over it.

It was as simple as that.

I found myself smiling as I stepped into my place at the back of the line.

“Why are you so happy?” James asked when I joined him.

I grinned at him, but didn’t answer.

There were too many reasons to list.