One hundred and forty high-school runners stood nervously at the starting line. Each one was thinking about the exhausting1 three-mile cross-country race that lay ahead. All were dedicated2 athletes who had run between 5 and 15 miles every day for most of their high-school years. All had prepared themselves for this crucial3 race, the Michigan High School Cross Country Championship. One of the runners was a tall, awkward-looking4 boy named Bill. This contest meant more for him than just trying to win a race. For Bill, our son, it was the most important battle in his long struggle against failure. This was Bill's last race. Would it end in a long-awaited victory? Or would this be a final, crushing defeat to his spirit?
Bill looked pale and nervous as the runners took their places at the line. I wondered if he really belonged here. Certainly most of the other runners had greater strength and speed. But how can we measure the strength of a young man's heart, or the limits of his desire? Could Bill's inner qualities carry him to his dream of being an "all-state" runner? He would have to finish in the top 15 to earn that honor. It seemed impossible. According to the qualifying5 times, Bill should finish close to last.
Bill was 18 years old. His life had been filled with disappointments and failure. Grade school had been a long nightmare6 for him. Though he tried very hard, he could not pick up the most basic reading skills. When it was decided that he should repeat first grade, Bill did not complain. He simply tried harder. But in the following years, he was still unable to keep up with his younger classmates. To make matters worse, the other students made fun of him for “flunking.”
Bill continued to struggle through school. Then one day his sixth-grade teacher called us in for a conference. She said, “I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but Bill isn't trying anymore. He has given up completely.”
I became very sad—and afraid. I was afraid Bill might have lost forever the good feeling about himself that had kept him going in spite of his slowness.
That night I had a talk with Bill. For the first time, I told him about my own grade-school experiences. I said, “I was the dumbest one in my class. But my parents and teachers were loving and understanding. Because of that, I somehow stumbled through those years and eventually7 went on to law school.”
I went on, “We think achievements come easily to others. Life usually isn't like that. Most triumphs8 grow out of the ashes of defeat.”
Bill said to me, “You know, Dad, I guess that not doing so well isn't all that bad if someone loves you and stands by you.”
During Bill's last year of elementary school, we discovered he had eye problems. This was why he had trouble learning. With the help of an eye doctor and Bill's strong desire to make progress, he was on the honor roll in his first year of junior high school.
In the eighth grade, Bill went out for track, a sport where no one was ever cut from the team. During his first track season, Bill lost every race badly. But with every defeat, he grew more determined.
The next fall, he ran with the high-school freshman cross-country team. He finished poorly all year, but always ran as hard as he could. The team captain and top runner Phil Ceeley, saw how hard Bill tried. Phil worked with Bill after school. Soon everyone in our neighborhood could count on seeing Bill running through the streets. He ran up to 15 miles a day—every day—through the bitter cold of winter and the burning heat of summer.
Those thousands of miles of hard work finally began to pay off in Bill's senior year. He became his cross-country team's fastest runner.
His teammates chose him to be captain. Bill was thrilled, but he had one more goal—to be an all-state runner. To achieve this, he would have to compete with runners from schools throughout the state. He would have to beat thousands of runners, most with more natural athletic ability than he, in a regional and finally in a state meet. I wasn't sure he could do it. CRACK! The starter's gun signaled the beginning of the race; my knees were weak. “Go, Billy Blue!” I shouted to my son, who wore the blue of Royal Oak's Kimball High School. The runners disappeared into the woods.
My wife and I hurried with the rest of the crowd to a flat stretch at the bottom of a hill where the runners would next appear. The first runner burst into view. Though I could not see his face, I could tell by his style that he wasn't Bill.
Four more runners appeared, then five. Where was he? For a moment, I was afraid that Bill had dropped out. He had never quit9 a race, no matter how badly he was running. Maybe he was hurt!
Finally he came over the hill. I sighed with relief until I realized there were 39 runners ahead of him. And I could tell that Bill was working hard—too hard. Every muscle was forcing and straining10.
The next glimpse11 we could get of the race would be at the three-quarter-mile mark. I ran to the clearing with the other spectators and waited. A lone runner burst over the hill—not Bill. Then a pack of skinny, red-faced boy appeared. Ten...l3...l6 l9...There he was! My heart sank. He was running in 20th place, and pinned to the inside.
“You've got to make your move now! You can't do it later,” I thought. As if he had heard me, Bill suddenly swung to the outside and reappeared in sixth place. “Go, Bill!” I yelled12 as he streaked past me.
He came out of the trees at the two-mile mark in a tie for fourth place with a boy who had beaten him badly all year. My heart jumped to my throat. Fourth place, even fifth place—either was good enough for all-state! I could see the pain, anxiety and deep desire on Bill's slender face. I had never seen him look so strained. “Go, Bill! Come on, Bill! Could he hear? Could he feel my love reaching out?”
Gasping for breath, I reached the finish line to watch the results. A smooth, confident runner from Grosse Pointe sailed across to the cheers of the crowd. Then the second and third runners streaked across. An eternity later came Bill, still matching his competitor stride for stumbling stride.
Both exhausted runners crossed the finish line together. As Bill staggered13 past me, I looked closely at his face. It was covered with pain. Was he going to collapse14? I ran over, grabbed his arm and put it over my shoulder. He gasped for breath as he slumped lifelessly against me. In a few seconds, he straightened up and said, “I am okay now, Dad.” He jogged off to slowly unwind his muscles. He had recovered.
But I had not. I was overwhelmed. I tried to hold back the tears, but couldn't. I had to let them come. I tried to look at Bill, but could not see. I tried to talk, but no words came.
For a moment I was ashamed. I could no longer keep the everyday mask we all wear. I wondered what others would think. But deep in my heart, it felt good to show my joy and love for my son.
一百四十名中学长跑选手紧张不安地站在起跑线上，每个人心里都在想着眼前这场耗费体力的3英里越野比赛。他们都是执着的体育爱好者，整个中学期间，几乎每天都坚持跑完5至l5英里。他们每个人都为密执安州这场重要的中学越野锦标赛做好了准备。
有个运动员叫比尔，他个子很高，看上去很笨拙。对他来说，这场比赛不仅仅是取胜的问题，其意义尤其重大。对我们的儿子比尔来说，这是他长期与失败进行斗争的关键一仗。这是一场决定一切的比赛。这场比赛结局是渴望已久的胜利呢？还是再次失败而从此使他一蹶不振呢？
当运动员们在起跑线上预备起跑时，比尔面色苍白，精神紧张。我想他也许不该来参加比赛。显而易见，别的运动员大多比他健壮，速度也比他快。但是我们拿什么去衡量一个年轻人的决心和毅力呢？比尔身上的优秀品质能否使他争当“全州”长跑选手的梦想成为现实呢？要取得这个光荣称号，他必须闯入前十五名。看起来这似乎是不可能的。根据预赛中的成绩，比尔肯定是最后几名里边的。
比尔那年十八岁。在此之前，他生活中失败和挫折接踵而至。小学对他来说就像是作了一场漫长的噩梦。尽管他很努力，但他连最基本的阅读技巧也学不会。当决定要他重读一年级时，他毫无怨言，只是比原先更用功了。但是在随后的几年中，他还是赶不上那些年龄比他小的同学。更糟糕的是，别的同学还因为他“留过级”而取笑他。
比尔继续努力学习。但是，有一天，教他的六年级老师约我们到学校去谈谈。她说：“真对不起，但是我必须把实情告诉你们：比尔干脆不学了，他完全自暴自弃了。”
我很难过，也很担心。我担心比尔也许会永远失去自信心了。尽管他领会东西很慢，然而正是这种自信心使他能够坚持学习。
那天晚上，我和比尔好好谈了谈。我第一次向他讲述了我上小学时的经历。我说：“我在班上是个最笨的学生，但是家长和老师都很亲切，能体谅人。正因为这些，我虽然吃力，但还是上完了小学，最后还上了大学法律系。”
我接着又说：“我们以为别人总是轻而易举取得成功。但生活并非如此。大部份人成功之前都经历失败。”
比尔对我说：“我懂了，爸爸。我想，如果有人关怀你，支持你，那么学习不太好就不是那么可怕的事情了。”
小学最后一年，我们发现比尔眼睛有毛病。这才是他学习吃力的原因。在一位眼科医生的帮助下，加上比尔强烈的上进心，初中一年级时，他已经是名列前茅的好学生了。
到了八年级，比尔参加了田径队，在这个队里从未发生过队员因成绩不佳而被除名的事。刚参加田径队那阵儿，他一场比赛都没赢过。但是每次失败都使他意志更加坚强。
第二年秋天，他参加了高中一年级新生的越野长跑队。整一年，尽管他始终没有跑出好成绩，但每次都是尽力而为。长跑队队长、长跑能手费尔·希利注意到了比尔刻苦努力的情况，常在放学以后和比尔一块儿练习。很快，我们家附近的人总是看见比尔在街上跑步。他每天要跑多达15英里，并且每天坚持不懈，即使是寒冬酷暑，也从不间断。
比尔上高中二年级时，他以前几千英里的刻苦锻炼开始初见成效了。他已成为越野长跑队里跑得最快的队员了。他还被队员们选为队长。比尔高兴极了，但是他又向自己提出了新的奋斗目标——成为全州优秀长跑选手。要实现这个目标，他就必须和来自全州各校的长跑选手角逐一番。他必须闯过区级和州级运动会两道难关，要击败几千个长跑选手，而这些选手中大多数人的运动素质都比他好。他能否做到这一点，我也没把握。 叭！发令员的枪声一响，比赛开始了。我感到两腿发软。“快跑，蓝色运动服的比利！”我冲着儿子喊道。那天，他穿着罗耶尔奥克市金博尔中学的蓝色运动衣。运动员们消失在树林中。
我和妻子随着人群赶到山脚下的一块平地，运动员将要从那里经过。跑在最前面的运动员闯入人们的视线。尽管我看不清他的脸，但凭着他跑步的样子，我可以断定他不是比尔。
又有四名运动员跑过来了，接着是第五名。比尔在哪儿呢？我一下子担心起来：也许比尔已经退出了比赛。在此之前，不管跑得多么不好，他从来没有退出过比赛。也许他受伤了！
终于，他从山背后跑过来了。我先是松了一口气，接着才意识到已经有三十九名运动员跑在他前面了。我看得出来，比尔跑得很吃力——太吃力了。他浑身的肌肉都在使劲儿。
下一个能看到运动员跑过的地方是四分之三英里处。我和其他人一起跑到那儿的一片空地上等候着。一名运动员跑过山头——但不是比尔。后来又跑来一群满脸通红的瘦削的孩子，十……十三……十六……十九……比尔终于跑过来了！我心头一沉。他跑在第二十名的位置，而且是夹在人群之中。
“你现在可得加把劲儿了！再晚就没有机会了，”我心里想道。比尔好象听见了我的心声，只见他忽然转到外面来，跑到了第六名。“加油，比尔!”当他从我身边跑过时我大声喊道。
在两英里处，他和另一个男孩子同时跑出了树林，并列第四名。那个男孩子在全年的训练中总是把比尔远远抛在后边。我的心剧烈地跳动着。别说是第四名，即使是第五名，那在全州来说也是够好的了！在比尔那清瘦的脸上我可以看出他的痛楚、焦急和他的深切的期望。我从来没见过他这样憋足了劲儿。“加油，比尔！再加把劲儿，比尔!”他能听见我的话吗? 他能感觉到我对他的关爱吗？
我上气不接下气地跑到终点处来看比赛结果。来自克罗斯角的一名脚步稳健、充满自信的运动员迎着欢呼的人群轻松地跑过了终点线。接着第二名和第三名也飞快地跑过了终点线。似乎过了很久，比尔跑过来了，还在艰难地和他的对手角逐第四名。
两位筋疲力尽的选手同时冲过了终点线。当比尔一拐一拐地从我旁边走过时，我仔细地注视着他的脸。他满脸痛楚。他会不会跌倒在地？我赶紧跑过去，抓住他的胳膊架在了我的肩上。他浑身一软，靠在了我的身上，大口大口地喘着气。过了一会儿，他站直了身子对我说：“我现在好了，爸爸。”他缓步跑开，慢慢地舒缓一下肌肉。他已经恢复过来了。
而我却还没有恢复常态。我太兴奋了，尽力不让泪水涌出来，但是做不到。我只好任它流吧。我想看看比尔，却什么也看不见。我想说点什么，但什么也说不出来。
我感到有些不好意思了。我无法再保持平日我们大家都有的那副神态了。我不知道别人会怎么想，但是我内心深处感到，让人们看见我爱我的儿子，为他高兴，真是痛快。
1． exhausting a．使人筋疲力尽的
2． dedicated a．专注的；献身的
3． crucial a．决定性的
4． awkward－looking a．样子笨拙的
5． qualifying a． 资格的
6． nightmare n． 噩梦
7． eventually ad． 终于
8． triumph n． 胜利
9． quit [kwit] v． 退出
10． strain [strein] v． 紧张
11． glimpse [glimps] n． 一瞥
12． yell [jel] v． 叫喊
13． stagger v． 蹒跚
14． collapse v． 崩溃；跨了