Blood Runner by James Riordan

Author:James Riordan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Frances Lincoln
Published: 2011-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

‘I must refresh myself with the names,’ he said. ‘Ah, yes, here we are.’

He sat down with the open book upon his lap, put on his glasses and began to read, occasionally looking up to add comments of his own.

‘In 1896, just seventeen runners gathered at Marathon to run the race – thirteen Greeks, four foreigners, all famous athletes: Teddy Flack from Australia, Arthur Blake of the USA, Albin Lemusiaux of France and Gyula Kellner of Hungary. The favourite, Flack, had already won two gold medals and that same morning had gained a bronze medal for tennis!

‘In the afternoon sunshine, at precisely two o’clock, the starter’s pistol began the race. The seventeen runners crossed a wide plain, passing through a number of villages, and were cheered on by farmers. . .’

‘Who won? Who won?’ shouted Samuel, punching the air.

‘Not so fast,’ said his uncle sternly. ‘The marathon is a long race, so my story is long too. Now, let me see. By halfway, the four foreigners were well in the lead, without a home runner in sight. The Frenchman was two miles ahead of the rest. But at twenty miles he was beginning to feel the strain. His lead was down to just one minute and Flack was steadily overhauling him. Behind him came two Greeks: Vasilakos was seven minutes behind, and Spiridon Louis another thirty seconds.’

The boy cheered. ‘Come on, Greeks!’ he cried. But his uncle was about to dash his hopes.

‘The Frenchman was now paying the price for going too fast, too early. Halfway up a hill, he suddenly stopped for a rest. Meanwhile, Flack ran past him, seemingly on the way to his third gold medal. With only three miles to go, Teddy Flack was entering the outskirts of Athens. Not far now. But . . . Flack was slowing down. The Greek Vasilakos was coming into sight.’

That cheered up Samuel. ‘Come on, Vassy!’ he cried, unable to control himself.

‘However. . .’ said his uncle with a smile, ‘poor Vasilakos was weaving drunkenly from one side of the road to the other. It wasn’t long before another Greek caught up with him: Spiridon Louis. For a while they ran together, before Vasilakos had to drop back, leaving Louis to chase the leader. With only two miles to go, the tall, thin figure of Louis was hot on Flack’s heels. But he was desperately tired. So tired, that he was on the point of dropping out, when he heard a familiar voice. His girlfriend, Eleni, called out, “Spiridon, keep going. For me. For Greece!” She handed him pieces of orange to soothe his parched throat.

‘Gathering his remaining strength, he put on a spurt.

‘It was too much for Flack. Hearing footsteps behind him, he staggered and fell.’

Samuel cheered. ‘You can do it! You can do it, Louis! Keep going!’

‘Back at the stadium,’ continued his uncle, ‘the spectators had no idea who was in the lead. Finally, a cyclist arrived to announce that Flack the Australian was heading for home.

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