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‘‘...A medal, any medal, was a long way from my mind. Rather I was still very concerned about the possibility of having to sprint. I thought I could sustain the groove of pain I was in, but was not sure I could crank it up to a more exquisite level. Long before it was proper, I began longing for the finish. Robby should at least have been saying, “thirty more,” or something. Maybe he was blinded by the explosions. It turned out the Japanese were shooting up flares to light the finish. They thought of everything. But I was still cussing Robby silently as he refused to tell us where the damned finish line was...’’