Lynnea. A regular bean pole, the extreme skininess of her limbs sometimes making her look like those wind creatures that car lots use to advertise. Her thin hair, usually in a some kind of crazy ponytail, was naturally curly and she would always wrap it around her fingers to keep its curl. She'd grasp urgently to it, too, when she would get really passionate about something--which happened ALL. THE. TIME.--and her squinty little eyes would widen to their full capacity, her little lips tightening over her straight teeth. "IT'S HER, YOU GUYS! That's Jen Bremser!"Rivals were always a topic of conversation with Lynnea, but never on the run. Mostly because she was always too far ahead of the rest of us to keep a conversation. She ran faster than most of the boys, which was to her advantage since her soul was so free with itself it needed time to just gallivant across the trails.

Jordan Bloesser. If ever there were a buggin in the world, it is she. Her round face often lit up with laughter when someone said something funny, or stupid mostly, becuase she was a sharp girl and chortled at the foolishness of other people. Straight, true blond hair laid obediently on top of her very level head. Every decision she made was practical, and this rationality contributed a great deal to the competitive nature which stormed out of her otherwise submissive soul every time the gun went off. No one who knew her before or after a race would ever expect such a ferocious threat to be buried deep beneath such an endearing complexion or forgiving aura, but it was that exact element of surprise and feist that drew such a strong affinity for her. Humble in the victory that so often fell on her doorstep, she served as a constant representative of the sanity the rest of us lacked.

Erik Williams. Talk about slim as sinew. His entire being was nothing but skin, bones, and a messy stack of straw on top of a pin head with bulging eyes. Oh, you know him? The exact image you draw to your mind when you think of zany cross country boys, their long gangly legs barely topped with shorts no bigger than their hand spans? Yep, that's him. Erik's biggest asset was his desire for improvement, and he fought for it till the upchuck came up in the chute. He was a regular Ghandi, too, leading the team with a heart of gold.

These were my right hand runners when my sophomore year rolled around at Doherty High School. Our team was severely severed and without the support from these three partners, the Spartans may have remained so the rest of their Cross Country existence. But Lynnea, Jordan, Erik and I changed that.