Kenvil Marathoners at Scott Tower

A pall of dust churned up under the dry summer sun as dozens of feet set into motion around Scott Tower. The furley youth of Kenvil were there in their entirety -- Malinconico, Scarlatti, Chuckie and Sis, and the Josefska clan.
  The makeshift footrace began soon after the noon whistle blared in the distance. Few rules applied in the kids’ spontaneous game without the hectoring of hovering parents. They simply ran in wide circles around the sandlot’s tower.
  The initial dash became a spirited trot as participants realised this was a contest not of speed or distance, but of endurance. The sound of panting and sneakers chuffing through sand carried over the nonexistant breeze. One by one the kids eventually dropped out to collapse in the weeds gasping for breath.
  The race was down to Malinconico and one of the Josefska boys, around and around, jogging side by side. The brunt of a bleary sun wrenched sweat from the two trying to keep pace with each other. No one thought anything about “hydrating” in those days, though it is certain the cool waters of the bay were on both their minds, it being a mere four blocks away from this arid parcel.
  The young men slowed to a sluggish gait, and then soon to a stagger. Step by step, each’s sight drenched and blurred as a final footfall kicked up one last cloud of dust.
  Malinconico dropped to his knees in the rasping sand. Out of breath, Josefska wordlessly raised his arm in victory and then crumpled to the ground as well.
  The Kenvil youth cheered, seemingly not for a single victor, but in acknowledgement of their entente in the spirit of communal engagement.

  “Hip hip hoorah!”