That September, his father died in a drunk driving, single-car accident. Pete hadn’t visited him earlier than he died, and he felt his despair taking maintain once more. All through the winter, he set off every morning, making an attempt to outrun his darkish ideas on the snowy mountain trails.
When he reached the following checkpoint, he refused to let the Service provider see his toes. He was afraid the race marshall would disqualify him if he noticed the in-depth injury. The service provider reminded Pete that it wasn’t his job to kick racers off the course — that they had to try this to themselves.