Author's Notes: Admittedly this is my favorite post. I think it stems from the fact I can relate (in some sense) to this training. Also, this was actually one of the two or three scenes that I had in my head before I began writing so that might have something to so with it as well.

And, btw, the title is a tribute to my favorite runner; Steve Prefontaine for those who didn't catch it.

………

Pre Prefontaine

June:

There was only one thing that Tim felt he brought to this whole Robin thing which was running. He enjoyed it and was generally good at it. With his parents traipsing all over the globe, as a young boy he had spent many days out in the woods running along the trails.

And so when he had begun Robin training he wasn't too worried about the running aspect. He knew that it would be a lot harder than he was used to, but he wasn't really prepared for it to be this bad.

Mid-June in Gotham was generally in the high 80s with humidity around 50. It wasn't too bad if one was out for a mild stroll. However, when one was in the middle of a ten-mile jog on the black asphalt, it was murder.

Tim wiped a hand over his face and wasn't the least surprised it came back damp. The distance wasn't the problem, or well it wasn't the main problem.

Bruce had told him to begin running five miles after his first day of training. The teenager took that advice and ran an easy five miles now at a little over thirty-five minutes. Today was his first time running under Bruce's tutelage.

His mentor met him out front of the Manor in running gear. Tim dropped his backpack and Bruce began stretching without a word and Tim followed suit. Ten minutes later, Bruce straightened.

"Let's begin," the older man said took off running. Tim blinked once and then caught up with his mentor. Only a few minutes into the run and the teenager realized his easy five milers hadn't prepared him for this. Bruce pushed a grueling pace and Tim felt his first cramp at three miles. At five he no longer cared about keeping any sort of patterning with his breathing. Miles six through nine were a blur to him and by ten, as they came to the Manor, Tim never felt such joy in his life.

He came to a staggering halt and resisted the urge to fall on all fours. Bruce grabbed a towel that Alfred had left out and dapped the few spots of sweat. He handed a towel to Tim who had slightly given into his urge and rested his hands on his knees, still panting heavily.

"That was a 6:40 pace, by next week I want you running at 6:25. By the end, you will be able to run a marathon with at a 5:30 pace," with that Bruce walked inside and left the teenager alone. As soon as the front door shut, Tim gave in and fell to the dirt with a groan. He knew he needed to stretch but right now, all he wanted to do was cry.

There was no way he could pull off a 6:25 mile for ten miles let alone twenty-six miles at 5:30.

Tim rested his forehead on the dirt and sighed heavily into it; he was going to be so sore.