Bull, Bear, and the Art of Running

The summer before junior year, I scored my first real job working at Miller's Ranch. My mom was pumped—"responsibility," "character building," blah blah blah. I was mostly thinking about the money for concert tickets and new Vans. What I didn't expect was to spend my first week literally running from a two-thousand-pound **bull** named Buster who'd apparently decided his life's mission was to end mine.

The thing about Buster? He was deceptively chill. One minute he'd be grazing, looking all innocent and cow-like, and the next he'd be charging across the pasture like I'd personally insulted his entire ancestry. Mr. Miller just laughed and called it "character building." Meanwhile, my calves were screaming and I was questioning every life choice that led to me working at a ranch instead of getting a normal air-conditioned job like a normal teenager.

Then there was Maya, the ranch hand who was basically a goddess with muscles and an attitude to match. She'd lean against the fence post, watching me sprint from Buster for the third time that day, and say things like, "You're getting faster, city boy." I wanted to be annoyed, but I was mostly just impressed that she noticed.

The twist came when we found the **bear**. Okay, technically it was a baby black bear cub that had wandered onto the property, but still. A bear. Maya and I spent three hours trying to keep it away from Buster (who seemed offended by the competition) while we waited for animal control. We sat on the bed of Mr. Miller's truck, sharing beef jerky and watching the cub clumsily explore.

"You know," Maya said, wiping grease from her hands, "running isn't just about getting away from stuff. Sometimes it's about running toward something."

I looked at her, really looked at her, and felt my stomach do that ridiculous flip thing it always does in movies but I thought was fake until that moment. "Like what?"

She shrugged, but I saw her cheeks turn pink. "Like cross country tryouts next week. I saw you **running** that fence line yesterday. You've got form."

I'd been secretly practicing, thinking nobody noticed. The heat rose up my neck as Buster snorted in the background, apparently over his latest phase of wanting to murder me.

"Tryouts with me?" I asked, trying to sound casual and definitely not like I'd been waiting for this moment all summer.

Maya grinned. "Someone's gotta keep you alive. Can't have you outrunning bears and bulls only to trip on a root."

That night, I lay in bed with muscles aching in places I didn't know existed, thinking about how the worst summer of my life had somehow turned into something else entirely. Sometimes the things you're running from are exactly what lead you to where you need to be.