The Sphinx at Mile Three

The cross country team stared at me like I'd just suggested we do calculus for fun. Which, honestly, I would've preferred.

"You're joining?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, his orange compression shorts blindingly bright against the school's gray track. "You do realize we're not a gaming club, right? You can't just pause when you're tired."

"Ha ha," I said, deadpan. "Coach said I need a sport for college applications. So here I am."

"Here you are," Marcus echoed, "wearing a cotton t-shirt and jeans."

I looked down. Okay, fair point. But Marcus didn't know about the bear. Not the mascot—the actual one I'd encountered on my practice run yesterday, which had sent me scrambling up a tree like a parkour fail compilation. I'd never told anyone because who would believe me? The new kid, already weird enough with my nerdy cable management setups and obsession with fantasy novels, now claiming bears chased him through the suburban woods?

"Whatever," I muttered. "Let's just do this."

We started running. My legs burned. My lungs screamed. This was nothing like video games where you could just drink a health potion and keep going.

By mile three, I was dying. That's when I saw her—the girl everyone called "the Sphinx." She ran alone, always alone, never speaking to anyone, her long dark hair flowing behind her like a river of ink. She was mysterious, unreadable, impossibly fast.

Today, though, she stopped.

She turned and looked at me with these intense, knowing eyes. "You're running like someone's chasing you," she said.

"I—" I gasped. "Maybe someone is."

The Sphinx smiled, just barely. "Or maybe you're chasing something you're afraid to catch."

Then she took off, leaving me in the dust, more confused than ever.

Later, in the locker room, Marcus tossed an orange at me. "You did okay for a first-timer. Even if you do look like a bear dancing on hot coals when you run."

I caught it, actually laughed. The Sphinx watched from across the room, and this time, she winked.

Some riddles don't need answers. Sometimes you just need someone to see you—even when you're terrible at running, even when you're terrified of bears, even when you feel like an imposter in your own life.

And sometimes, just sometimes, that's enough to keep you moving forward.