The Red Center Marathon

The sun wasn’t even fully up yet, but the Northern Territory was already breathing down Leo’s neck like a giant, invisible dragon. It was a dry, sticky heat that made his skin feel two sizes too small.

Leo Chen stood at the edge of the red dirt track, kicking at a loose pebble with his runners. A few meters away, his older brother, Kenji, was doing high-knees. Kenji looked like he’d been plucked straight out of a sports magazine—tall, lean, and not a single drop of sweat on his forehead.

“Don’t push it too hard, Leo,” Kenji called out, flashing a grin that was way too bright for six in the morning. “It’s a ‘fun run,’ not the Olympics. Just try to finish, yeah? I’ll wait for you at the end with a cold drink.”

Leo felt that familiar prickle of annoyance. It was always like this. Kenji was the captain of the school footy team, the fastest swimmer in the district, and the guy who could probably run a marathon in flip-flops if he wanted to. Leo? Leo was the kid who liked drawing in his sketchbook and was mostly known as “Kenji’s little brother.”

“I’ll be fine,” Leo muttered, adjusting his hat.

Their parents were standing by the rental SUV, waving frantically. “Good luck, boys!” his mum yelled. “Stay hydrated! Watch out for the flies!”

The flies. They were already there—the legendary Australian bush flies. They didn’t just buzz; they staged a full-scale invasion of your face. Leo swiped at his nose for the tenth time.

A man in a dusty akubra hat climbed onto a crate and blew a whistle that sounded like a dying bird. “Righto, listen up, legends!” he barked. “This is the Junior Red Center Fun Run. It’s five kays of sand, rock, and spinifex. Follow the markers. If you get dizzy, sit down. Don’t be a hero. Ready? Set… Go!”

And they were off.

The First K

The start was a mess of flying dust and neon-colored sneakers. Kenji disappeared almost instantly, his long legs eating up the ground. Leo tried to keep a steady pace, but the red sand was soft, like running through a giant bowl of crushed crackers.

“Strewth, it’s a scorcher already,” a kid next to him gasped.

Leo didn’t answer. He was focused on his breathing. In, out. In, out. He looked at the horizon. Everything was orange—the ground, the rocks, even the light. It was beautiful, but it felt dangerous, too.

The Mid-Point Struggle

By the three-kilometer mark, the “fun” had officially left the “fun run.”

Leo’s legs felt like they were made of lead. His throat was as dry as a dead bird’s nest. Every time he took a breath, he felt like he was swallowing hot glitter. The flies were now hitching rides on his eyelashes, and his sweat was making his shirt stick to his back in a gross, itchy way.

He slowed down to a walk. Why am I doing this? he thought. Kenji’s probably already finished. He’s probably having an ice-block while I’m out here turning into a human raisin.

He sat down on a flat rock for a second. The silence of the desert was huge. It wasn’t like the city; it was a heavy, ancient kind of quiet. He looked at his hands—they were stained red from the dust.

“You alright, mate?”

Leo looked up. A girl named Mei, who went to his weekend language school, was jogging past. She looked exhausted, her face the color of a ripe tomato.

“Just… taking a breather,” Leo wheezed.

“Fair dinkum,” she said, pausing. “My legs are jelly. But we’re nearly at the big dune. Once you’re over that, it’s all downhill to the finish.”

She kept going, her ponytail swinging. Leo watched her. She wasn’t a star athlete like Kenji. She was just… trying.

Leo thought about his sketchbook back at the hotel. He’d drawn a picture of a thorny devil lizard yesterday. Those little guys lived out here. They didn’t complain about the heat; they just kept moving.

“Can’t let a lizard beat me,” Leo whispered. He stood up. His knees cracked, and his head felt a bit light, but he started to trot.

The Grit

The final kilometer was the real test. The track turned into a narrow path through thick spinifex grass that poked at his shins. The sun was now a blinding white coin in the sky.

Leo’s self-doubt started screaming at him. You’re the slow one. You’re the weak one. Just quit. Nobody expects you to be good at sports anyway.

“Shut up,” Leo said out loud. A fly flew into his mouth. He spat it out and kept going.

He wasn’t running for his parents. He wasn’t running to beat Kenji. He was running because he wanted to see if he could actually do something hard without giving up.

He reached the top of the last dune. Below him, he could see the finish line—a banner tied between two gum trees. He could see the crowd, a tiny cluster of people looking like colorful ants.

He saw Kenji. His brother was standing near the finish, looking back up the hill. He wasn’t laughing. He looked… worried.

Leo took a deep breath, ignored the fire in his lungs, and charged down the hill.

The Finish Line

The last hundred meters were a blur. The dirt flew up around his ankles. He heard his dad shouting, “Go on, Leo! Put your back into it!”

He crossed the line and immediately collapsed onto the grass—or what passed for grass in the desert.

A shadow fell over him. A cold water bottle was pressed against his cheek.

“Good onya, Leo,” Kenji said. He sat down next to him. “That was a tough slog. I thought you might have called it quits back at the three-kay mark.”

Leo sat up, gulping down the water. “Did you… did you win?”

Kenji shrugged. “Came second. Some kid from Alice Springs is a literal cheetah. But hey, look at your time.” He pointed to the clock.

Leo had finished in the middle of the pack. He wasn’t the fastest. He wasn’t a champion. But he had finished.

“I didn’t stop,” Leo said, his voice scratchy. “I mean, I sat on a rock for a bit, but I didn’t quit.”

Kenji clapped him on the shoulder, his hand leaving a dusty print on Leo’s shirt. “The desert is no joke, little bro. You’ve got more grit than I thought. You’re a real trooper.”

For the first time, Leo didn’t feel like he was standing in a shadow. The sun was too bright for shadows anyway. He looked at his red-stained runners and smiled. He might still prefer his sketchbook to a running track, but now he knew he could handle the heat.

“Let’s go get that ice-block,” Leo said. “And maybe some fly spray.”