Rock would never know why anyone had asked him to cover a road race in Denver, but here he was, freezing in the midst of the sort of early-morning cold absolutely idiosyncratic of every mountain landscape he had ever experienced, complete with its blue-capped ring of cloudless haze. He couldn't find the results, but apparently some people he knew from the Little Rock Hash House Harriers had done well.
At some point, he found a computer on a fold-out table near the finish line. The results were there, but he couldn't figure out how to find who had broken four minutes for the one-mile race. That was all he needed.
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