My HS team had a dual meet against the defending league champs (including the defending individual district champion). My brother, a high 19 min runner, lines up in the front row at the start and says he's "gonna go for it." Before anyone can ask him what the crap he means, the gun goes off and he tears into nearly a full sprint. On this course, there's a hill 150m into the race. At the top of the hill, a sharp left turn, down the hill along a thick tree-lined creek.
By the time the sane field is at the top of the hill, he had seriously gapped the field and was already down the other side and out of sight into the woods. As we turned along the creek, the entire field passes my bro, who is laying on the side of the trail, rubbing his head, with a mixed look of pain/confusion on his face.
About 1.5 miles into the race, we pass our team's camp, and I see my bro again, lying on his back again, but this time with the team manager straddling him, with a pair of plyers at his forehead.
I finished and wandered back to the camp, and he's holding a paper towel to his his head. He said rather than have the field come running by him as he was going into the funky chicken, he decided to go down in a blaze of glory, and purposely ran into a group of small bushes. What he didn't count on was a stick jabbing him in the head, and ultimately getting caught there. He later went to the hospital to get the cut closed, but only needed one stitch, earning him the nickname "Stitch," that stayed with him through HS.