I raced a road mile a few years ago that went up a hill and back down. I hadn't raced a mile since high school but was in around 5-minute shape. When the gun went off, I settled into the chase pack behind the big names at the race, and soon found myself leading it. I could hear one set of footsteps in particular dogging me the whole way up. As soon as we hit the downhill, I just put the hammer down and ran the life out of me. With a few hundred meters left, I could still hear the footsteps, so I went into full-on sprint beast mode. Seconds later, a kid went flying by me and ended up beating me by 4 or 5 seconds. After I finished and stopped dry-heaving, I congratulated him on his kick. He said "I kept waiting for you to sprint but you didn't, so I just passed you." I told him I'm more of a marathoner than a miler, and he said "Oh, I don't run. I just play soccer."