Alan Webb can't stand still.

He's popping from foot to foot, bending and stretching. He rolls his neck, touches his toes. He needs to stay loose for the explosion to come—the start of the 2000 Foot Locker High-School Cross-Country Championships. Webb wears headphones blasting a loud rock beat. Hard, rhythmic, energizing rock. "I like music that gets me pumped up," he says. "Music that psychs me up."

Inside his head, guitars shriek and drums reverberate, but on this day Webb hardly hears them. He is distracted by another sound, far more insistent than the music: His own voice. His mantra. His reason for being, in this frozen moment.