Amy Dixon - Marathon Mouse

Text copyright 2012 by Amy Dixon Illustration copyright 2012 by Sam Denlinger All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018. Sky Pony Press books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications. For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Sky Pony Press, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or info@skyhorsepublishing.com.

Sky Pony is a registered trademark of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc., a Delaware corporation. Visit our website at www.skyponypress.com. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Manufactured in China, July 2012
This product conforms to CPSIA 2008 Dixon, Amy, 1975 Marathon mouse / written by Amy Dixon ; illustrated by Sam Denlinger. p. cm. Summary: Preston the mouse has always dreamed of running in the New York City Marathon and even when his family says he cannot do it, Preston refuses to let go of his dream-- Provided by publisher.

ISBN 978-1-61608-966-5 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. New York City Marathon--Juvenile fiction. [1. New York City Marathon--Fiction. 2.

Marathon running--Fiction. 3. Running--Fiction. 4. Perserverance (Ethics)--Fiction. 5.

Mice--Fiction. 6. New York (N.Y.)--Fiction.] I. Denlinger, Sam, ill. II. Title.

PZ7.D6417Mar 2012 [E]--dc23 2012020056 Every New York City mouse dreamed of living under the bridge between Brooklyn and Staten Island. There, they didnt have to dodge taxicabs or escape hungry sewer cats. And when they wanted to visit, the bustling city was just a hop, skip, and a scamper away. But there was one day each year that their life under the bridge was not so dreamy... ... All those feet running willy-nilly over the bridge! Mama exclaimed. All those feet running willy-nilly over the bridge! Mama exclaimed.

Some mouse could be crushed! Most mice in New York City agreed that it was the worst day of the whole year. They would cower in corners, shrink into the shadows, and hole up in their homes. But there was one mouse who disagreed ... ... and that was Mamas son Preston. Preston dreamed of being a runner.

Most nights before bed, he would read his Charlie Cheddarworth comics and think about how an ordinary mouse could do something extraordinary. Schoolmouse by day, exterminator of evil by night, Charlie Cheddarworth used his super-rodent speed to hunt down and defeat even the stickiest mousetraps. Preston wanted to be extraordinary too. Hed drift off to sleep wearing his Super-Cheddar cape, imagining the applause of the crowd as he crossed the finish line. Mice would make excellent marathoners, Preston told his family. We have twice as many legs! Mice, Papa argued, were not made to run.

We scamper, we scurry, and sometimes we even scuttle. But we certainly do not run. His sisters Priscilla and Portia teased him about it. You? Run 26.2 miles? With those stubby little legs? What next? Climbing Mt. Everest? So, when Preston decided he was going to run in the New York City Marathon, he told no one. He lifted weights. He lifted weights.

He stretched his legs. He even gave up his beloved marshmallows. And he ran. When Mama asked if he could scamper out and fetch supper, Preston ran. When Papa asked if he could scurry on up to the newspaper bin to get more padding for their nest, Preston ran. Each day, he woke up before the rest of his family to run, and each day, he would go a bit further.

Preston ran and ran until the day of the marathon arrived. Preston loved waking up to the sounds of marathon day. Buses rumbled in from Midtown to drop off masses of runners. Trucks hummed as they waited to take the racers gear to the finish line. Jackets swished as people tried to stay warm in the crisp fall air. Usually, Preston listened to the ruckus tucked tightly in his nest, but this year was different.

This year, he slipped out from underneath the bridge and lined up amid a sea of sneakers. There were hot pink, ocean blue, and green sneakers with yellow spots. He saw glittered soles, rainbow laces, and shoes that looked like socks! Some mouse could be crushed! Mamas words cut into his thoughts. Preston could feel his breakfast swirling around in his belly. The feet surrounding him suddenly seemed to grow bigger. The shoes were no longer bright and beautiful.