At this moment a party of four hale and hearty men still in the young prime are about to compete in the “double race.” They come forward all rubbed with the glistening oil, and crouch at the starting point behind the red cord held by two attendants. The gymnasiarch stands watchfully by, swinging his cane to smite painfully whoever, in over eagerness, breaks away before the signal. All is ready; at his nod the rope falls. The four fly away together, pressing their elbows close to their sides, and going over the soft sands with long rhythmic leaps, rather than with the usual rapid running motion. A fierce race it is, amid much exhortation from friends and shouting. At length, as so often—when speeding back towards the stretched cord,—the rearmost runner suddenly gathers amazing speed, and, flying with prodigious leaps ahead of his rivals, is easily the victor. His friends are at once about him, and we hear the busy tongues advising, “You must surely race at the Pythia; the Olympia; etc.” This simple race over, a second quickly follows: five heavy, powerful men this time, but they are to run in full hoplite’s armor—the ponderous shield, helmet, cuirass, and greaves. This is the exacting “Armor Race” (_Hoplitodromos_), and safe only for experienced soldiers or professional athletes.[*] Indeed, the Greeks take all their foot races seriously, and there are plenty of instances when the victor has sped up to the goal, and then dropped dead before the applauding stadium. There are no stop watches in the Academy; we do not know the records of the present or of more famous runners; yet one may be certain that the “time” made, considering the very soft sand, has been exceedingly fast. [*] It was training in races like these which enabled the Athenians at Marathon to “charge the Persians on the run” (Miltiades’ orders), all armored though they were, and so get quickly through the terrible zone of the Persian arrow fire.