Almighty Dad | A stay at home dad blog

Friday’s Story #14

2 Written by Keith on October 16, 2009 – 1:49 pm

Saturday Afternoon

By Keith Wilcox

John was going through his typical pre-race warm-up routine.  It consisted of standing around talking to his friends who had come to watch him win – again.  Cross Country had become a big deal at his school since John came to campus.  The sport had been a quixotic activity engaged in by overly metabolized nerdy boys.  Then John showed up, won every race and became the savior of the sport’s image.  It wasn’t that John was cool or that he wasn’t a nerdy guy just like all the other runners.  It was that he won, and everybody likes a winner.  He was confident despite his waifish frame and despite his otherwise natural reticence.  He wasn’t sure when he found his gift.  It was certainly before the 1st grade; even then he remembered his classmates taking turns trying to beat him in a race around the school building; still, he never lost.  Slowly, through the years leading up to his third year of High School, he began to disappreciate his gift.

Competition became suddenly difficult when he started 9th grade.  Athletes trained; John had never trained.  He almost lost his first race of that first year, but he held on through the last mile out of sheer guts and determination.  He threw up immediately after the race and was sick for the next two days afterwards.  He realized he would need to put in some distance if he expected to keep winning.  His Freshman and his Sophomore year passed by and he managed to maintain his carefree image.  His teammates saw him training in practice; there was no choice but to run with them.  But, John always made a show of his laziness.  It was important to sustain his invincible image.  Superman, after all, was never reduced to lifting weights.  Likewise, though he was no superman, John needed people to think his quickness was preordained.  He frequently ran in sandals or ran while eating his lunch or stopped to talk to people on the street just to resume and catch up to the pack up the street.  It was all a game.  His performance in practice was what he wanted people to see.  What they never saw though, were his midnight runs; his real training took place when nobody was looking.  Thus he maintained the visage.

So, again, with concealed trepidation, John prepared for this race.  He dreaded the hills.  The hated the sound of feet behind him, catching up to him, and he, pushing his body further just to maintain a respectable distance.  It gave him goosebumps thinking of the pain he was about to put himself though.  But, he talked to his friends like he was about to walk through a door and meet them on the other side.  Truthfully, he stopped enjoying running in the 6th grade.  It was his duty to do this though.  “With great power comes great responsibility.”  He knew he wasn’t a superhero, but he kept telling himself that anyway.  Other people couldn’t run like he could run.  He shouldn’t selfishly throw it away while he was still able to entertain.

Today might be the day he lost for the first time.  In 7th grade he lost a race; nobody knew it though.  He lost to a girl, but it was so close that he was given the win.  He knew the truth; she had leaned into the finish line an inch ahead of him.  It was terrible to have to take the win.  Even the school administrators had been complicit in the sham.  The girl was new to school.  She had come from Texas, Dallas, a big city.  That’s when John knew for sure he was going to lose badly some day.  That’s when his small town confidence had started to break.  But, surprisingly to him, he kept getting better and kept winning.

Still…

The team they were racing against came from school three times bigger than their own.  They arrived in two buses.  John knew it was going to be another team loss.  Team loss or not, he still had to find a way to take the individual win.  The other 6 guys wearing orange were already at the starting line.  He had to go.  The blue team, the visitors, were making their way there too.  John walked among the opposing team.  He said “Hey, nice day isn’t it?”  He also said  “So, I’ve got to go ahead and beat all of you, huh?  Well, alright, if you insist.”  He smiled and said  “Good luck!” as he and the other team lined up perpendicular to the starting gun.

The puff of smoke and the bang happened at virtually the same time; and the race was on.  John tucked in behind the lead runner less than one foot behind him and slightly to the right.  It was a perfect drafting position.  He kept his breath silent but made his feet loud.  He would pass this guy in a mile or so; after the demoralization was complete.

He heard, behind him, feet; he felt a presence.  Somebody was drafting off of him.  He passed a group of his friends at the end of the cart path and at the intersection of the first turn up the first hill.  He had home field advantage.  Thank God.

Related posts:

1. Friday’s Story #15
2. Friday’s Story #4
3. Friday’s Story #6 — Part 2
4. Friday’s Story #6
5. Friday’s Story #6 — Part 3
6. Friday’s Story #6 — The End
7. Friday’s Story #12
8. Friday’s Story #5
9. Friday’s Story #11
10. Friday’s Story #9