The Running Diaries: Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Two

Jimmy Springer, May 2016

Tired and disoriented, Jimmy tried to keep his balance. Raising his head, he forced himself onto the infield, out of the way of the finishers. Here, the man he was looking for was waiting for him.

“Good race, Jayson,” He extended a sweaty palm.

The blonde-haired runner grabbed the outstretched hand. Displaying a pallet of surprise, disappointment and fatigue, he smiled. “Great job,” he replied. “I really thought I had you.” He shook his head in amazement, “But it just wasn’t enough.”

“It took everything I had, man.” Jimmy wobbled unsteadily as he tried to walk forward to the water tent. “Sorry-I gotta sit down for a sec.”

“Doesn’t sound like too bad an idea.” Jayson said, plopping down next to him.

“And the winner,” The field announcer’s booming voice echoed around the track, “-by just two tenths of a second-is Jimmy Springer!” The crowd clapped vigorously as they found out what the two athletes had already known. 

“What was our time?”

“Dunno, I stopped paying attention after the mile split.” Jayson scratched his head and looked up at the stands in front of him, scanning for someone he would recognize. His eyes stopped 10 rows up. Happily, he waved toward a section of the stands. Jimmy watched him enviously, having long since given up his spectator search.

After a brief respite, the large school boys gathered at the medal stand for their award ceremony. Jimmy stood, waiting behind the podium in his orange and blue uniform with Miller on one side and a boy from Bonner High School on his other. They both seemed excited. But Jimmy? He merely felt relieved. Well, relieved and tired.

“… Third place, with a time of 9 minutes and 8.64 seconds: Tom Seeley …”

The crowd applauded appreciatively as the boy in white and green stepped up onto the wooden awards podium. He beamed as an official placed the bronze medal around his neck.

“… Second place, with a time of 9 minutes and 1.47 seconds, the third fastest performer in state history, Jayson Miller from Manheim Township …”

Jayson stepped up the podium as the fans erupted for their local champion. He looked mildly surprised at the announcement of the time. Pleased, but not quite content. From just behind him, Jimmy cursed himself quietly in his head. Based on the announcement after the race, he was merely two tenths of a second ahead of Jayson’s time. That meant he barely missed the state record for a second straight week.

“… And in first place, with a time of 9 minutes and 1.29 seconds, the 2^nd fastest time in Pennsylvania State History, for the third straight year, ladies and gentleman, give it up for Jimmy Springer!”

Jimmy stepped up onto the podium as the race official strode forward to hang the gold around his neck. The medal felt heavy as it weighed against his chest.

Mark Miller, May 2016

As Jayson trudged off the track, with the silver around his neck, Mark rushed forward, trying to weave through huddled masses of spectators.

“Sorry,” He called over his shoulder as he bumped into a passerby wearing a maroon t-shirt. But he didn’t stop. He wanted to get to his brother as quickly as possible. Hopefully to celebrate achievement rather than lament failure.

It had been ages since he had even seen Jayson lose a race. Now he was handed defeat on a stage Mark knew he had dreamed about for years. Heck, he’d even hung a picture of Jimmy Springer in his room for extra motivation. So to be edged out of your dream goal by merely two tenths of a second? That had to sting. No-worse than sting. Much worse. It had to hurt too much to even try and describe it with conventional language.

“Jayson!” He called, spotting the tall figure looking around the throng for a familiar face. His brother turned to face him and presented a broad grin.

“Hey bro,” He responded extending out his arms. Mark pulled him into a deep embrace. “Thanks for coming out to watch.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” They released one another. Mark stared into his brother’s face, hoping to discern his emotions. A smile was plastered across its surface, but it was covering another emotion. He just couldn’t pin point exactly what it was.

“Jayson!”

“There’s my boy!”

The Miller parents, accompanied by Jayson’s girlfriend, Lauren Johnson, emerged from the horde to greet their sons. His father looked proud and strong, his mother more sympathetic. Mark could tell she was itching to plant a hug and kiss on her eldest, but she defaulted to Lauren for first dibs.

“Thanks for coming out guys,” Jayson said, the same beam on display, “Heck of a race, huh?” He rotated through his hug obligations. After he and his mother broke apart, he pulled out his silver medal from his pocket and hung it around her neck. She wore it with honor, although she looked a tad upset about the amount of sweat on the string.

“You did amazing, Jayson! We were all so impressed!” Mrs. Miller remarked, “Such a great performance.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” Lauren continued, looking up in awe at her boyfriend, “Third fastest runner in state history! That’s unbelievable.”

“I couldn’t have done it without all of your guys support. It really means a lot.” Jayson looked around at each of their faces, the ends of his mouth drifting farther down. “I gotta go do a quick cool down before I get too tight,” He said, beginning to pry himself from his admirers, “But I’ll catch up with you guys soon and we can talk more about everything.” He turned to leave.

“You want some company?” Mark asked, removing his draw string bag from his shoulders. “If you give me a sec, I can throw on some shoes.”

“Yeah, sure. That’d be great.” He waited patiently as Mark hurriedly changed. “Never as much fun to run alone.”

Jimmy Springer, cont.

Jimmy trudged off the track with his spikes hoisted over his shoulder. He spared a brief glance up at the stands. As expected, the person he was looking for was not there. Inwardly, he scolded himself for even getting his hopes up. You should know better by now. Head down, he tried to skirt off back toward the dormitories.

“Jimmy!” A voice called back over his shoulder. He turned eagerly around, looking for the source of the shout. To his disappointment, he spotted a tall, bearded man walking toward him, accompanied by a younger boy with a small video camera. It was Dan Richardson, the head administrator for local website VaniaRunning.com. The site covered all of the Pennsylvania Track and Field action, posting results, articles and video interviews. After years of signature victories, Jimmy was no stranger to the last of these items.

“Hey Dan, how’s it going?” Jimmy asked, removing himself from the throng of fans and waiting in an open area for the pair of writers.

“Do you mind if we steal you for a quick interview?” Dan asked, having reached his target.

“Nah, go for it.” He stared into the camera lens as it stared back unblinkingly. A small light flashed on.

“We’re here with Jimmy Springer of Union Valley High School, this year’s state champion in the 3200 with the second fastest time in state history. Congrats, Jimmy.” The interviewer stuck a small microphone under his nose.

“Thanks, Dan. I appreciate it.” He responded lazily, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“Now Jimmy, looks like you went out pretty fast in this one-especially compared to last week. Just walk me through the strategy and how you feel the execution went.”

“Sure-yeah-I really just wanted to give myself a shot at the state record. You know, unlike last week. And-uh-I guess I got a little too excited.” He kept his arms uncomfortably behind his back, unsure what to do with them as he continued to respond to questions.

“Now when Miller went by you on the last lap, what was going through your mind?”

“Well, I think something like ‘I’m really tired’,” he laughed dryly, but Dan’s focused expression did not break. It rattled him slightly, as he wiped the smile from his face. “But-uh-I don’t know. I just knew I had to hang on as best I could. Hurt pretty bad, but I really didn’t want to lose.”

“It was certainly one heck of a race. And, of course, next fall we could see another one since you and Jayson Miller will both be returning as seniors. You think you guys can push each other to that Hershey course record?”

“Um … we’ll see, I guess. You know, a lot can happen between now and then.” He paused. There was something he felt compelled to say. Something he had been considering for the past month. “Honestly, I’m not positive I’ll be racing again next year.”

Richardson’s jaw dropped. “Wait-not racing?”

“I’m just tired,” he pressed on, the words now tumbling forth with ease. “I put a lot of pressure on myself-whether it’s practice or competitions-and I’m just sort of burnt out.”

“But-but,” his interviewer stumbled, trying to regain his professionalism after being blindsided by the news, “You’re number two all-time in state history-for two events. Don’t you want to take one more-”

“Yeah, you see, that’s the problem. It sounds great to be second all time. But finishing second sucks. And every time I come up just short like today, it’s a real punch in the gut.

“Those records are records for a reason, you know? I may not be good enough to break them. People treat me like-like a super hero or something … but I’m just a normal kid. So when I fall short of the heroic, it just hurts worse. Sometimes the reality of those moments-coming up short like that-I don’t know, it’s just … heavy. And I’m getting tired of carrying it around.”

I’ve lost a lot away from the track. Losing on it might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

“Keep up the good work, Dan.” And he turned away from the camera’s piercing gaze, plunging himself into solitude once more.

Mark Miller, cont.

“OK, it’s just you and me now,” Mark said as he and his brother strode around an empty baseball diamond. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m actually doing alright.”

“C’mon Jay, don’t give me that bull sh-”

“No, seriously. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m miserable. It sucks to be that close and come up short. But, it’s weird. I kinda thought it would hurt a lot worse.”

“Maybe the reality hasn’t sunk in yet? That’s happened to you before. Like remember when we lost that basketball tournament in Ephrata? You were fine all the way through pizza dinner and then on the car ride home …”

Jayson chuckled. “I cried like a broken sprinkler. Yeah, that was a rough one.” He smiled wryly. They circled past third base and off toward a football field in the opposite direction of the track. Mark felt a rock skip up into his poorly tied shoes.

“Still, I feel like that’s not it.” The oldest brother continued. “It’s more like … remember the time we met Joe Flacco on vacation a couple years ago?”

“Yeah of course. He was actually really nice. Autographed my bathing suit for me.”

“Exactly! Yet all this time we were hyping him up as this villain who used to knock the Steelers out of the playoffs. So we just hated him. We wanted nothing more than to beat him. But when we met him and he went back to being a normal person, it made the idea of hating him seem pretty silly. It wasn’t him we wanted to beat so much as the idea of him. What he represents.”

The rock continued to bounce around inside Mark’s shoe, but he tried his best to ignore it. “So what does the quarterback of the Ravens have to do with the two mile?”

“Last year at states, I reached out my hand to Jimmy Springer-just to say good luck before the race, you know-and he ignored me. I thought he was a jerk. Then, watching him win all those races, doing post-race interviews, I got it in my head that he was not only a jerk, but a huge show off too. I wanted nothing more than to go out and put him in his place.” They finished the perimeter of the football field. “I trained like a madman with the sole focus of doing just that.

“But today, when I met him … well … he knew my name.”

“Knew your name?” Mark responded puzzled.

“Yeah-for whatever reason, that really struck me. He’s just another kid. Training, racing … winning. And this whole time, I’ve been training against the ‘idea’ of Jimmy Springer. This great, powerful villain. But today, he was racing just another kid. So of course he had the edge.” Together the two slowed to a stop as they reached the gate that bordered the track. “Next time, though, I’ll be racing just another kid, too.”

Mark raised his arm and pulled his brother to his side. “Great race out there, bro. I’m really proud of what you’ve accomplished today.”

“Thanks,” Jayson said, squeezing Mark’s waist slightly before stooping down to the ground and untying his shoes. “I guess second best isn’t the worst thing in the world, right?”

The youngest Miller joined the eldest on the pavement. “As long as there’s more than two of you,” he smirked.

Jayson smiled back before removing his right shoe and shaking it out upside-down. A small rock fell from the heel and danced briefly across the concrete below. Mark watched it move until it came to rest. Then he slipped off his own shoe and copied his brother.