The Running Diaries: Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Five

Jimmy Springer, May 2016

Dropping to his knees, he hastily stuffed his spilled items back into his bag as his friend stormed away. Picking up the gold medal last, he tossed it angrily into the sack. As he did so, he heard a small cracking sound.

Damn it.

Diving back into the pack, he pulled out his phone, now with a freshly cracked screen. Jimmy closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. The day was spiraling quickly and he was finding it difficult to keep his composure. Then, suddenly, the object in his hand buzzed and its damaged surface sprang to life. He opened his eyes and looked down to see who was calling.

“Hello?” He answered tentatively.

“Hey, Jimmy?” The voice on the other end said, with a similar note of hesitancy, “Are you still here? I’ve been looking for you.”

“What do you mean by ‘here’? Are you at Shippensburg?”

“Yeah, man! Did you get my texts? I’m in the stands. Top right corner.”

“I wouldn’t expect you anywhere else,” Jimmy replied, his tone rising in excitement. “I’ll be right up.”

The announcer sounded again as Jimmy hung up the phone and set off at a brisk walk out from under the stadium. “Chris Fuller makes the pass as we head into the exchange. Coatesville will be next, followed by Baldwin and then West Chester North!” After a few quick stairs, he spotted the man he was looking for in the corner he had described. Springer rushed forward to greet his old friend.

“Matt!” He said, arms open.

“Hey, great job out there superstar,” Matt greeted him in an embrace. “You really had me on the edge of my seat.”

“Nothing easy at states,” Jimmy replied simply, taking the spot next to him and turning to watch the track, “Speaking of which, how’s this race been going?”

“Eh, nothing too surprising … Looks like Coatesville and North Penn will be battling it out,” He gestured ahead at a pair of runners, one in black and one in blue.

“Who led off for Coatesville?” Jimmy asked, leaning forward and watching the two teams come into the second exchange. They were followed closely by a mass of teams in purple, red and white.

“Couldn’t tell ya. I barely recognize anyone anymore,” Matt responded, scanning the field, “It makes me feel quite old actually.”

Jimmy looked away from the race to inspect the runners waiting alongside the track. He recognized one of the stronger runners in black from Coatesville’s Cross Country team. “Oh crap, they’re anchoring Kyle King!” He remarked in surprise. The junior looked at Matt, but the revelation seemed to go over his head. “What happened to you, man? You used to be good at this stuff!”

“And you used to not know who Steve Prefontaine was.”

“Here comes West Chester North! A huge leg from junior Will Aldrich! He’s now powering away from Coatesville and will give his team the lead as we move to the anchor leg!” They watched as a powerful close from a runner in white propelled his school to the lead. Just behind was a runner in blue as the runner in black struggled home along the final straightaway. Then, as quickly as West Chester had moved to the lead, the two anchors just behind him shot off like fireworks. “Coatesville and North Penn both out very fast on this anchor leg! It’s back to a two team race. Kyle King for the Raiders against Bernard Mirun for the Knights!”

“North Penn’s got to win this, right?” Matt asked as he watched the blue runner, stalked carefully by Kyle King. “The 4x8 is, like, their thing. And Coatesville’s just an XC power. They usually don’t have the horses for mid distance.”

“I’m not sure that’s the case anymore,” Jimmy cautioned, “Coach Solares has turned these guys into super heroes.” The crowd rose as one as the two relays came off the final turn, North Penn still holding a lead and seemingly opening the gap. Then, empowered by the crowd, Kyle King turned it up to another level and sprinted forward.

“Oh my god,” Matt muttered, watching the victorious squad celebrate their victory. “What is he feeding these guys?”

“I don’t know … but I’d love to get his recipe.”

Ben Havleck, May 2016

“You’re kidding, right? That’s not actually what you said …”

“I mean, it was a really big upset. I just got a little excited. I think that’s perfectly natural.”

“Yes, it is perfectly natural to get a little excited in that situation. But sounds like you went about it the wrong way.”

Ben smirked. “Honestly, I don’t think she was really my type. She’s too tall.”

“Did you ever think maybe you might be too short?

He rolled his eyes. Although his friend could not see it, he hoped his tone implied it. “Well regardless, it doesn’t matter. She wasn’t the right girl for me anyway.”

“Whatever you say, champ,” Neal’s voice reverberated in his ear. “So what time am I picking you up?”

Ben checked down at his watch. It was now almost five o’clock. Currently, he was riding the bus back from the PAL Track and Field State Championships at Shippensburg University to his adopted hometown of Bloomsburg. On the phone with him was Neal Simons, his coworker and friend from the local Barnes and Noble bookstore. Since Neal lived just around the corner from the station, he had offered to pick Ben up once his bus had arrived.

“Probably another hour or so,” Ben estimated, “I can text you when I start to recognize some landmarks, but for now just pencil me in for about 6 o’clock.”

“Alright sweet. Did you want to grab dinner afterwards? Bryn and Jared invited us out with them.”

“Maybe. I have to check something on my email first.”

“Can’t you just do that on your phone right now?”

“No. I’ve still got a dumb phone, remember?”

“Oh, right. Well, what is it you have to check? I can do it for you right now if you want.”

“It’s this application thing,” Ben hesitated for a brief second, but then decided he was comfortable enough with Neal to share.  “I applied to this internship program at Georgetown and I just want to make sure all my references went through.”

“Yo, that’s awesome! I didn’t know you were applying for one of those.”

“Yeah, my friend Nicole told me about it actually. During our last study session.”

“Ah yes, I remember your ‘friend’ Nicole,” Neal replied playfully.

“What-we are just friends.”

“Sure. And I guess I’m ‘just friends’ with Gal Gadot.”

“You don’t even know Gal Gadot,” Ben answered frustrated.

“When’s the next time you’re seeing her?” Neal continued, ignoring his comment.

“I don’t know, hopefully sometime next week. We’ve got to start getting ready for finals.”

“Well, you better make sure you look at all those track results tonight then-”

“-Good bye, Neal-”

“Gotta get all that excitement out of your system if you know what I-” And his voice abruptly disappeared as Ben ended the call.

Jimmy Springer, cont.

“So you came.” Jimmy said simply.

“So I came.” The excitement of the relay now fully having died away, the pair sat back down and decompressed. A group of volunteers began moving hurdles onto the track. “I stuck Emily with my mom and my sister for the day. Hopefully, she’s not too pissed at me. I just didn’t want to miss you race again.”

“Well, I appreciate you coming all the way up. It means a lot.”

“Of course, bro.” He brushed a strand of stray hair off his shorts. “How many state titles is this now?”

“8,” Jimmy said sheepishly. Feeling awkward, he started stretching his arms.

“No need to feel uncomfortable about it.” Matt reached out and pull his closest limb down to its side. “Own it. There’s no shame in being the best. There’s no shame in being the worst. There’s only shame in trying to be something you’re not.”

The younger nodded, feeling marginally more at ease. “You were always big on speeches. Kinda makes me sad to know you’ll be sitting in a cube crunching finance numbers all day.”

“Well, when giving speeches starts paying as much finance does, feel free to send in my résumé. Besides, it’s a lot more interactive than you think. In fact, just yesterday …”

With the hurdles set up, the gun sounded to start the next set of races. From their top corner of the stands, Jimmy and Matt had an excellent view of the track. In between events, they talked and caught up on life. Then, once a distance race began, they set to work on analyzing it. It reminded Jimmy of his freshman year at the state championships two years earlier when the two had initially discovered this corner. Uncrowded, direct sightline. The perfect place to properly post up as fans and friends. He missed those days. They felt like a lifetime ago. Or perhaps not his life at all. Was it even possible there was a time that he was so carefree and innocent?

When they eventually reached the final distance event of the meet, the 800 meters, the weather had cooled slightly and the wind had picked up a touch. As the competitors lined up for the race, Jimmy noticed how bulky and muscular many of them looked. He imagined himself, a year smaller and lighter, lining up among these giants and smirked. To think that just twelve months earlier, he had been able to win this event was astounding to him.

“Who you got in this one?” Matt asked as the athletes jogged down to the start line. “Give me a break down.”

“OK,” Jimmy said, pointing to the athletes one by one, “That’s Andrew Mallon from CB East. He won the 800 indoors and is probably the favorite. We’ve also got Joseph Rotz from Lower Dauphin. He anchored his 4x8 all the way up to third-”

“Oh yeah! That guy came from way back! He may have split like a 1:50.”

“We’ll see how much he has left after that. Same goes for Bernard Murin of North Penn and Kyle King from Coatesville. They both anchored their 4x8s as well.”

“So who is fresh that can put some pressure on these guys?”

“Well I’m not sure anybody is going to push the pace quite like last year. Remember Lewis Hadrick?”

“Hell yeah, he used to go out sooo fast. By the way, did you see he ran 1:47 this year at NC State?”

“I saw him get his ass handed to him by Lance Andrews at ACCs if that’s what you’re referring to.”

“Geez, you know the NCAA guys too?” Matt replied, sounding impressed. “How do you keep up with all this stuff?”

“I don’t know. It’s just something I do to keep busy,” Jimmy looked down at the track for a moment, the runners on the verge of beginning their race. “Although to be fair, Lance Andrews is my favorite runner right now. He’s so tactically sound. So smooth. Plus, he always seems to step up when the pressure is on.”

“Well if you like Andrews and those sort of guys, there’s this mile race in Boston this summer. It’s going to have Andrews, Murphy, Lebowitz, all those guys. You should definitely come up and watch. You can crash with me.”

“I don’t know,” Springer responded tentatively, “I’d have to talk to my parents about it. Just to make sure I get permission.”

Matt waited a beat before deciding to press the question. “How are your parents doing? They’re not-um-they’re not here, are they?”

Jimmy shook his head. “No, they’re not. My mom is too afraid of running into my dad … and my dad works so much now that he can never make it down.” He sighed. “Ironic, right?” Matt nodded his head solemnly but otherwise did not speak. “When I get home, my mom and I will watch the replay of the race on the Pennsylvania Cable Network. My dad … I don’t know, honestly. We’ll figure something out, I guess. If he cares.”

“I’m sure he does.”

BANG!

The gun sounded, signaling the start of the 800 meter dash. Any retort that Jimmy may have had was lost in the excitement of the moment. Unlike the race he participated in a year earlier, the pace was relatively tame through the opening 200 meters. As a result, the athletes were packed tightly together. A runner in a red and blue singlet reluctantly took up the lead and worked to keep things honest.

“It’s slow,” Jimmy muttered under his breath as the competitors approached the first lap split. “Do you have a watch on this?”

“No,” Matt replied, “You?” Jimmy raised up a pair of bare wrists as a substitute for a response. “How do you still not own a watch?”

“Looks like 56-57,” He ignored Matt’s question, focused instead on the large scoreboard projecting the time that had elapsed in the race thus far, “This second lap is going to be mayhem.”

“The key is to measure it out,” Burke explained, rising to his feet as the crowd’s enthusiasm increased, “You can’t use up all that extra energy in the first 200 or you won’t have anything left.”

“It’s also impossible to switch gears that fast.”

“True.”

As the runners careened down the backstretch, elbows and legs became tangled as each competitor felt compelled to pick up the pace as soon as possible. Although no one fell to the ground, it was tricky to build momentum. The runner in blue and red was able to stay clear, maintaining his position at the front with careful surges. Just before 200 meters, a runner in white increased his tempo, trying to rush forth and beat the leader to the turn. However, he was too late in his effort, forced to run wide and cover the extra distance.

“It’s Andrew Mallon and Joseph Rotz with 200 meters to go!” The announcer boomed over the loudspeaker. The fervor around them intensified as the spectators cheered on the two top athletes. Jimmy watched keenly as the runner in red and blue, Andrew Mallon, got to the home straightaway first. Rotz hung just on his outside shoulder, ready to rally one more time and try to make the pass.

“Rotz has got him!” Jimmy yelled, his voice nearly drowned out by the tumult. He watched as, on que, the runner in white glided a step ahead, pumping his arms furiously. Then, suddenly, Matt grabbed his arm and tugged.

“Look at Coatesville!” He pointed him in the direction of a streaking black jersey. In a repeat of the finish of the 4x800 meters, Coatesville’s Kyle King flashed down the final forty, turning over quickly, no signs of tying up. Meanwhile, his nearest competitors had no response for him. With a courageous ultimate charge, he pushed through the line and crossed in first place.

“Wow,” Matt remarked simply, as fans across the bleachers reacted similarly, “That was unreal. Where did this kid come from?”

“That closing speed is unreal. I had no clue he had that in him. Just a junior too.” They sat back down in their seats, the excitement starting to dissipate.

“Is he any good at cross? Like are you gonna have to worry about him in the fall?”

“Well, actually,” Jimmy said, averting his friends gaze, “I don’t think I’m running cross country this fall.”

“Wait-really? Why not?” He could hear the shock in his friend’s voice.

“I just feel like my heads not in it,” he replied, still not looking up, “I may just need a break. Take a little time away from it. Then, hopefully, when I come back, I’ve got something to motivate me.” He chanced a glance upward to gauge Matt’s reaction. No mouth agape, just a smile.  

“OK,” he replied, the surprise removed from his tone, “Well I hope you do.”

“That’s it? You aren’t gonna, like, tell me quitters never prosper or some other dad speech like that?”

“Look, running is a brutal sport. It’s painful enough when you’re having fun.” He gestured down at the state champ Kyle King, who was currently bent over a trashcan re-familiarizing himself with his lunch.  “Can’t imagine it gets any better if you’re not.”

Jimmy contemplated King as well. He looked absolutely miserable, yet somehow incredibly happy. “Have you ever thrown up after a race before?” He asked.

“Yeah, a few times. Including a couple weeks ago actually. Coach had me do the 4x4 and then-boom. Everywhere.” He crinkled his nose.

“What was it like?”

“It was mostly water-but also some eggs. Don’t think I should have had those-”

“No, gross,” Jimmy said, shaking his head in disgusted, “I mean what did it feel like?”

“I don’t know. It just felt like puking. Haven’t you ever puked before?”

“Yeah, but never from a race.”

“Trust me, you aren’t missing much,” Matt leaned back in his position on the stands.

“You don’t think it’s, like, an effort thing?” Jimmy replied, much less at ease, “Like I haven’t been pushing myself enough?”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it. I think it’s just a tolerance thing. Some people are naturally more prone to it than others.” A group of sprinters were now organizing their starting blocks on the track. “Now can we please stop talking about vomit? I’m getting grossed out.”

“Sure,” Jimmy nodded, not completely reassured, but willing to move on. “What would you prefer?”

“So yesterday, I was in the bathroom, right? And I had just been to Chipotle-”

“You’re the worst.” 

Mark Miller, May 2016

“Mark, are you coming back home with us?”

“Yeah, one sec,” Mark waved goodbye to his family before darting back over to join his friends. The state meet had reached its conclusion, thus officially closing the last athletics season of his sophomore year. Feeling wistful, he climbed into the backseat of the car, as Tom strapped in up front and prepared to drive.

“Well that’s it. Another season in the books,” Ian remarked. Apparently sharing his sentiment, he looked out at the nearly empty Shippensburg track stadium. Only a few minutes earlier it been packed edge to edge with spectators. “You think we’ll ever be good enough to run here?”

“Maybe,” Mark said, turning his head forward as the car began its drive, “But I think we have a better chance of making it for cross country at Hershey. We should have a solid team next year.”

“Yes! I was just saying the same thing!” Ian exclaimed, hitting Tom in the arm, “Right?”

“Yeah, he was bragging to Jimmy Springer about it.” He replied nonchalantly, rubbing his right arm gingerly.

“I wasn’t bragging to him about it,” Ian replied, “Plus, he wished me good luck which was pretty cool-”

“Wait-you were being serious?” Mark asked in amazement, “You guys actually met Jimmy Springer? When?”

“Yeah, we didn’t tell you?” Tom said, his voice rising now with his own enthusiasm. “We met him in the bathroom.”

“How’d it go?”

“Um, it seemed like everything came out fine. He was just peeing-”

“No-not that. Never that. I meant what was he like?”

“Oh, right. Well, he seemed like a pretty normal guy,” Tom replied. Now stopped at a red light, he turned around to look at Mark. “I feel like he was super locked in, you know? Very focused. Probably one of those kind of runners.”

“But he wasn’t a jerk or anything? I’ve heard he’s pretty cocky.”

“No, he seemed nice enough. Maybe confident though. I could see him getting upset if someone tried to step to him or something.”

“Oh my gosh! We barely even talked to him,” Ian interjected loudly. “He’s just a fast runner. He’s not some celebrity. You guys really need to scale it back.”

“Ian … you got a selfie with him.”

“Touché.”

After a brief spot of traffic, Tom had navigated them back onto the highway with open roads in front of them.

“Anyway,” Ian continued, “let’s get back to this cross country thing. How good do you think our team could be next year? I mean we’ve got Jayson, the Reilly Twins, Pasterano and Delaney all coming back. We lose Hilton and Garraway, but I bet most teams lose a lot more.”

“What’s Cumberland Valley bringing back?” Tom asked, carefully switching lanes, “That Hartzel kid was a junior right?”

“Yeah, and he’s pretty good. He was top 25 last year.” Mark responded, “They’ve also got that kid in our grade. I think his name is Rich something.”

“Rich Brown,” Ian said venomously. “Hate that kid. He got one of the last spots into districts this year for the two mile.”

“So Cumby will still be good, but that’s to be expected. Who are the other good schools?”

“I couldn’t even begin to tell you,” Mark said, shaking his head, “Coatesville I assume? You saw them in the 4x8 today, they were absurd.”

“That Kyle King dude is a baller. I hate him, but he’s a baller.”

“You hate everyone, Ian.”  

Mark laughed as he took out his phone. “I’ll look up last year’s state results on VaniaRunners and we can use that as a barometer.”

“Ooo good idea,” Ian said, unhooking his seat belt and climbing into the back of the car to sit alongside him.

“Seriously?” Tom asked exasperatedly as he watched his friend in the rearview mirror, “Can you at least put your seatbelt back on once you’re back there?”

“I’ll be fine. You drive too slowly for me to be in any real danger in this thing.” He caught sight of Tom’s angry glare in the mirror and hastily pulled down the strap. “Ok, there-it’s on. Happy?” He shuffled closer to his friend and leaned down to look at the screen. “Now Mark, let’s see these results.”

“Out of the top three teams from last year,” Mark read aloud so that Tom could hear, “Coatesville returns 3 out of 7-”

“Woah, King is a junior?!” Ian interjected in surprise, “Damn, was hoping he’d have graduated.”

“Bonner returns 2 out of 7,” Mark continued unperturbed, “And Horsham brings back 3 out of 7 as well.”

“But none of those guys have more than 2 top 5 guys coming back. We’ve got our whole top 5 back.”  

“True,” Mark scrolled a little further down the page, “Cumberland Valley has 4 of 7 back and then, this team from out near Pittsburgh, North Allegheny, has 5 coming back. On paper, those two schools are the biggest competition.”

“Well, we beat North Albany last year-”

“-North Allegheny-”

“Whatever their name is, it doesn’t matter. I’m not afraid of them. Honestly, I think we’re the favorites to win states next year.” As Ian finished his thought, a hush fell over all of them, the gravity and scope of this realization hitting them. “That’s awesome.”

Jimmy Springer, cont.

“Take care of yourself this summer, alright?” Matt patted him gently on the shoulder.

“No guarantees,” Jimmy replied with a smile. The final race of the championships, the 4x400 meter relay, had just concluded meaning it was time for the two former teammates to depart in separate directions.

“I’ll be back home again in August,” Matt said, starting to walk backwards toward the parking lot, “Make sure you save me a night, ok? I may have something big to show you.”

“If this is another Chipotle joke, I swear I’ll punch you in the stomach.”

“Oh, it’s much better than that,” Matt winked, “You’ll have to stay tuned.” He turned his back on Jimmy and threw up his hand. “Until next time, superstar.”

“Until next time.” Jimmy stood and watched his friend disappear among the departing spectators. Then, with a small sigh, he removed the bag from his back and unzipped it, diving in to retrieve his car keys. As he searched, he came across his phone, complete with its freshly cracked screen. He pulled it out and held it carefully in the palm of his hand, trying to assess the damage. He tapped the home screen and was pleased to see he could still read the letters on its surface.

Looking through, he saw he had a few unopened text messages and missed calls, which he assumed had all come from Matt while the two were trying to find one another. He cycled through the notifications, looking to clear the red dot that signaled a missed call. Matt Burke … Matt Burke … He stopped Dad?

Due to an important client presentation, Jimmy had not been expecting his father to get off work until into the night and yet he had a missed a call from him at 11 o’clock in the morning. Slightly concerned, Jimmy scrolled to his father’s name in his contacts and pressed call.

“Hey Jim-bo,” Mr. Springer’s voice floated happily through the speaker, “How’d the race go?”

“It was fine,” Jimmy said hurriedly, “Dad-what’s going on? Why aren’t you at work?” To his surprise, his father laughed.

“Goodness, this is how work obsessed I’ve been, huh? You’re nervous when I’m not working all day.” He sighed deeply, not much differently than his son’s from a few moments earlier. “Everything is fine, Jimmy. Or at least, going forward it will be … I quit my job.”

“What?!”

“Sitting there miserable, stuck at work, knowing I was missing my son compete for a state championship … I just thought-why? And I realized I didn’t have an answer.”

Jimmy stood in surprise, the gentle buzz of white noise in his ear. “So … what will you do?”

“I’m not sure. It’s a little nerve-wracking. But all that matters is that next fall, when you’re running at Hershey for your last cross country meet, I will be there.”

Jimmy felt his eyes beginning to burn. A single tear shined down his cheek. But unlike so many droplets before it, this was not shed out of sadness. With a smile, he replied excitedly, “I’ll make sure it’s a good one.”