The Running Diaries: Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Three

Ben Havleck, May 2016

He walked forward distractedly, lost in careful thought as was his default state of mind. It was a bad place to be unaware, within a throng of eager spectators. As the junior sauntered ahead, he bumped shoulders with a tall, black-haired boy, ripping him abruptly back to reality.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as the boy hurried off in the opposite direction. Now, more aware of his surroundings, he realized with a sudden rush of excitement that he recognized a pair of boys standing against the chain linked fence some twenty meters in front of him. Eagerly, he rushed forward, opening his mouth and preparing to call out for their attention.

“I hope Sean isn’t too bummed.” Ben could hear the taller of the two’s voice carry to his ears as he approached. “Outside the top two, doesn’t seem like the times were that fast.”

“He just got sucked out way too fast,” said the shorter, “If he had been in that small school race, he would have been way better off.” Ben shortened his stride, slowing and keeping out of view. He sensed the direction the conversation was beginning to turn and didn’t want to be present for its next stage. Cautiously, he snuck himself along the side of the fence, hiding from view behind a set of wider spectators.

“What did they finish in?”

“Like 9:17, I think. Sean might have been able to win that race.”

“Probably. But who would even care? It’s not like it’s a real state title. It’s small schools. Nobody any good runs in that division.”

“True … So should we go try and find Quinn?” The shorter boy looked back over his shoulder in the opposite direction of Ben.

“Yeah, I think she was heading toward the tent.”

Ben leaned forward to catch sight of his former Downingtown teammates disappearing back into the ocean of spectators. Gradually, the distance between them increased until Ben could no longer see them.

Jimmy Springer, May 2016

“Can I get an Orange Gatorade and a pretzel, please?”

“Four dollars.”

He reached into his wallet and put a five dollar bill on the counter. In exchange, an orange bottle and a salted pretzel were handed to him. “Thanks,” Without waiting for his change, he turned and left. “Have a good one.”

Jimmy walked underneath the stadium steps, enjoying the cool shade it provided. Then, he made a left, pushing open the door to the bathroom. Seeing it was empty, he walked up to the closest urinal. Almost as soon as he reached the stall, he heard the swinging of the door behind him and a pair of boys joined him in the room. In turn, each took a place next to him at the stalls.

“Dude, watching Jayson out there today was unbelievable,” the first of the two entrants said boldly, clearly unconcerned about being overheard. “It gets me pumped up to get out this summer and train hard for cross. We could do something special.”

“Yep,” his friend standing beside him kept his response short and curt. He sounded vaguely uncomfortable.

“Like just think about it. Jayson’s our front runner. We have four other experienced seniors. But then after that, it’s pretty wide open for the last varsity spots-you know?”

“Yep.”

“Honestly, I’ve never felt as invested as I do right now. I’ve got a good feeling about-”

“Ian!” The less chatty of the two boys burst out, “Could you chill? I can’t pee while you’re talking.”

“Oh-yeah, for sure.” The boy named Ian walked back away from the urinal, his business apparently finished. Jimmy followed shortly thereafter, his bladder equally depleted. “You know, Tom,” The boy continued, he and Jimmy now washing their hands side by side, “I never thought of you as a shy pee-er. Like Todd? He’s got shy pee-er written all over him. You on the other hand? Thought for sure you’d have a stronger stream presence.”

“Seriously?”

“Sorry, I’m done. I promise.” He moved to the paper towel dispenser, Springer following in his wake. He pulled down on the lever, unleashing a long string of rough, brown paper, then tore it in two and handed some to the man behind him. “Here you go, dude.” Ian said, looking up into Jimmy’s face for the first time. He looked back at Tom before immediately looking back at the newly crowned state champion.

“Thanks,” Jimmy said, taking the towel and drying his hands. He stared awkwardly at Ian whose mouth was hanging slightly agape.

“Holy crap,” he said, slowly coming to his senses. “You’re Jimmy Springer!” Jimmy fought the urge to reply with “I know”. “Can I maybe, like, get a picture with you or something?” Ian asked, taking out his phone excitedly.

“In the bathroom?” Springer asked, looking around uncomfortably.

“Maybe just like-like a selfie or something?” He tried holding his arm out at different angles, inching himself closer to the Union Valley junior’s personal space. “Tom, can you take this picture for me real quick?”

“Kinda in the middle of something over here, Ian.”

“Here,” Jimmy said offering his help. He took the phone from his fan and stretched out his long arms to full extension. Hoping to remove himself from this bizarre situation as quickly as possible, he snapped a picture and passed back the device.

“Awesome. Thank you, man,” Ian replied in awe, now looking down at the picture.

“Yeah, no problem,” Despite himself, Jimmy smiled slightly at the look on his fan’s face. “And, hey, good luck training this summer. Maybe I’ll see you guys up at states.”  Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared out of the bathroom back into the consistent throng of traffic. As the door swung shut, he heard a final snippet of conversation behind him.

“Tom, did you hear that?!”

“DAMN IT, IAN! STOP TALKING!”  

Ben Havleck, cont.

Ben turned his attention back to the track, trying to brush off the conversation he had just overheard. They were lining up the competitors for the large schools 4x800 meter relay. He looked at the lead off runners, examining each of their faces carefully. What makes these kids so different from me? He thought bitterly. I would have been right with the medalists in large schools. The gun sounded as the middle distance runners sprinted off the line. And I wouldn’t have had to deal with such a slow early pace either.

“Coatesville out well,” The announcer projected over the speaker, “With Baldwin, North Penn and Lower Dauphin chasing. Senior Sean Dawson running lead leg for the Raiders.”

Ben could feel his legs aching as he stood along the fence. The remnants of his previous struggle begged him to get off his feet. He took one last, long glance at the track before turning his back on the relay and looking up into the stands. They looked crowded. Mentally, he prepared himself to trudge through the masses, hoping to find a place among the established relationships that had already assembled. Just like breakfast that morning. Just like his life in general.

“It’s now Cumberland Valley powering ahead! Chris Fuller makes the pass as we head into the exchange. Coatesville will be next, followed by Baldwin and then West Chester North!”   

Despite his fatigued lower body, Ben couldn’t resist putting off his quest for seating to watch the teams battling along the home stretch. He turned back around and, as he did, spotted a familiar face.

“Ben?” A taller girl with blonde hair was waving to him. “Ben!”

“Katie?” He replied in shock, walking a little ways up the straightaway to stand beside her. “How are you doing?” To his surprise, when he drew even, Katie reached out and hugged him. He returned the gesture nervously.

Ben had met Katie a few months ago at the Muhlenberg Invitational, an indoor track meet he attended with the hopes of qualifying for the state championship. She had been very friendly, but their interaction had been relatively short and uneventful. So a hug seemed like a rather forward greeting.

“I’m doing well,” Katie said, smiling. “I saw your race earlier. You did so awesome!”

“Thanks,” Ben tried to sound appreciative, but couldn’t completely hide his disappointment. “And Terrence did really well, too. He had a great kick.” At the conclusion of his and Katie’s first meeting, he had learned his budding rival, Terrence Griffen of Wyomissing, was Katie’s boyfriend. He had assumed this was still the case, but when he mentioned Griffen’s name, he was surprised to see Katie’s previously cheery expression sour.

“Yeah,” she replied tartly, “Too bad. I was really rooting for you to beat him.”

“Er-Thanks” Although curious to further investigate the odd change of tone, Ben opted instead to change the subject. “I saw you competed yesterday, right? In the high jump? Looked like you did pretty well.”

“You saw that?” She perked back up, “I actually jumped a PR by a couple inches and really got luck with my misses. I ended up 5^th when the tiebreakers were factored in.”

“That’s great! Congratulations!”

“Thanks!” They looked back at the track as the runners came storming down the straightaway.

“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!”

“I didn’t know you were here yesterday,” she continued after the runners had passed, “I would have looked for you to say hi.”

“It’s OK, I wasn’t here that long,” Ben said dismissively. “I just went out to jog for a bit, but otherwise tried to stay out of the heat.” Why would she go out of her way to see me? he thought, We barely even know each other.

“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!” The announcer’s voice incited the crowd as the relay in front of them approached it’s concluding lap. A runner in a light blue jersey held a slight lead over another in black.

“So who do you think’s gonna win?” Katie asked Ben, watching the two runners fight alongside each other.

“Coatesville,” Ben said, slightly more aggressively than intended. “No doubt.”

“Why do you say that?” The runner in blue continued to hold an advantage with just half a lap to go in the race. “That guy in first looks pretty comfortable.”

“They’ve got this coach-Alberto Solares. He’s coached Olympians, so imagine the upgrade he is over your typical high school coach.” As if in response to Ben’s comments, Coatesville’s anchor leg sprang to life off the final turn and charged furiously ahead. Pumping his arms, he powered away from his North Penn counterpart and crossed the line first, raising his fist victoriously as he finished.

“Wow,” Katie said, her eyes up the track watching the winning teammates regroup and celebrate, “You called that perfectly. How’d you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Ben shrugged sheepishly, “I’m pretty passionate about this stuff I guess.” The gold medal relay was now lining up for a picture. Holding the camera, a man with a navy blue Ares sweater directed them into position. “Especially the coaching piece.”

“Yeah, I’d be lost without my coach. She’s made me a lot better.” Ben nodded politely, but remained silent. Katie noticed and correctly interpreted his silence as unhappiness. “Do you not like your coach?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly. I just wish he had a bit more experience.”

“Ah, I gotcha. Is he, like, a younger guy? Because sometimes the coaches just out of college are a little more inventive. Not quite so set in their thinking.”

“What if they’re only 17 years old?”

“17?!” Katie exclaimed. She stared at Ben who raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Wait-are you saying … you’re your coach?”

“Yep,” he nodded again, sporting a wry smile. “Bloomsburg High doesn’t technically have a track or cross country team. I lobbied to get club status so I can compete in the PAL and stuff, but we’ve got no school funding.”

“And that means no money to pay a real coach.”

“Ouch,” Ben replied in a voice of mock woundedness.

“Oh c’mon!” Katie said defensively, “You know what I mean!”

“I know, I know,” he laughed, “I’m just messing with you.”

As the conversation slid into silence, they turned back to the track, hoping for something to revive the dialogue. The last team had already come straggling home and the runners were disseminating in their respective quartets, slinking away from the finish and back to the check-in tent. With his colloquial crutch gone, Ben turned back to face Katie, internally debating the next set of words he could piece together into a phrase.

But before he could stumble through a sentence, Katie took the reins. “Did you want to grab some food from the snack bar? I was on my way to get a pretzel when I ran into you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ben replied, “I could use a Gatorade or something.” And he followed her away from the edge of the fence back toward the stadium’s far corner, failing to realize this was the opposite direction that Katie had been headed when they ran into one another.

Jimmy Springer, cont.

Jimmy wandered out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants. So what now? He thought. The 4x800 had to be starting soon, one of his favorite events in track. Removing his back pack from his shoulders, he reached inside and rummaged around for his phone to check the time. He shifted through miscellaneous objects, tossing them aside until he landed on his target.

“Yo Springer!”

Jimmy stopped, his hand grasped around his phone, and looked up to determine the source of the voice. A stocky boy with dark hair was walking toward him. He wore a red shirt with cut off sleeves and a pair of black shorts. His physique was muscular and his face was handsome.

“Hey what’s up Devon,” Jimmy said releasing his phone and extending his hand for a slap and a shake before precariously replacing his pack on his left shoulder. “How’d the semi-finals go?”

“Not good, dude,” Devon replied with a sheepish smile. “I’m really feeling the effects of last night.” He ran his hand through the top of his hair. While the top was long enough to properly comb through, the sides were buzzed short. “How’d you do?”

“I did alright,” Jimmy brushed off the question, “What time did you go back to your room last night? I didn’t even see you leave.”

“You don’t remember?” Devon asked in amazement, “Bro-I walked back with you.” He stared at Jimmy, waiting for some type of acknowledgement.  

“Ahh, that’s right … I remember now,” he lied. Devon looked back at him skeptically.

“Man, I had no clue you were so messed up.”

“I was fine. I just needed a little something to take the edge off, you know?”

“Whatever you say,” Devon shook his head in disbelief, “You heading back in a couple hours? I heard they are starting up again at 3.”

“Eh, probably not. Just gonna watch the races. How ‘bout you?”

“Nah, I think my coach is trying to get us out of here after Mary Kate runs the hurdle finals.” He paused, pulling out his phone and typing out a text. “Besides, they wouldn’t let me in by myself”

“What do you mean? Those guys seemed pretty chill.”

“That wasn’t just some party, Springer.” He looked up from his phone to give Jimmy a proper stare. “That was a goddam recruiting pitch. They’re trying to get you to come to Shippensburg.”

“Well, I doubt that was all for me. You’d be a good recruit for them too.” As he spoke, he shifted his weight and his still open back pack spilled some of its contents onto the ground between them.

“Yeah, but I’m not an effing state champion,” Devon said, reaching down for the discarded golden award. “Just alright, huh?” With a twinge of annoyance, he handed the medal to Jimmy, who blushed slightly but otherwise remained silent. He thought further elaborating on his disappointment with his performance would do more harm than good.

“See you around, Springer.” Devon finished before disappearing and leaving behind the mess of outstanding fallen items. In the fresh silence, Jimmy heard the stadium announcer’s voice reverberate around him.

“Coatesville out well,” The voice projected over the speaker, “With Baldwin, North Penn and Lower Dauphin chasing. Senior Sean Dawson running lead leg for the Raiders.”

Ben Havleck, cont.

After stopping at the snack bar to pick up some refreshments, Katie and Ben set off on a walk around the perimeter of the track. Then they circumvented the stadium itself. And before long, they were exploring the edges of Shippensburg’s campus.

Topics bounced freely through their conversation, touching on the obvious, like school and track, and the obscure, like whether the Red Hot Chili Peppers were better than actual chili peppers or if teleportation would be invented during their lifetimes.

“Would you actually use a teleporter if it was invented?” Ben asked as they passed by the same dining hall he had visited that morning, “Or would you be too worried about splinching?”

“What the hell is ‘splinching’?”

“You know-like when wizards apparate-”

“Hold on-wizards? How’d we get on wizards?”

“Because they’re the ones who-wait … have you not read Harry Potter?”

“No.” Ben stopped and stared at her, his mouth hanging open. “But I saw the movies. Does that count?”

“No, no, definitely not.” Ben waited, but was disappointed to see she did not recognize the reference. “I’m not sure we can be friends anymore.”

She laughed. “That much of a deal breaker, huh?”

He sighed dramatically. “I’ll let it slide this time. But it’s going to hurt your creditability as we continue this teleportation conversation.”

“Fair enough,” she smiled and paused to think of her response. After a moment, “I think I’d do it. It would just open up so many more opportunities. I could travel more … I could go to college anywhere I wanted and still be able to visit home.”

“Where would you pick?

“For college?”

“Yeah-Like if you were accepted everywhere and distance wasn’t an issue. Where would you go?”

“Um … I don’t know …” She fidgeted with her hands, “I never really thought about it.”

“Never?” Ben responded, sounding surprised.

“Haha no!” She said mildly taken aback. “Sounds like you have though …”

“Yeah,” He found himself suddenly feeling sheepish. “For me, it’s Georgetown,” he spoke more softly than originally intended, “I’ve wanted to go there for as long as I can remember.”

When he fell completely silent, Katie piped up, trying to prod him into continuing. “So are you applying there early decision? Increase your chances of going?”

“No,” Ben said, his voice shifting to a mildly darker inflection, “I’m not going there.”

“What do you mean? You just said it’s your dream school. If you’re worried about grades, sometimes the standards they post-”

“I’m not worried about that,” he said dismissively. Then, realizing how cocky he sounded, he lamely added, “I mean-I think I at least have a shot to get in based on my application.”

“OK, so what’s the problem then?”

Now it was Ben’s turn to fidget. “If I tell you, do you promise not to laugh?”

“Of course,” She nodded.

He paused and looked up into her eyes. Then, he plunged ahead. “I can’t run there.”

“Can’t run there? How do you know?”

“Well, I went to visit a couple weeks ago and-you may not believe this-but I thought back to our conversation that we had back at Muhlenberg. About talking to coaches?” She shook her head to affirm, but otherwise did not interrupt. “Right, so, I went to the coach’s office and talked to him.” He gulped, unexpectedly emotional, “And it was a failure. He had no interest. Barely gave me the time of day.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. That sucks.”

“It’s alright,” he lied. They circled around the dorms where the high schoolers were staying during the state championship weekend and started their journey back to the track stadium.

“I wouldn’t give up on that dream, though.” Katie said firmly when they had finished their about face. “You never know what’s going to happen.”

“Eh, I guess so. Not sure I could ever bring myself to run for that coach, though.”

“Maybe he’ll get fired,” Katie shrugged, “If he couldn’t spot a diamond in the rough like you, he’s probably not a very good coach.” She smiled and Ben half-heartedly returned the gesture. “I mean, you just finished 3^rd in the state!”

“For small schools, though. Did you see those large school guys? They were on a whole other level. If I really want to be considered one of the best, those are the kids I have to beat.”

“So why don’t you?”

“What do you mean?” He looked at her, his expression shrouded in befuddlement. He explained again, feeling repetitive. “We are in different classifications. Bloomsburg’s not just a ‘small school’ it’s microscopic. I mean I don’t even have a real coach.”

“Or teammates.”

“Rub it in.” He said sourly.

“No, Ben-you don’t have teammates. So you can pick your own classification without anybody getting hurt.” His unblinking gaze indicated to her that he had yet to catch on. “The classifications weren’t put in so the large school kids could move up,” She pressed, “They were put in to let the small school kids move down. Give them a fair chance to compete.” They were almost back at the stadium now, approaching one final crossing before the large parking lot. “But it’s just you. Only you would have to deal with the disadvantage. If you want to race the large school kids-race the kids from the best facilities and training programs-no one is going to stop you.” She paused briefly to check for traffic at the street corner. “Especially not your small school competition.”

Ben let the realization wash over him as they crossed the road. From their heightened proximity, the sounds of the stadium were drifting once more to his ears. The familiar roar of the crowd echoed around his mind, taking him back to the amazing race he had witnessed that morning. Only now it was a shorter, dark haired boy sprinting head to head against the great Jimmy Springer.

“What time is it?” Katie asked, slowing her pace slightly as they neared the stadium’s surrounding fence.

“Uh … a little after one o’clock,” Ben said looking down at his wrist, “Wow, that was quite the walk! I didn’t realize we were out that long.”

“Yeah, time flies.” She came to a complete stop now, standing and staring at him. Seemingly waiting for something. They stood in increasingly awkward silence. Is she waiting for me to do something?

“So … Kaite,”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think-um-” He felt a bead of cold sweat drip down under his armpit. She looked at him hopefully. “I-uh-have a haircut appointment tomorrow. What kinda haircut do you think I should get?”

She looked back at him in confusion, completely caught off guard by the seemingly random question. What kind of haircut should I get? He thought, guessing that her surprise was likely mirrored in his own expression. Despite the odd remark, Katie recovered well. She curled her agape mouth into a smile and stepped closer to Ben.

“Your hair is so long and messy,” she said, running one of her hands through his hair. “I think it would look a lot better if you just buzzed it all off.” She let a particularly long strand flop back onto his head. It dawned on Ben how close their faces now were. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“And your small school 800 meter champion,” the announcer’s voice echoed around them, “Kurt Williams from Northeast Bradford.

“What?” Ben pulled his head back and whipped it around to face the track. Katie stumbled slightly beside him. “Kurt Williams?” He remarked in amazement. Ben looked back at Katie, surprise etched across his face, but she did not echo his enthusiasm. “That’s a huge upset.” He said trying to impart upon her the importance of the moment.

“Yeah … not exactly what I expecting either …” she muttered with a subtle hint of frustration.

“Crazy, right?” Ben replied excitedly, oblivious to her alternative meaning, “Do you think they have the results posted already?” As he stared into her stone-faced expression, the smile at the tips of his lips slowly began to droop. “What?”

“Good luck with those results, Ben.” She said, shaking her head and walking away. “I hope they’re satisfying.”