“You run at practice every day.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious she thought but didn’t say it. “Yeah, but I want to win the state championship.”
“You’re a freshman. Do freshmen win state championships?”
She sighed. “I will.”
Now breathing hard and totally surprising her, Jack said, “Can we go to a movie on Sunday?”
“Sorry, not during cross country,” she answered abruptly. She certainly was not going to be interested in any boy, particularly dating one during the season. But she was fifteen and normal in that she was curious about boys and dating and might give it a try between November and March. And it might as well be Jack.
“Maybe later then?” he asked hopefully.
“Maybe,” she said and added a smile. She’d never had a date and had no idea what it might be like. She wondered what it would be like to kiss a boy. Maybe kiss Jack? She giggled to herself but knew she was getting to be a pretty girl. Both grandmas told her that all the time. Jack was, well, Jack. But he was cuter than lots of the other guys despite the way he was constantly annoying her. Yeah, maybe a date when she was a state champion.
The “maybe,” along with the smile, caused Jack to smile, despite his labored breathing. He did like Linda–who wouldn’t? She was a fifteen-year-old cutie with her long blonde hair, slender frame, and a face he could stare at for hours. He knew she was fiercely into her running and wished he was a runner too. That wasn’t going to happen as he was a musician, piano and singing. But he was at every home meet to watch her, astounded at how fast she could run and how long she could run that fast. Now, if she’d only say yes instead of maybe. He could be patient and was willing to wait until that maybeturned intoyes.
They were at the school and waved to each other as they headed to their homerooms. Linda had read books and magazine articles by some of the best female runners in the world, and one of the main themes she encountered was that it took complete dedication and ignoring many of the things that could attack that dedication, such as parties, drugs, or alcohol, television, video games, and, last of all…men, or in her case, boys. She thought she might be able to like Jack–he was very likable, despite being annoying. But he was out-of-luck for the immediate future.
She’d also read in several books that well-adjusted people had a zero chance of being an Olympic champion. She didn’t understand what that meant exactly, but it bothered her a little since in the back of her mind lurked an unspoken dream of being an Olympic champion. She might have to ask her Mom and Dad about it, or maybe Coach Conrad.
The week went smoothly as she tapered slightly for the state meet. Her tapering would be an abnormally hard workout for the average high-school girl, but she sensed that her legs were feeling better and even rested as the big Saturday approached.
Coach Conrad sat her down for a lengthy discussion of the course–more hills than she was used to–and a couple of transitions across asphalt. He talked to her about how to deal with the other runners–there’d be more girls who would be running faster and might be close to her, so she needed to prepare for some jostling and bumping. She listened but already knew what her strategy would be–she’d simply run faster than the other girls and be far enough ahead that the course and the jostling wouldn’t be a factor.
Coach realized that he often talked to Linda as he would any promising runner, but she was usually far ahead of him and had already figured out what she would do. But he did tell her to be sure to get a good night’s sleep on Thursday night as that was the key time since sleeping Friday night might well be a lost or hopeless cause.
She was amazed at how her body felt, relaxed, pain-free, and ready. She so convinced herself that she was completely prepared for the meet that she did sleep well Thursday night. Not so much Friday as her mind continually ran and reran the race, and she got only a few hours of sleep.
She was awake just slightly before her alarm would have sounded, and she dressed carefully in her running uniform and sweats. She double-checked her duffle bag to ensure she’d have everything she needed, including spare shoes and laces. She put fresh spikes in her shoes and checked them three times. She didn’t need to have spikes falling out on a day like this.
Her mother was up and preparing her simple breakfast–a small bowl of oatmeal with milk and an equally small bowl of fruit with yogurt. She’d have an energy bar close to race time. As she brought the spoon to her mouth, she noticed it was shaking.
Her father had just come into the kitchen and noticed it too.
“Nervousness is normal and good,” he said, “but trembling uses up needed energy. Take some deep breaths and see if you can relax.” He rubbed the top of her blonde head and smiled.
Linda took several deep breaths, and it seemed to help. She finished her breakfast and smiled at both parents, a bit of a nervous smile.
“I’m going to make you guys proud of me today.”
Molly Baker extended her arms to her daughter and hugged her tightly. She was proud of Linda in every way possible. She didn’t need to win a state championship to make her proud. Never an athlete, she couldn’t quite understand this fixation with winning. It was supposed to be fun, and if you won, good. Linda was different, though. Certainly different.