Disappointed but squarely facing reality, Jack understood that his time with Linda would be restricted and reduced. But he was already finding track season pleasantly different than cross-country season had been. In the autumn, he knew he had been an annoyance–she’d made that clear–but now, her obvious enjoyment just spending time with him told Jack things had changed. And she seemed to work hard to share bits of what was happening in her life with him. He was finding Linda more fascinating each day, and he was more than willing to be patient in order to spend time with her–and find what the future might hold for them.
Of course, Linda was wrapped up in the competition, savoring every race and the victory that went with each. She had noticed at the invitational meets that, as she warmed up, a lot of the other girls watched her, even to the point of staring. She talked to Coach Conrad about it, and his response was, “You’re a celebrity now. Of course, they’re gawking at you.” She didn’t feel like a celebrity, and she’d just as soon they didn’t look at her. She just wanted to run…and win.
The winning was coming easily, and she’d won all her 1600- and 3200-meter races by wide margins and was running state meet times early in the season. She was also running anchor on the 4 x 800-meter relay, which was not turning state meet times, so she wouldn’t have to worry about that. She had never felt so energized and invigorated, not just in her running but in her school work and the time with her parents. Even Jack was benefitting as she seemed to be working hard to find time to spend with him.
When May and state meet time rolled around, as predicted and expected, Linda rolled to easy victories in both races, missing the state record in both by a total of 1.83 seconds. Still, she was elated, and after getting her final medal, raced into the stands to share with her parents…and, of course, Jack. Big hugs from the parents and an awkward squeeze from Jack. Despite all the spectators sitting around them watching, she wasn’t satisfied with that and wanted more, smiling and giving him a warm and very tight hug. If she was a celebrity, she could do what she wanted.
The state titles were a catalyst to make Linda work even harder in preparation for the new year. She tried to keep Coach Conrad’s words in mind as she planned each day’s activities. Remember, Linda, it’s possible to work too hard and end up with an injury and not be able to run at all. You’re good enough that you don’t need to overwork yourself.
***
Linda’s sophomore and junior years were near clones of her freshman year. She worked hard with her running and won state championships in cross country both years as well as the 1600 and 3200-meter titles both years. The only difference was in her sophomore when one of the other runners decided to work hard and greatly improved her 800-meter times and two girls, both excellent runners, moved into the Crawford district. With Linda anchoring the 4×800-meter relay team, she was able to add a state title in that event as well.
As Frank Turner had predicted, she gave Newt seven state titles, and with his sure-shot high jumper only managing a second place, that was more than he had achieved during all the previous years of coaching.
Those periods when she didn’t feel like running, doubted her talent and ability, missed assignments, and took lots of secret naps, were still there and seemed to be more intense than in the past. Fortunately, those times seemed to coincide with summer of the time between seasons thus not affecting her racing.
The summer before her senior year was different than the ones before, her doldrums coming earlier than usual, and she struggled to maintain her running schedule. Also, she went to Jack’s house more often where she could sneak naps and just sit around, staring and pondering what was wrong with her. Jack was concerned as this seemed to happen at least every year, and he encouraged her to talk with her parents and see a doctor–it didn’t seem natural at all. He was already eighteen, but only a month older than her, yet he seemed so mature sometimes.
When her eighteenth birthday came, just two months after Jack’s, he was relieved that she seemed better, although he couldn’t be certain that she wasn’t playacting for his benefit as well. He hoped that she trusted him enough that she wouldn’t do that.
Her parents gave her a huge “Coming of Age” party, with about a hundred guests. Linda loved it and was looking forward to the rest of her life.
Cross-country season came, and she breezed through her meets, winning easily in every race. At the state meet, she led all the way and had a substantial lead as she approached the finish line when near-disaster struck. At ten meters from the finish line and at a full sprint, her right foot found a small unseen hole in the turf, and she crashed to the ground in agony. She struggled to stand and couldn’t. Glancing back at the approaching group of runners, she began to crawl frantically toward the finish line, making it across about a meter ahead of second-place.
Two officials were helping her stand, awkwardly avoiding the horde of finishing runners. When she was clear of the finish chute, they were about to sit her down in order to examine her ankle when her parents and Jack were at her side. Sobbing, she threw her arms around Jack’s neck, clinging to him, her head buried between his cheek and shoulder.
“Did I win?” he heard through her sobbing as she lifted her head and waited for his answer.
“Of course you did,” he answered, smiling at her.
The sobbing continued, and Jack could see her dad on his knees, looking at her ankle. Two men with first aid kits arrived to take a look, but Linda wasn’t about to release her hold on Jack.
“Let’s sit down so they can take a look at your ankle,” he whispered, and she reluctantly released her hold on his neck. He sat down, and her father and one of the first aid guys gently lowered her beside him. She was squeezing his hands so hard it nearly hurt.
The other man, in uniform, knelt in front of Linda, smiling at her.
Hi, I’m Bart Wilson, an EMT, and congratulations on winning that race. It was pretty amazing.”
A sob-choked “Thank you” from Linda.
“May I check your ankle?”
A nod.
He pushed, twisted gently, asked if that hurt or this hurt, smiling all the time.
“Well,” he finally said. “You’ve sprained your ankle for sure, but I don’t think anything is broken. You need to get an X-ray to be sure, but I feel good about that. We can take you in the ambulance if you’d like, or your parents here can take you as well. Either way is fine.”
Linda looked up at her father, and the look said all that was needed.
“We’ll take her,” Dad said.
“You can bring your car to the gate over there, and we’ll open it so you can drive right up here,” Bart said. Then he leaned in toward Linda and spoke softly. “If you can, you might want to wave and smile to the gallery you seem to have collected.”
For the first time, Linda and the others noticed the large crowd that had gathered to watch. Jack helped her stand, and she wiped her eyes. The smile was forced, but the words were vintage Linda.