Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Jimmy Springer, October 2013

“Spikes … uniform … um … what am I forgetting?” He pulled open the top drawer of his bedside table and frantically flipped through a stack of underwear and socks.

“Jimmy, your friend’s outside!”

With a final spin around his bedroom, he rushed through the door and down the stairs to his mother.

“Mom, what I am forgetting?” he asked, slightly panicked, as he transferred a rain jacket from his closet into his backpack. She smiled and patted his arm gently.

“Do you have your spikes and your uniform?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then you’re fine,” she cut in reassuringly. “Take it from me, the worst thing you can do is overthink things.” She ended with another smile and encouraging pat. Jimmy looked into her eyes and managed to weakly return her beam. He swung his pack over his shoulders, gave his mother a hug and turned to make his way outside.

“You guys are coming later right?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t miss your first invitational!” She paused and checked her watch. “Of course I might have to leave without your father,” her tone had become darker, “he’s always busy working. You would think maybe for this-”

“I get it Mom,” Jimmy replied in solemn anger. “I’ll see you at 11.”

“I’m not feeling too great about this Eagles season man, that Denver game was brutal.”

Jimmy sat in the front passenger seat alongside teammate Matt Burke as he drove through the neighborhoods towards the high school. The freshman fiddled with his bag nervously while the senior spoke.

“Maybe we need to just put in Foles and see what happens, you know?” Matt looked across at Springer who gave a non-committal shrug.

“Yeah … I’d train with some baby horses I guess …”

“Baby horses? What the-no not foals! I’m talking about Nick Foles.” Matt pulled his car into the parking lot for the school library, across the street from where the cross country team would catch their bus. “What’s up with you, man? Everything ok?”

“Yeah everything’s cool.” Jimmy gathered up his backpack and moved to open his door, but Matt locked it. Jimmy flashed him an angry look that was returned with a caring smile.

“C’mon man, just talk to me.” He stared at him with his finger hovering over the lock button, “Then I’ll let you out.”

Jimmy gave a frustrated sigh. “Look man, just open the door.” He went to unlock it again, but Matt clicked it shut. “How old are you like twelve?!” He whined. Waiting for an answer, he stared at his teammate, but got no response. “What are you waiting for me to say? There’s nothing …” he trailed off exasperated. Again he went for the door, but again was denied. “Fine!” he yelled, “You want to know what’s wrong?! I’m scared, alright? I’m scared I’m gonna suck or … embarrass myself. Everybody’s counting on me and … and I don’t want to let everybody down …” he trailed off at the end, his screaming fading into a soft whisper.  “Can I get out of the effing car now?”

Matt considered him briefly. “Jimmy, do you think you can run faster being chased by a frog or being chased by a black bear?”

“Don’t patronize me right now, I am not-”

“Right, the bear,” he pressed on unperturbed, “And you know why? Because you’d be scared. Fear doesn’t have to be a bad thing; you just have to know how to embrace it.” He unlocked the doors and opened his own, while Jimmy gratefully followed his lead. Matt gathered his drawstring bag and, together, they carefully crossed the street.

“You steal that one from Coach?” Jimmy asked, slightly bemused. He was now beginning to calm down after his initial outburst.

“Hey, come on now. I’m a clever enough guy to come up with something like that on my own, aren’t I?” Matt smiled, eyebrows raised. The pair walked together up the sidewalk, carrying their racing gear. The rest of the team had already assembled.

“What took you so long, Burke? You guys doing your nails and gossiping?”

“Yeah we tried out that salon you usually go to. It was pretty good,” Matt responded with a grin. He and Jimmy moved to the back of the crowd, which was now arranging themselves into a line for the bus. Coach Ames stood at the front, checking off each runner’s names as they stepped on board the vehicle.  

“… Fisher … Armstrong … Burke … and Springer …” he made a mark on clipboard after each name. “That’s all seven, then. Driver, we are good to go.”

Matt took a seat in the back of the bus with a few other runners, while Jimmy took a closer seat behind Glenn Fisher.

“Everything going alright, Jimmy?” Glenn asked as he sat down.

“Yeah, no complaints,” he responded, sticking his backpack into the corner of his seat and leaning up against it.

“Excellent news … Great day for a race!”

Jimmy thought very highly of Glenn. Although he was a bit quirky and awkward at times, he had always encouraged Jimmy to persevere through the harassment he had sometimes faced and been a supportive friend. Glenn was also the fastest runner on the team, having finished 23^rd at the previous year’s state championships. He had a strong work ethic and disciplined approach to the sport that Jimmy particularly admired.

“Hey so what make this course so great, Glenn?” Jimmy asked. After a moments silence, he peered over the seat in front of him, looking for an answer. There was a faint sound of music.

“Did you say something?” Glenn pulled out his left ear bud. “Sorry, I kinda have a pre-race music routine …”

“Oh yeah, I was just-nevermind,” Jimmy said shrinking back into his seat. Music. That’s what I was forgetting. He looked around the bus and noticed all his teammates were wired in to a song, some loud, others softer and more relaxing. Feeling suddenly lonely, he withdrew back into his thoughts. As much as he tried to shake it, fear of failure dominated his emotions. What am I even doing … I don’t belong here …

“What’s up, superstar?”

Jimmy was shaken from his revere by the arrival of one of his teammates in the seat next to him.

“Hey Matt … um … what are you-”

“You looked pretty bored over here by yourself. Thought you could use a little company.” Jimmy looked at him skeptically. “I promise I won’t lock you in the bus.”

Jimmy smiled despite himself. “You don’t need to, like, listen to music or whatever? Glenn said he has a ‘pre-race music routine’.”

Burke laughed, “Did he? Classic Fish. You know it’s possible to take running too seriously.” He pulled a granola bar from his pocket. “Personally, I try to have as little in my ‘routine’ as possible. That way I don’t freak out if everything doesn’t go according to plan.” He added air quotations to the end of the sentence, before unwrapping his snack. “So is Ames going to actually let you race today?”

“Dunno.” After being held out of the first two invitationals, Jimmy had raced a pair of dual meets for Union Valley, but both times, he had been instructed to run within a pack. “I hope so.”

“I’d bet he does,” Matt said confidently. He bit off a piece of his granola bar. “Juzt becayful,” he added while finishing chewing. “If you go out too fast on this course, you’ll really regret it.”

“So what exactly is this course like? Glenn says it’s awesome-”

“Hershey? No way dude. This course sucks. It’s brutally hilly, right at the worst part of the race in the second mile. You have to save something for that stretch. But if you don’t get out fast, it narrows super quick and you’ll be wasting energy trying to pass chumps like Armstrong all race.” He pointed over his shoulder at one of his teammates, fast asleep in his bus seat. “I think it takes a couple tries to get it right.” Seeing the intimidated look on Jimmy’s face, he added, “But hey, maybe you’ll be a natural!”

As a pack of seven, the Union Valley Cross Country team jogged along the grass, headed for a bright orange tent. Glenn Fisher and Jimmy Springer were running side by side at the front with a pack of five no more than two steps behind.

“… and coming into the final hill, I just thought ‘I need three more guys to get on the medal stand’ and that’s when I found that extra gear. I just think I had a mental edge,” Glenn was saying to his younger teammate who was listening intently. Meanwhile, a shorter brown haired boy behind them rolled his eyes. The group came to a stop just in front of their coach, who was flipping through notes on a clipboard. His hair stood up at a variety of angles and his glasses were askew, but he was either unaware or unconcerned.

“Take them through drills please, Glenn,” he said without looking up from his papers.

“Let’s line up guys!” They moved a bit to the right of the tent, giving themselves some room to stretch out. Glenn positioned himself in the middle of the group, with Jimmy to his right. Together they cycled through a set of plyometric drills, with Glenn periodically pausing to comment on someone’s technique. Occasionally, Coach Ames would call one of his runners away from the group to privately discuss some last minute tactics. He saved his youngest runner for last.

“Springer!” he called as the boys broke formation to put their spikes on. Jimmy wandered nervously over to his Coach, who was standing just out of earshot from the tent. “How you feeling today, Springer? Nervous?”

“A little bit,” he said honestly. Coach Ames smiled.

“A little pre-race butterflies never hurt anybody.” He looked down briefly at his clipboard. “I’ve got you and the pack scheduled to try and hit the mile in five minutes. It’s a bit quick, but I’d like us to get out over our heads today. It should better prepare us for states.”

Jimmy nodded in understanding.

 “I told Burke, Armstrong and Dooney the same thing so you should be able to work together.” He paused to look up from his notes and meet Jimmy’s eyes. “But I’m unleashing you today, Springer. Don’t let anybody hold you back the second half of the race.” Then, switching from his serious tone, “I’ve got some money riding on you.”

Jimmy smiled as Ames ushered him back to his teammates.

“Spikes and uniforms gentlemen-we’ve got 10 minutes until the start.”

Dropping to the ground, Jimmy quickly switched over his shoes. Most of his teammates were already finished. Matt pulled his jersey from his drawstring bag and placed it around his neck so it hung like a cape down his back.

“You look ridiculous, Burke,” the shorter, brown-haired boy said, smiling as he admired Matt’s attire. “Or should I say Superman?”

“Batman,” Matt replied in a deep voice, striking a dramatic pose. “Batman doesn’t have super powers, but he’s still a hero. It’s a metaphor for how I race.” The Union Valley boys laughed.

With Jimmy now at the tail end of the group, Union Valley slowly trickled towards the start line, a few runners taking a stride in that direction. Many of the other teams were already in their starting boxes. Race officials were checking teams in.

“Union Valley, how many runners?” a shorter mustached man asked as the team filed into box number eleven.

“Seven runners, sir,” Glenn answered. The official double-checked the number with a quick head count and then moved on to box ten. Once he had passed, Glenn took a final, loping stride, which Jimmy mirrored. All around him, runners were striding through the grass, some sprinting at full speed, others in a controlled glide. Fans and parents were sprinkled along the sides of the start line, outlining the opening straightaway. Scanning the group, Jimmy located his mother and father holding hands about 100 meters down the straightaway. When they made eye contact, his mother waved vigorously while his father flashed him a thumbs up. Their son beamed back at them.

A whistle sounded from the official, signaling the runners to return to their starting positions. The scatter of Union Valley athletes reassembled within box eleven. Preparing to leave, Coach Ames gave each of his athletes a high five and wished them luck. “I’ll see you boys at the mile … Embrace the fear, gentlemen. Remember, it’s easier to run fast when you’re being chased by a grizzly bear!”  And he dashed away from the pack, sprinting off to the first checkpoint of the race.

Matt and Jimmy made eye contact from within the pack and shared a grin.

“I thought you said you didn’t steal that from Coach?”

“I didn’t,” Matt replied coyly, “I said black bear.” He gave Jimmy a wink, before both turned their attention to the starter in the middle of the field.

“Runners …. Take your mark!”

Union Valley had squeezed three runners at the top of their box. Fisher was positioned at the front right, with Burke in the center and Dooney on the left. Springer was tucked in behind Fisher and Burke with Armstrong to his left. The combination of Fisher and Burke made for an intimidating front line; both runners stood well over six feet tall. Although Jimmy had just crested six foot himself, he was easily obscured by his longer teammates. Armstrong and Dooney were both quite a bit shorter, but also more muscular and compact. Each leaned forward, one leg in front of the other.

Bang!

At the sound of the gun, the line of runners erupted into a sprint, flowing together on top of one another. Fisher was off the line quickly and had already positioned himself near the lead. Dooney made himself as wide as possible to protect his space as Armstrong followed just behind. Burke and Springer were a bit more jostled, neither able to fully open their long stride amidst the scrum. Moving into the first turn, Burke consciously swung out to the far left, giving himself room to extend. Jimmy did not follow, sitting almost dead center of the thundering herd.

The stampede of harriers continued, rolling through the opening stretch at a quick clip. Union Valley was struggling to form its usual pack among the crowd. Jimmy was running alongside a pair of runners in green and white jerseys and, while going around a slight turn, he could see there were two more from the same team just behind. Ahead of him, he could see the tall figure of Fisher bobbing at the front of the field. Glenn was only five or ten seconds in front, but there seemed like an endless mass of bodies between them.

Slowly but surely, Jimmy navigated the crowd so that he, Dooney and Armstrong were packed together and able to react to each other’s moves. Leading them by a few steps, still running on the outside edge of the course, was Matt Burke, towering over his closest competitors in much the same way that Fisher did. From his position, he had a much easier running lane, but he was forced to take a few turns quite wide. If he felt this was an ineffective strategy, he showed no signs of it. Matt made no attempt to change course as the field approached the first mile mark and the race’s first set of hills.

It was a crowded pack heading into these hills and many of the runners who had set out at a fast early pace were slowing drastically within the wave of athletes. Conversely, Jimmy still felt strong, pumping along through the incline. But there were few running lanes within the mass of struggling bodies. Meanwhile, Matt floated away on the outside, gliding past the slowing runners and keeping his eyes up toward the next group. Jimmy looked over his shoulder to see Dooney and Armstrong, each grimacing a bit but keeping strong. Up ahead, he noticed a clock cycling through dark red numbers. 

5:00 … 5:01 … 5:02 …

Matt was well clear of his three teammates as the pack of runners crested the hill and turned their attention to an upcoming descent. There were still a slew of bodies ahead of both men, but the as the gap between Jimmy and Matt grew, the former feared the implications for Union Valley’s team scoring. Jimmy could see a few of those same green and white jerseys peppering his path ahead. Another team, wearing red and blue, also looked like they had four or five men ahead of him.

The pack turned hard into the downhill and, within the bunch, runners were clipping and pushing to get a free shot through the group. Springer longed for an escape from the madness. He couldn’t find any sort of rhythm within the pack. Glancing to his outside, he stepped around a pair of runners and extended just ahead of them. Once on flat ground, he continued with three hard steps and moved ahead of another pack, bringing him to the shoulder of one of the runner’s from the team wearing blue.

Checking behind him, he noticed that Dooney and Armstrong had not matched his surge. Unsure of himself, Jimmy pulled back slightly, hoping his teammates would catch up to him. The blue runner inched further in front. Come on, we’ve got to go.

Meanwhile, Burke was steadily moving through the field, looking strong and confident. Although he had run some extra distance, it had been smooth and unperturbed. Based on his current position, it had been a worthwhile strategy. As Matt continued to move through the field, he kept his eyes ahead, either unaware or unconcerned that he had left his teammates in his wake.

Frustrated, Jimmy drifted a bit towards the outside, taking his next turn wide. He checked behind him once more, updating himself on the progress of the team’s 4^th and 5^th runners. Springer had been expecting that this group of four would run together the whole race, working as a pack just as they had been taught in practice. Matt’s rogue behavior had left his freshman teammate angry and confused.

As they approached the next set of hills, a viscous middle section of the course, Jimmy was brought back to reality when he spotted his coach along the side of the course, waving furiously.

“Alright Matt, keeping picking guys off! Bonner still has three in front of you!”

Doesn’t sound like Coach is upset with him for breaking ranks, Jimmy thought, further addling his increasingly tired mind. He was on the opposite side of the course from his coach, so Ames did not spot him immediately. It was not until Jimmy was already half-way into the hill that he heard instruction.

“DON’T HOLD BACK SPRINGER!!” He added an emphatic swear for good measure.

OK, now he sounds upset …

Fear and adrenaline kicked in and Jimmy went to work on the hill. He pumped his arms furiously as he drove through, tearing past his previously stalked prey in blue and keeping eyes up on a pack of about six runners rapidly approaching. As he leaned into another turn, he refused to check behind him and instead scanned hungrily in front for the tall, orange figure of Burke. A switch had flipped within him. He wasn’t supposed to be waiting or pacing. For the first time in his high school career, he was racing. And his competitive energies were now locked in on catching Matt Burke.

Storming through the course, he gained steam with every runner he paced. Numbers floated to his ears, only half-comprehended as he zoomed onward. 23! 18! But nothing changed his strategy. Nothing swayed his focus. He pressed on ferociously, refusing to take his eyes from the towering figure in orange and blue.

Jimmy flew down a steep downhill and, barely maintaining his balance, careened around a sharp turn. He was within two or three seconds of Matt. One final surge would bring him to his shoulder. But as Jimmy completed the turn, he looked up in horror at a large, intimidating hill that the runners ahead of him were beginning to climb. All of a sudden, he realized his legs were burning and his breathing was rough and strained. Running to the base of the mountain, he let his head droop to look at his feet.

“Come on, Jimmy! Attack the hill!”

“You’re doing great Jim-bo! Keep fighting!”

He recognized the voices. They floated clearly to him amidst the frenzied screaming of fans and coaches. Both of his parents cheered loudly from their position next to the course and transferred through their voices, a little burst of momentum flooded to him. His fight was renewed as he picked up his eyes, his knees, and his pace. He locked back in on Matt’s jersey. As the pair crested the hill and prepared for yet another sharp downhill, they were finally running side by side.

Matt peered sideways as his teammate came to his shoulder. Burke had previously been struggling, but the fear of losing to his teammate had reinvigorated him. Coming back down the hill, the duo opened up their strides, each sprinting furiously, nearly out of control, hoping to drop the other. As they approached 800 meters to go, they passed a few more opposing runners, but their attention was only on one another.

Jimmy’s body ached as he crested yet another hill, driving his arms to try and aid his failing legs. He wanted to simply quit or relax and coast to the finish, but to his right, Matt was unrelenting. So he followed. Almost there. You have to be almost there. Turn your brain off and race.

But as the young freshman wrapped around a tree he realized, to his dismay, that he was facing one final, steep climb. He had completely forgotten what his teammates had talked about all week in practice. It was the course’s final and most difficult hill, a cruel prank at the end of a gut-wrenching journey: “Cardiac Hill”. You’ve got to be kidding me …

Defeated, Jimmy’s shoulders drooped and his head fell, as he slowed dramatically into the ascent. He had taken a hard punch to the stomach and it had allowed his previous fears to resurface. Conversely, Matt powered through the incline, beginning to reopen a gap. Burke looked ridiculous, his arms flying wildly in all directions, trying to will his body through the hill. But there was no doubt he was pushing his body to its limits.

As he hit the top, Matt looked back for a split second to check for Jimmy. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before Matt turned to break into his sprint. He thinks he’s got me. For some reason, in that instant, the last remains of his competitive fire burned once more. I don’t want to lose to this guy. I can’t lose to this guy.

Jimmy hit the top of the hill with an extra shot of enthusiasm. His legs were like rubber, but he focused his energies on efficiently turning over, trying to hold form despite the overwhelming physical pressure to let it fall to pieces. He could see the clock just ahead of him, see the point where he needed to cross the line and it furthered his confidence. It’s right there. Don’t hold back. Just sprint. He tried furiously to convince himself it was a good idea. Come on, just sprint. Go. GO! And he blasted from his spot, breaking as best he could into a furious finishing kick. It was easier, now that he had hit this final gear, to hold this upgraded intensity. He was flying down the straightaway, chasing his senior teammate, embracing the dull roar of the crowd. His surroundings were essentially a blur; nothing was clear besides the single towering figure in orange just ahead of him. There were other runners nearby, but he ignored them. Nothing seemed to motivate him the same way his fellow Viking did. And with a concerted effort, steps before the line, Jimmy charged ahead of his rival. I got him. With great pride, he eased his way through the finish line, finally allowing himself to relax his strained mind and aching physique.

Suddenly a body came soaring along his left side, falling wildly to the ground and tumbling forward through the finish shoot. It was Matt, throwing down one final sprint for the lead, never giving up until the race was completely over. And he had been rewarded.

Walking through the finish area in a haze of shock and anger, Jimmy bypassed the water station and immediately sought out the Union Valley tent. Inwardly, he screamed a string of curses as he walked along in silence. He kicked a tree branch on the ground in frustration, but his legs were not recovered enough to support his efforts. Stumbling and losing balance, he tripped over himself and landed painfully on the cold ground. For a moment, he lay there, sprawled on his back and watching his stomach rise and fall with each breath. I had him … How I could let him beat me?

Somewhere in the distance, Jimmy could hear Glenn Fisher’s voice talking excitedly to someone, recounting the race.

“Once I got to the bottom of the hill, I knew it was go time and it was just all about guts. I don’t have the natural gifts that those guys have, but I just thought, ‘I’ve worked so much harder than all these guys, I deserve this’ and that’s when I made my move.”

A variety of other stories were floating to him as more and more runners cleared the finish line and flowed out among the spectators, finding parents and teammates to recount their journey. The Union Valley squad appeared to be assembling around Fisher and Coach Ames near their tent. Jimmy had no desire to rise and join them. He simply laid on his back, eyes closed, gently tapping the back of his hands into his head again and again. I had him … I effing had him …

“You good, superstar?” Jimmy felt a gentle kick to his right lat muscle and opened his eyes. Matt stood over him, looking mentally and physically drained. Exactly how Jimmy felt. He extended a hand and helped pull Springer to his feet.

“Yeah, I’m fan.” Jimmy mumbled, finding his balance as he prepared to walk alongside his teammate. “Good race, man.” It pierced him as he said it. It made the loss feel more real.

“Yeah, you too …” Matt sounded equally despondent. “Just sucks, I think I missed my one chance to beat you today. You’ll only get better from here.”

Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks. “What the heck are you talking about?”

Matt rubbed his forehead and grimaced, coping with his exhaustion. “You know … this is your first race, you’re going to get the hang of it-”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You beat me. I saw you … I saw you pass me, right there at the end.”

“Nah, pretty sure I just missed you.” He put his arm around Jimmy’s shoulder and encouraged him to keep walking back in the direction of the tent. “It’s chip timing anyway, so they will go off foot rather than torso. They won’t review that sort of thing unless it’s like states or something.”

“Well then it doesn’t really count does it?” Jimmy said, “I’m not counting a win like that.” All of a sudden, he was having an easier time accepting and embracing the defeat. He was proud to have fought this battle with his teammate and proud of his opponent’s accomplishment.  

Matt smiled, bemused by Springer’s denials. “Fine, I guess we can call it a tie.” They were back at the tent now and they split from one another to change their clothes. “For the sake of team scoring it all counts the same anyway. I think we both might have cracked the top 10 individuals.”

“Wait, really?” Jimmy had completely forgotten the team competition. He had been so absorbed in his individual struggle. “So how’d we do as a team?”

“Well I took 2^nd,” Glenn said proudly, joining in on the conversation. “Dooney and Armstrong both think they were top 30 or so,”

“Coach said 29^th and 35^th,” Reggie called from his position on the ground as he changed into his training shoes. “We are looking at a score somewhere in the low 80s.”

“Might be enough to win, how many Bonner guys were out front? They had a big pack down by us …”

Jimmy turned his attention away from discussion of the team championship and instead searched outside the tent for his parents. He spotted them a short distance away, talking to an older, taller man he recognized as Mr. Burke.

“Dad will be happy,” Matt said, hopping up to join Jimmy as he walked toward his parents, “I missed his PR again this week. But I think I can get him on a faster course.”

“What did we run?”

“I thought it was like 16:40-16:45,”

“Ah, yeah I’ve got some work to do to get my Mom’s time then,” Jimmy muttered casually.

“Are you serious?” It was Matt’s turn now to stop dead, “What’s her best time?”

Jimmy smiled, “15:25.” And he walked on, leaving Matt struggling to return his jaw to its normal position.

GO TO CHAPTER ELEVEN