Page 143 of Running
Oh.
“I’ve simply never seen anything like it from someone who isn’t training. You’ve kept up your running, obviously. Your talent was always enormous. Did you enjoy it?”
I look away from her for a moment, focusing on the back of the room to gather my thoughts, before shifting my gaze back to her.
“I did. I do. I love to run. I—I don’t know about competing now though.”
She pauses, studying me. “Why? If it’s okay to ask.”
“It’s…only a couple of people know this, but something happened to me at the NCAA indoor tournament my senior year. Do you know Larry Smalls at all?”
Her nose crinkles. “I do.”
I explain to her what I overheard, and what it did to me following the competition. How I crumbled mentally. Her expression goes from surprise, to sympathy, to frustration.
When I finish, she takes a deep breath. “I’m deciding where to start with this, Grace. First, I’m so sorry that you overheard that from Larry. That must have been so difficult to shoulder alone. Larry is…just one person, in the end. He’s influential, but in this case, not only do I think he’s wrong, but I think you would have proven him wrong.”
I stare at her, taking in the words.
“You can still prove him wrong, let me correct that phrase.” She’s got the most serious expression on her face that I’ve seen since we met. “Would you have gone pro if you hadn’t heard his comment?”
I nod. There’s no denying I would have. “That was my plan. Train and go to school at the same time down here.”
She presses her lips together. “I think you can do that still, if you want it. For all we know, taking time off from competitions did your body a favor by giving it a break.”
Wow.
“In the meantime, it’s obvious that you still got it. You still got it and more, Grace.”
Her words are starting to sink in, and I feel a tightness in my chest.
“I don’t want to push you to do something that you don’twant to do, and unfortunately, I can’t coach you since you’re out of eligibility and I need to focus on the team. But I would absolutely introduce you to Sanders Ravenly at Fairview Elite’s program, if you want to explore going pro again.”
Oh my god, what? Sanders Ravenly—he’s coached several U.S. champions.
I can hardly breathe at this point, as the weight of her words sits on me.
“Oh, wow, Shelley. This is a lot to think about.”
She nods. “I know it is.”
I need to get out of here. To think. “Can I get back to you?”
At this point, she must be used to me making this request after our conversations. “Definitely.”
We say our farewells, though I hardly remember leaving her office, and when I walk out of the building, I head to the nearest bench and sit down. Reeling.
What exactly had Larry Smalls cost me? And even more precisely, what had I sacrificed in believing him more than I believed in myself?
If Shelley saw this potential in me, had I wasted almost two years of my running life because of some unkind words?
The thought brings with it a wave of anger. At him. Atmyself.
Why did I allow him to affect me so much?
But I know the answer. It’sme.I permitted it. I put my view of myself in the hands of another person, instead of owning it myself.
Just like I have with my mom so many times.
