Page 38 of Running
“Going from a busy house with your family to being on your own here—that’s a big change.” Her hand moves a couple inches on the armrest, like she wants to reach over to me. She holds herself back, though.
Suddenly uncomfortable with the raw moment, and feeling like I’m treading on dangerous ground, I try to downplay the issue.
“On the flip side, I bought the house for a reason. So I’ll manage the feelings for now. With the season starting, I’ll be super busy and traveling a lot anyway.”
She nods, letting me get away with dismissing the topic. I can tell her mind is still churning, though. About what, I’m not sure.
We should probably focus on the point of today, keep things simple. “You ready to go through the boxes I pulled together?”
She looks at the big pile. “Sure, let’s get started and see what treasures you have here.”
I chuckle, relieved that the intensity of our conversation has ticked down a few notches. “I don’t know about treasures, but nine-year-old me would be very excited.”
We spend the next hour sorting the items by the level of interest, value, and condition.
She comes up with an idea to bundle my old player cards into mystery boxes by sport—AKA “A mystery box of Johnson’s childhood baseball cards.” It’s perfect, because there aren’t anyindividual cards that are worth much. It’ll be fun for a collector to explore little finds.
We group together a bunch of the Alabama paraphernalia for me to sign too. I have so much that doesn’t mean anything to me, but will interest bidders since we won the national championship my last year.
As we finish the last Bama box, I notice an old medal out of the corner of my eye from a race I’d won in elementary school. It must have been stored with the baseball cards.
“Oh, you’ll like this.” I stand up and pick it up out of the pile. “Back from my own running days.”
She looks up in surprise, still seated in the armchair. “You did track? Cross country?”
“No, no.” I chuckle. “Nothing like that. This was just from a local race I did when I was a kid.”
She smiles. “Oh, that’s fun. I love the kid’s faces when they get medals at the road races I do these days.”
Her reaction inspires my curiosity about a part of Grace’s story I don’t totally understand. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
I take a step back to my chair, sitting down. “I remember from Landon’s excitement at the time that you were second at the NCAAs your senior year. In the 3000 meters, right?”
Her expressions shifts at my question. Like she’s bracing for something. Maybe she’s just uncertain as to why I’m bringing this up? “Yeah, that’s right. During the indoor championship.”
“Could you have pursued a pro running career? Did you just decide not to?” She stills. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
She waits several seconds to respond, pressing her hands into the sides of her legs.
“I’ve never told the boys about this, even Landon. Although they’ve never asked either. Only a couple of my good girlfriends know.”
I have no idea where this is going, but I’m now intent onhearing what she’s kept secret from her brothers. “Whatever you tell me, I promise to keep to myself.”
She swallows before speaking. “I could’ve gone pro, if I wanted to. It was just a question if I was good enough to be the best.” The last words carry subtle hints of hurt.
I stay quiet, trying to encourage her to continue talking through my silence. I don’t completely understand what she’s saying yet.
“This really influential professional coach, Larry Smalls—he coaches a bunch of pro runners, like the kind that go to Worlds and the Olympics.” I nod in acknowledgement of her explanation. “I overheard him talking to another coach at the NCAAs that year.Aftermy race.”
Oh, I don’t like how this sounds.
“He said that I’d never be good enough to be a world-class runner. That I wasn’t at that level. And that I wasn’t someone he would ever take on to coach as a result. Then the other coach agreed with him, maybe just to go along, I don’t know.” She says this part of her account like she’s reporting on a history lesson. Compartmentalizing, no doubt.
But my stomach turns at her words. “Oh, Grace. Shit. That sucks.”
“And I kind of collapsed mentally after that. I could barely run for months. I made an excuse to skip the rest of the outdoor season, including my last NCAA championship. I’d already applied to Tolliver, thinking I would juggle business school with training with a coach down here—it’s not unusual for pro track and field athletes to pursue a normal job career at the same time. Instead, I limited myself to school and helping Landon, as you know.”
