Page 68 of Running
“No worries. Her first couple of years at Tolliver, she was steady. Keeping up with her high school pace, even if not quite moving to the next level. I really had a lot of optimism for this year. But she’s been struggling the first couple of weeks of practice. With confidence mostly, not ability.”
I understand that for sure. My mind would get in the way of my performance all the time.
“That’s tough. How can I help, though?”
“This is kind of a hail mary, Grace, I’ll admit. I was hoping you might be willing to talk to her, maybe even work with her? With your incredible career in the same events and being only a couple years older—my gut is telling me you might help more than I could.”
The request hangs in the air, heavy around me.
On the one hand, the last thing I want is to reawaken flashbacks of Larry Smalls’ words by being in the mix of a competitive track athlete’s own struggles—and spiral again myself.
On the other hand, the memory of his critique is starting to fade. With each strong run. With each solid time. With reclaiming my love of track sessions.
So that my running isall mineto shape.
And I feel for Jasmine, based on what Coach Shelley described. It’s hard to be under the spotlight of expectations about your next goal for the years—sometimes decades—of an elite runner’s career.
“Can I think about it? I promise I’ll get back to you soon.”
“Absolutely. Thanks so much for even listening, Grace.”
We hang up, and I’m even more grateful for my lunch with Jessica. I need a break from these intense topics.
Jessica and I meet at a bistro in Haines City, which is near the Tolliver campus. It’s low-key and comfortable, so it’s a good spot for a relaxed hangout session.
“Please tell me you’re okay with me having a cocktail,” Jessica says as we pick up the menus, settling into our cozy booth. “It’s our one week off, and I’d love a mimosa.”
“Actually, that sounds great. I rarely drink out of habit from being in training for so many years, but a mimosa would be perfect today.”
She grins. “We’ll belatedly celebrate your success with the auction too.”
After the waitress takes our orders, we immediately launch into updates on the books we were reading at the time of the game. That evolves into a lively discussion of our top five books of all time. She likes dark romance more than I do, so she has a couple on her list that I haven’t read.
At this point, we’re a few sips into our mimosas too, and with our food order not out yet, we’re getting buzzed fast. Which probably accounts for what she blurts out while she’s explaining a particular stalker romance.
“Carter doesn’t mind any of it. He loves the ideas I get from the books.” Her eyes have a mischievous glean.
Whoa. Not where I thought this little lunch date would go, but I can’t help giggling.
“I’m sure. Although I’m going to block the image of him hunting you in a mask from my mind if that’s okay.”
She waves her hand at me, laughing herself. “Please do. But you need to download this one. It’s so good.”
I take another sip of my drink and nod. “I’ll give it a try.”
“So what about you, are you dating anyone? We only saw eachother in passing last season, and I can’t remember if there was a guy in the picture or not.”
I debate how to answer. I don’t want to lie, especially with someone who might become a real friend—but I also can’t share that Johnson is the one “in the picture.”
So I decide to be vague on his identity, but tell her more otherwise.
“There’s one guy that I’m starting to see. It’s very new, but we’ve known each other for a bit and—I think we both really like each other.” With every passing phrase, I can feel myself projecting more excitement about him.
“Oooooh, that’s so wonderful, Grace. Tell me more.”
Oh gosh. “Well, he’s—he’s a leader where he works. Tall, handsome, the dark beard look.”
“Yummy.”
