When Winning Isn't Enough

This is a work of fiction based loosely on the life of a famous runner. It relies on the misdiagnosis of an emotional disorder, which creates very unexpected behavior. Hope you enjoy it and take the time to rate and comment. The story begins with Linda only 15 years old, for background purposes, but there is no sexual activity until she is 18. The same is true for her boyfriend, Jack.

***

"Hey, buddy. Good to get back into the grind, isn't it?" Newton Conrad said, stifling a laugh.

"I can hardly wait," Frank Turner answered, rolling his eyes.

"These summers with nothing to do are sooo boring for us teachers."

"Maybe for you, but I've painted houses for the last ten summers. The wife enjoys the extra money."

"I probably should do something like that too. Might score a few points with Gianna. But listen, I have a question for you."

"Shoot.

"The girl who ran for you last year who's going to be a freshman, is she as good as she sounds?"

Frank smiled. "Linda Baker? Better. Way better."

"How's that?" Newton, the high school track and cross-country coach, asked, a puzzled look crossing his face. "Her times already seem a little beyond belief."

"They are, and your main job will be to keep her from hurting herself."

"Wait, are we talking about the same long-legged blonde, kind of pretty too? She looks a little like a party girl."

"She would stay on that track, running herself to death, until it got too dark to see if I'd let her."

"Holy shit. No kidding?"

"Yeah. You keep her healthy, and she'll win you more state championships all by herself than you've had in your career."

"Come on, Frank. I've had, let's see, six already, and I've got a nearly sure shot in the high jump this year for seven."

"You just remember, and in four years, you'll be telling me how right I was. She may cover that seven by the end of her sophomore year. Two in cross-country, two each in the 1600-meter and 3200-meter runs, and if you get a couple more girls to run, she'll anchor a relay or two for you as well. Plus, you might sneak her into the 800 meters one or two years too."

"You're awfully damn optimistic, Frank. That's a hell of a future you've laid out for her...and me."

"Just keep her healthy, and she'll do it."

***

"Hey, Linda. Have you got a second?"

"Oh, hello, Mr. Conrad, um, Coach Conrad."

"Did you have a quiet and restful summer?"

"Sort of, sir. I mean, I didn't have a job or anything, but I did a lot of running."

"That sounds good," Newton, who most people called Newt, said with a laugh. "Getting ready for cross-country season?"

"Trying to, I guess."

"How much running have you been doing?"

"Oh, five or six miles at a time."

"At a time?" Her saying it that way piqued Newt's curiosity.

"I ran twice a day as often as I could. Cross country is new for me, and I'd like to do well."

"Wait, wait. You say you were running five or six miles and twice a day sometimes?" Those were numbers Newt had never encountered in a high school runner.

"Yes, sir. Is something wrong with that?"

"How old are you, Linda?" Coach Conrad had a concerned look on his face.

"I just turned fifteen. Is that bad?" She looked frightened.

"Turning fifteen is good, but running that far at fifteen might be, well, dangerous, I guess."

It was Linda's turn to look concerned, and she looked away from Coach Conrad.

"I don't want to do anything dangerous." Linda didn't feel like she was doing anything dangerous, but training for cross country was new, and she wasn't sure.

"I'm sure there's no other girl in the state that's running that much or that many miles. But that many miles can be tough on muscles and joints, particularly for someone your age. Tonight is our first team practice, and we'll talk a little about that. What's done is done, and I assume you're okay?"

Linda shook her head in assent. "Oh, yes. I'm feeling great and ready to start racing." She paused for a second, then looked at Coach Conrad. "I want to win four state championships, sir, so my parents will be proud of me."

"My guess is that they'd be proud of you if you won three," Newt replied, chuckling.

"Oh, no. I need to win four." The look on her face spoke of grit and determination, a look he'd soon become accustomed to seeing.

Newt wondered if her parents were pushing her to do that or if she had decided that for herself. He'd certainly be happy with three, but he remembered Frank Turner, her junior high coach's words. He'd predicted four.

"I'll do my best to help you do that, Linda, but sounds like you're well on your way already. Are you running with the other girls or by yourself?"

Linda looked at the ground. "No, sir. I run by myself. Um, the other girls say I run too fast. Maybe I can run with the boys."

She was only fifteen, but if she ran like he thought she would, the boys might not want to run with her either. Crawford High was devoid of outstanding male runners this year, so Linda might be out of luck there also.

"Don't worry, we'll work something out, and we'll know a lot more after practice starts when we see how fast everyone is running."

"Okay, Coach Conrad. That sounds good." Linda gave a little wave, smiled, and headed off...at a jog.

"I know that was a teacher, but which one?" Adel, Linda's best friend asked as the blond came to a stop.

"Mr. Conrad, the cross country coach, too."

"He getting you ready to run?"

"He didn't have to do that--but he did want to talk to me. I have my running--you have Jeremy." Linda chuckled.

"I hope I can keep him when he sees all the new girls here at Crawford. You need to get a guy so we can double-date."

"Too busy running and studying for that. Maybe some day."

"You're a pretty girl, Linda. Guys will be after you."

"Not gonna happen," Linda replied decisively. "Let's get to class."

***

"How's practice going, honey?" Wendel Baker asked, taking a big bite of roast beef, dipped thoroughly in the mashed potatoes and gravy.

"It's good, Dad. Coach won't let me run as much as I want, but I need to run a lot if I want to be a state champion." She was shaking her head, looking discouraged, something they saw more of since school and practice had started.

"Honey, I'm sure the coach is just looking out for you, so you don't hurt yourself. You're running way harder than I did when I was in high school." That was certainly an understatement. He had gotten to the state meet as a senior, so he certainly wasn't a slacker. But this near-obsession with running more and being the very best was something he wasn't used to.

"I'm going to win four state championships just in cross country and more in track. You're going to be SO proud of me." A huge smile spread across Linda's face.

There it was again, a nearly impossible dream that could lead to overwhelming disappointment, but her confidence was amazing, as was her dedication. Both parents wondered where this had come from.

"Honey, we're proud of you right now, whether you win or not." Molly Baker had said this to Linda more than once, but it never seemed to make an impression on her. It was all or...well, actually, just all.

"I know, Mother," Linda answered, frustration in her voice. They obviously didn't understand how important it was. "But, I mean...never mind."

"You better finish your dinner, or you won't have enough energy to do any running."

Linda snorted and sighed deeply. When she'd won, they'd learn just what being proud really was. She had to win to make that happen.

She finished her dinner and headed to her room to study, but more importantly, to record her miles and times for the day, hoping she'd met her goals. It was a time she treasured, but already, after just a week, she was falling behind since Coach Conrad was restricting her miles and speed. Linda vowed to do some running from home to make up the difference. She glanced at the poster on the wall: "17:23" written in felt marker, the winning time in last year's state meet. It was a visual goal, but Linda wanted to run faster--had to run faster to be certain of winning. Her goal was to post a new sign at the end of the season--her state-meet winning time, the goal for next year.

She studied the numbers in her book, adding, subtracting, and dividing in her head, processing the results over and over, sometimes pacing the floor as she struggled with ways to make the numbers meet her expectations. It was sometimes exhilarating, and other times desperately frustrating. Finally, she got to her studies.

***

"Ladies, we've learned a lot from practice and the short-timed runs we've done, but today we're going to have a full-course time trial. Next weekend is our first invitational, and we have to figure out who's doing what." Newt was anxious to find if he had a competitive team or simply a single outstanding runner.

"We're all going to be running," someone in the back said, and even Coach laughed.

"You've got it, running. Stacy and Kate will be at one and two miles calling out times, and I'll be at the finish giving you your time. Remember it in case we can't get it written down."

The seventeen runners went to the starting line, laughing and talking except for Linda, whose intensity and focus was apparent. Coach gave them a loud "GO," and the girls scampered away. It was about a hundred meters to where the course entered the woods, and Linda was thirty meters ahead when she disappeared into the trees. Coach Conrad smiled.

"Hey, Newt, I heard you're having a time trial, and I thought I'd check to see if Linda is living up to my hype." Hands in pockets, Frank nudged his fellow coach with his shoulder.

"I suspect she will, but she's kind of scary. I've never had a girl runner who's so intense. If I tell her to run five 400s in seventy-five, she'll run six in seventy--or sixty-five. If I tell her to back off and do what I say, it's like I've told her she's no good, or I'm scolding her or something." Newt was shaking his head. "Maybe she's right, and I'm wrong."

"I saw the same kind of thing and wondered, just as you have. And she was only fourteen then."

They stood and talked cross-country things until they saw a familiar blonde in running gear burst out of the woods heading toward them.

"Ho-ly shit," Newt said slowly, looking at his watch.

"What?" Frank said, trying to catch a glimpse of the watch.

"Just wait, and listen," Newt cautioned.

Long legs churning, arms pumping, and ponytail bouncing, Linda was not letting up a bit as she approached the finish. As she flew past, Newt called out her time.

"Seventeen forty-six," he yelled, hardly able to believe what he'd just said. He looked at Frank, whose eyes were wide.

"Is that for real?" Frank asked, getting a nod from Newt.

Linda was quickly back, breathing hard with hands above her head, the proper attitude at the end of an exhausting run. She had an anxious look on her face.

"Did you say seventeen forty-six?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Wow. I sure did," Newt said, expecting a more joyful expression.

Instead, a look of disappointment crossed Linda's face, and she gazed off toward the trees.

"Crap," she said softly and began to walk away, hands on hips now.

"Linda, wait," Newt said, following behind her, knowing none of the other girls would be finishing soon. "What's wrong?"

Her face had a defeated look, her eyes closed.

"I ran the second mile way too slow and couldn't make up for it in the third." She shrugged. "I wanted to go seventeen thirty."

"Linda, that's state-meet time."

"I know. That's what I wanted." She wondered why Coach Conrad didn't understand.

"The state is two months away, Linda, but that time would have finished third or fourth last year." Newt was working to break into what he felt was Linda's fantasy world.

"So?" she said, "I don't want to finish third or fourth. I want to win, to finish first."

This was something Newt had never dealt with. He was usually pushing, encouraging, and even threatening the girls about running more, working harder, and running faster. This was a dream that could easily turn into a nightmare. He prayed he could handle it correctly.

"So," Newt said, "we want to peak for the state meet, and not too early. After that"--he paused for effect, hoping it might work--"could be The Midwest Meet of Champions if all goes well." The expression on Linda's face slowly changed, transforming into a pleasant smile. As he watched her face light up, Newt relaxed a little. She was certainly a challenge.

"After I win the state," she added.

***

At the first invitational meet that involved twenty-eight teams, more than a few coaches and spectators stood open-mouthed as Linda, the unknown freshman, sailed home in seventeen twenty-nine, just under two minutes ahead of second place.

It was hard to compare times on cross-country courses as they were notoriously poorly measured and often varied from year to year as the people who marked the course forgot which tree or which bush indicated where the course turned. Rather than time, how you fared against other runners was a better measure of progress.

But for Linda, times were sacred, and she coveted the reductions she worked to achieve. She usually finished so far ahead of her competition that the huge differences in times and distances seemed meaningless.

Subsequent meets produced the same results as Linda was pushing toward the seventeen-minute barrier. Newt was in awe of his freshman runner, who never seemed satisfied with what she'd done and continually challenged herself to do more...faster...more...faster.

At last, it was the Monday of state-meet week, and, as always, Linda walked to school; if you could call the pace she maintained walking. Halfway there, to her chagrin, she was joined by fellow freshman Jackson Murphy. It wasn't that Jack was more annoying than others she'd decided; it was that he constantly interrupted and distracted her. Actually, as she thought more about it, Jack was a little more annoying than others, but that was because he liked her. She couldn't be bothered with a boy liking her, particularly during cross-country season. But, here he was.

"Hi, Linda," Jack said, falling in beside her and trying to keep up. "How come you walk so fast?"

Looking a bit annoyed, Linda was sure he'd asked that before. "It's good exercise and helps with the cross country," she replied, not looking at Jack.

"You run at practice every day."

Thank you, Captain Obvious she thought but didn't say it. "Yeah, but I want to win the state championship."

"You're a freshman. Do freshmen win state championships?"

She sighed. "I will."

Now breathing hard and totally surprising her, Jack said, "Can we go to a movie on Sunday?"

"Sorry, not during cross country," she answered abruptly. She certainly was not going to be interested in any boy, particularly dating one during the season. But she was fifteen and normal in that she was curious about boys and dating and might give it a try between November and March. And it might as well be Jack.

"Maybe later then?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe," she said and added a smile. She'd never had a date and had no idea what it might be like. She wondered what it would be like to kiss a boy. Maybe kiss Jack? She giggled to herself but knew she was getting to be a pretty girl. Both grandmas told her that all the time. Jack was, well, Jack. But he was cuter than lots of the other guys despite the way he was constantly annoying her. Yeah, maybe a date when she was a state champion.

The "maybe," along with the smile, caused Jack to smile, despite his labored breathing. He did like Linda--who wouldn't? She was a fifteen-year-old cutie with her long blonde hair, slender frame, and a face he could stare at for hours. He knew she was fiercely into her running and wished he was a runner too. That wasn't going to happen as he was a musician, piano and singing. But he was at every home meet to watch her, astounded at how fast she could run and how long she could run that fast. Now, if she'd only say yes instead of maybe. He could be patient and was willing to wait until that maybeturned intoyes.

They were at the school and waved to each other as they headed to their homerooms. Linda had read books and magazine articles by some of the best female runners in the world, and one of the main themes she encountered was that it took complete dedication and ignoring many of the things that could attack that dedication, such as parties, drugs, or alcohol, television, video games, and, last of all...men, or in her case, boys. She thought she might be able to like Jack--he was very likable, despite being annoying. But he was out-of-luck for the immediate future.

She'd also read in several books that well-adjusted people had a zero chance of being an Olympic champion. She didn't understand what that meant exactly, but it bothered her a little since in the back of her mind lurked an unspoken dream of being an Olympic champion. She might have to ask her Mom and Dad about it, or maybe Coach Conrad.

The week went smoothly as she tapered slightly for the state meet. Her tapering would be an abnormally hard workout for the average high-school girl, but she sensed that her legs were feeling better and even rested as the big Saturday approached.

Coach Conrad sat her down for a lengthy discussion of the course--more hills than she was used to--and a couple of transitions across asphalt. He talked to her about how to deal with the other runners--there'd be more girls who would be running faster and might be close to her, so she needed to prepare for some jostling and bumping. She listened but already knew what her strategy would be--she'd simply run faster than the other girls and be far enough ahead that the course and the jostling wouldn't be a factor.

Coach realized that he often talked to Linda as he would any promising runner, but she was usually far ahead of him and had already figured out what she would do. But he did tell her to be sure to get a good night's sleep on Thursday night as that was the key time since sleeping Friday night might well be a lost or hopeless cause.

She was amazed at how her body felt, relaxed, pain-free, and ready. She so convinced herself that she was completely prepared for the meet that she did sleep well Thursday night. Not so much Friday as her mind continually ran and reran the race, and she got only a few hours of sleep.

She was awake just slightly before her alarm would have sounded, and she dressed carefully in her running uniform and sweats. She double-checked her duffle bag to ensure she'd have everything she needed, including spare shoes and laces. She put fresh spikes in her shoes and checked them three times. She didn't need to have spikes falling out on a day like this.

Her mother was up and preparing her simple breakfast--a small bowl of oatmeal with milk and an equally small bowl of fruit with yogurt. She'd have an energy bar close to race time. As she brought the spoon to her mouth, she noticed it was shaking.

Her father had just come into the kitchen and noticed it too.

"Nervousness is normal and good," he said, "but trembling uses up needed energy. Take some deep breaths and see if you can relax." He rubbed the top of her blonde head and smiled.

Linda took several deep breaths, and it seemed to help. She finished her breakfast and smiled at both parents, a bit of a nervous smile.

"I'm going to make you guys proud of me today."

Molly Baker extended her arms to her daughter and hugged her tightly. She was proud of Linda in every way possible. She didn't need to win a state championship to make her proud. Never an athlete, she couldn't quite understand this fixation with winning. It was supposed to be fun, and if you won, good. Linda was different, though. Certainly different.