When Winning Isn't Enough

"Let me get my bag, and you can take me to the school, Dad." She hurried upstairs to get her duffle.

"I don't think I want to show Linda this," he said, extending the morning paper to Molly. It was open to the sports page where the headline read, "Linda Baker Favored to Bring State Title to Crawford High."

"Oh my goodness, should she see that?" Molly asked, giving Wendel a questioning look.

"That headline reads, 'Pressure,' and she puts enough of that on herself. Plus, if she doesn't win, heaven forbid, she doesn't need to see it either."

"What if she doesn't win? How do we deal with that?"

"Right now, I don't know."

***

Wendel Baker had been a runner, and he enjoyed checking out the course and cautioning Linda about anything that might create some concern. She always warmed up on the course as well and was usually aware of problem areas but enjoyed that her dad wanted to be involved with her running. At the state meet, he was confined to the grandstand, and he nervously paced the top row, binoculars around his neck, waiting for the start.

Linda was looking around, trying to catch a glimpse of two of her four main competitors. She'd run against the other two already and had seen one of those two eying her warily. She was nervous, though. This was what she'd dreamt of and worked toward for over a year, and in a little over seventeen minutes, she'd know. All of those other four were part of a team that had qualified and had friends to keep them company and talk with. Linda knew that could be relaxing and reassuring...or distracting. She preferred being by herself, so she could concentrate, although she was sorry that her teammates wouldn't get to experience the excitement of the state meet other than being in the crowd to watch her run.

She warned up carefully, getting a wave as she did from Amelie Lefebure, the defending champion, who Linda had sized up to be her main competition. They'd raced twice in invitationals, and Linda had won by fifteen seconds each time. Still, things can change.

Everyone was gathering at the starting line, over one hundred nervous and fidgeting runners. Linda hoped her assigned place would be near one of the ends, but all the individuals were clustered in the center. It took a while to get things spaced so that the runners weren't crushed together. Lots of elbows, bumping, shifting side to side, searching for space. At last, the whistle blew, and everyone crouched, ready.

At the sound of the gun, Linda exploded, sprinting to clear the rest of the runners. In front of her was two-hundred meters of grassy field that led into a woods. As expected, the favored five led the way into the woods, Linda leading the pack. She tried to sense where the other runners were without looking back. The spectators along the course were a big help in this with their cheering and their looking at the runners. Linda had been nervous when the five had gone into the woods in a pack, but when they'd come back into the open, she was ten meters in front and feeling like she wanted to run even faster.

So, she did.

Now, as she passed the spectators, they looked at her, and then their heads snapped around to see the other runners. Her spirits soared as that told her they had to be twenty-five or thirty meters behind, and she was running comfortably. When they called her time at two miles, she was sure her eyes widened. Ten-fifty-six. She'd run that fast before, but on a flat and suspect course, not on a hilly and carefully measured course like this one.

She began to press a little, conscious of how she was feeling, aware that her legs felt ready to do more. She kept it up, smiling to herself, spurred on by how energized she felt. Almost surprised, she rounded a corner to find the two-hundred-meter field stretched out in front of her, the finish line at the far end. Arms pumping and knees lifting higher, Linda watched that finish line draw closer and closer, no longer thinking about the other runners but only that finish. She pushed herself even harder, lungs ready to burst.

At ten yards from the line, all the observers were treated to a huge smile from the pretty fifteen-year-old. Two yards past the line, the tears began as Linda looked around, ignoring the other runners, finally spotting her parents standing at the fence. Actually, they were outside the fence and jumping up and down. She went through the finish line procedure, then spotted the gate in the fence and squirmed through, hearing the yelled congratulations as she raced to her parents and gave each a giant squeeze. Jackson was standing with them and got a joyful hug as well, causing a grin equal to Linda's.

"Linda, we're so proud of you," Molly said, conscious of how important that seemed to be for Linda.

"Thanks, Mom," Linda said, thinking that her mom always said that, but now she had done something to make her proud.

Panting, she went back through the gate where she and Coach Conrad did a hug-dance.

"You did it, girl, just like you planned."

More tears. "I...it's just..." She looked at her coach. "I did it."

They were joined by another panting runner. Amelie Lefebure gave Linda a hug.

"You're too tough," she said. "I was giving more than I had, and you were still running away from me. What was your time?"

"I don't know yet."

"I got a time," Coach Conrad said, "but I'm not sure it's accurate, so let's wait for the official time. And congratulations, Amelie. You were probably ten seconds ahead of third."

"Thanks," Amelie said, her breathing more normal now. "Thank goodness I can move on to college and won't have to face this one again--at least for three more years. Good luck," she added and jogged away toward her teammates.

It wasn't too long before they called the winners to the award stand for the presentation of their medals. Fifth place was awarded first, then the others until it was Linda's turn.

Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, representing Crawford High School, Linda Baker.

There were loud cheers, applause, and whistling as Linda climbed onto the top step of the stand, the big smile returning to her face as she waved to the crowd after the medal was hung on her neck. Then, a pause as everyone waited.

Linda's winning time was sixteen minutes, fifty-three and seventy-eight one-hundredths seconds, which establishes a new state record by more than eight seconds.

Linda's mouth was wide, and she could barely breathe as the crowd roared its approval again, and she was congratulated by the other four runners. She climbed down and once more searched for her parents, who found her. Jackson was with them, hoping to relive Linda's hug, but satisfied with being close to her.

In the car and headed home, Linda and Jack were in the back seat, and he was basking in the sheer joy that emanated from her. He'd never seen her quite like this, and neither had her parents.

There was no way they could understand what was happening inside her. Although the race was long over, Linda's heart was still pounding. She was ecstatic about winning. To win four championships, she had to win this one, and she'd done that. She was trying to think of which of the runners would be returning and could improve. Of course, there could be a freshman, as she was, who surprised people, as she had done, and might unseat her, as she had done to Amelie.

She fingered the medal still hanging around her neck, pondering what she needed to do to prepare for track season. More speed work, and ... she heard Jack's voice.

"That was fantastic, Linda. I can hardly believe I'm sitting here beside a state champion, and I know her."

"Thanks, Jack. I'm just me." She heard herself say it but wondered if she meant it. He said she was a state champion...and she was. She had never felt so excited, but there was so much to be done. She had 1600- and 3200-meter championships to win in the spring, and she couldn't relax.

"Honey, you won, and now you can relax, at least for a little while." Her mother had turned and was smiling into the back seat.

Linda returned the smile but realized her mother didn't understand. Still, a week off might not hurt. It might even make her more hungry.

"For a little while," she said, then turned to Jack. "You still want to go to the movie tomorrow?"

A shocked boy just looked at her for seconds before blurting out, "Yes."

She was excited, still high on adrenaline, she guessed, but the thought of having a date was exciting, even if it was with unexciting Jack. She didn't know Jack well at all, only from their brief walks to school, but maybe he'd surprise her. She smiled at him; he was obviously enthusiastic...and looked anxious.

"You pick a movie," he said and received another smile.

Even as a fifteen-year-old, she could appreciate his courtesy.

"Well, thank you," she said. "But if we want to walk, we'd better go to The Clifton and see whatever's there." For her first date, she didn't want to be driven around by either set of parents. She was, after all, a state champion, even if it was for only an hour by this time.

They were soon home, and Linda and Jack bid each other goodbye, deciding on four o'clock Sunday for their date.

Once inside the house, she got a warm hug from both parents.

There was a call to both grandmas, three reruns of the race, a trip to Longhorn Steakhouse for a celebratory dinner where Linda was recognized by a father and daughter who had finished fifty-third in the state meet. The look of awe on the girl's face as she talked with Linda brought forth a surge of pride in Wendel and Molly.

At home, they watched some TV, staying up late for the eleven o'clock news where Linda was able to watch herself sprinting the last fifty meters to the finish line, the sports anchor repeating several times, "And she's only a freshman." She went to bed smiling and hoped she could sleep. Tomorrow she'd have to make a new sign for her room. She curled up under her covers, still smiling, and was quickly asleep.

She awoke Sunday morning and stretched, yawned, and slowly climbed out of bed before what had happened just yesterday burst into her mind. It was real. All the running, the talking, the hopes, and dreams had come to pass. She had her first state championship--three more to go.

She was ready for another first--the date with Jack. She hoped that Sunday would be as successful as Saturday, even if she wasn't sure what that would mean.

***

At four o'clock, almost to the second, Jack knocked on the front door, Linda suspecting that he had been waiting outside and checking his watch. His big smile of yesterday was still there, and she could see he was as excited about the date as she was. It was a first for both, and the excitement was natural.

Jack watched the pretty blonde, now at least locally famous, who would be spending the afternoon with him, not because he caught up with her on the way to school, but because she chose to be with him. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her since that first day of school, and now he was glancing at her hand, wondering if he'd be brave enough to take hold of it. Time would tell.

Following his mother's prompt, he said, "You look nice. I love that dress." It was the first time he had seen her in a dress.

Her cheeks pinking, she said, "Thank you, Jack. I like that shirt, too. Is that a Chaps logo?"

Jack glanced at his chest and chuckled. "I dunno, maybe, I guess. I got this for my birthday." Then, after a deep breath, he offered his hand. When she took hold of it, electric shocks raced through his body. Her smile only multiplied the effect. He wondered what would come next.

"We'll see you later, honey," she heard as she went through the front door, still holding Jack's hand. If he was willing to offer it, she was more than willing to hold it. She was anxious to enjoy her first date.

"So, you've been a state champion for a day now; how does it feel?"

Linda's heart began pounding anew as the memory flooded back.

"Like...like...I don't know," she said, biting her lower lip as she spontaneously squeezed his hand.

When she did that, he wondered if she could feel his heart pounding through his hand.

Suddenly the words began spilling out. "I almost can't believe it, even after all the dreaming, and hoping, and running, and the shaking and lying awake at night and then being there with all those great runners and then being ahead and...and..."

"Winning." He finished it for her.

"Yes," she said, tightly holding his hand again, "and winning," with another squeeze.

Jack was as near to heaven as he was likely to get as he and Linda bounced along the sidewalk, so thankful he had decided to hold her hand. About two more of those squeezes, and he might just float away. Along with all the tight hand-holding, somewhere along the way, she had switched to an interlocked fingers grip. He knew she was so excited about winning the state meet that she didn't even realize what she had done. He couldn't care less.

As much as she enjoyed walking with Jack, they were at the theater, and she watched as he bought the tickets. She thought she recognized the girl selling the tickets from school, and the girl was talking to Jack, both of them glancing over at her.

"So," she said, giggling, "what was that about?" She watched the red creeping into Jack's face.

"She recognized you and said she saw you on the news last night." More flushing down his neck now. "She asked if I had a date with you and then said, 'Cool.' I agree with her; it is cool."

Linda smiled, took hold of his hand, and they went inside.

They were almost surprised that the sun had set when they left the theater, but walking home in the gathering darkness was fun. The air was cool, the gentle breeze stirring her blonde hair, which fascinated Jack. She might be only fifteen, but as far as he was concerned, she was gorgeous.

Much more comfortable with each other already, they laughed, bumped hips, and shared lots of nothing all the way to Linda's house. They stopped under a tree where it was dark before they had to face the light from her front porch.

"Jack," she said. I had a great time. I'd like to do this again sometime."

"Me too, Linda. And we will."

She was a state champion, but he was determined not to let that deter him and vowed to himself to be patient during track season, as difficult as that would be.

***

Linda began the winter athletic season, promising herself not to allow her training and conditioning to slip even a tiny bit. She'd arranged with the school to use the track team locker room under the stadium so she could use the outdoor track for her workouts. She was already concentrating on speed work, enjoying the change from the distance regime she'd followed for cross country. She'd have to adapt to the colder weather, but that was a minor issue.

She'd also had more dates with Jack...and was enjoying them way more than she had anticipated. They went to another movie, had a picnic that Jack's mother had prepared, and he had taken her to Wendy's for dinner. "Order whatever you want," he'd said, and they laughed together. After Wendy's, they'd gone back to Jack's house.

"Wow, that's a big piano," Linda said as she ran her hand over the closed lid and tossed her coat onto a chair. She looked at Jack. "You play, don't you?" she asked, closing one eye and grinning at him.

"Yeah," he said, looking away from her.

"Well, play," she said, nodding at the piano. She'd nearly forgotten about Jack's music since he seldom mentioned it, but she was curious about it and anxious to see what he could play.

"Aw, you don't want to hear the piano."

Linda had changed a good bit since the state cross-country meet, gaining significant confidence not usually found in a fifteen-year-old. She leaned toward Jack and whispered.

"You get to watch me run, you know, to perform. Now's my chance to watch you."

She moved her coat and sat down in the chair, leaning forward, ready to listen.

He sighed. "Well, okay then. I have a new piece I've been working on, but I'll have to use music since it isn't memorized yet. Is that okay?"

Linda gave him a puzzled look. He was talking about something she didn't understand. She used the music in the hymnbook when they went to church on Sunday. She knew a few songs from memory but couldn't imagine playing a complicated piano piece without the sheets of music. Yet, Jack was apologizing for not having memorized the song he wanted to play for her.

"Oh my gosh, Jack. Sure, it's okay." At the same time, she was touched that he was asking her, realizing that, for him, it was important.

"Okay," he said, lifting the big lid of the grand piano, putting the prop in place, and finally pulling out the bench and sitting down. "You ever hear of Rachmaninoff?"

Linda shrugged. "Don't think so," she said, wishing that she had, so she could be more a part of what Jack was doing.

"Prelude in C# Minor," he said, looking at her nervously. He sat down, shuffled the bench into position, and checked the pedals. Then, he began to play.

The music rolled over her as Jack's hands, the same hands she held when they walked together, seemed to fly over the keys, his fingers moving so fast she couldn't follow them. She watched his face, the concentration obvious, his eyes only occasionally darting to the keys. As he played, she realized they were more alike than she had ever imagined, he with his piano, and she with her running. She marveled that his hands could create the amazing sounds while his eyes were fixed on the pages of music that he turned deftly as he played, never seeming to miss a note.

This Jack certainly wasn't the same guy who'd annoyed her on those mornings when she was walking to school. Still, it was the same Jack--she was just seeing a part of him she hadn't seen before. She wondered if he was seeing the same thing in her.

The music stopped quite suddenly, and Jack looked at Linda, a question on his face.

She began to applaude, a big smile on her face.

"You liked it then?" he asked, returning her smile.

She raised her eyebrows and chuckled as his mother came back into the room.

"He sings, too."

"Mom, don't." Jack pleaded.

"You sing too?" Linda was learning even more.

"Yeah, I try," he said, glaring at his mother.

"Okay," she said. "I guess we can save the singing for later." She chuckled.

To his mother, he said, "I've tortured her with the piano. That's enough for today."

"I'll walk you home," Jack said, waving to his mother, who came back into the living room.

"Come over anytime, Linda," she said.

"Thanks, Mrs. Murphy. Love your piano. It's beautiful."

When they got to the sidewalk, Jack stepped around her, so he was between her and the street. She'd asked her dad about that since Jack always seemed to do it, and he'd said it was a courtesy thing men used to do all the time. It made her smile as he grabbed hold of her hand. She teased him about singing to her as they walked, but, as they passed a streetlamp, she could see he was blushing and, feeling badly, she put her head on his shoulder.

At the front door,, she thanked him again for playing and made him promised he'd sing to her, and before too long.

Inside, she smiled. Sometimes Jack surprised her.

***

A month had passed, and Linda was trying to concentrate on her running, but the entries in her book weren't matching her expectations. In fact, she had even missed making the entries on a few occasions. It was early December, and the cold weather wasn't helping, even though she'd run in the cold last year. It just seemed that when classes ended for the day, it was difficult to find the motivation to change into sweats and face the cold rain that seemed to be falling almost every day.

Unusual for her, an excellent student, studies often sat there ignored since she couldn't quite bring herself to concentrate, and if she did get started on something, she found her mind drifting off, and she'd just sit there, staring off into the distance. It was unusual, and she didn't like it.