Chapter 17, Blog 2
By Chuck Wells As Told To Ray Hochgesang
Geri had transitioned to afternoon practices and meets, so I was limited to running with whomever showed up in the morning, whether they be humans or wild dogs. Sadly, it was none of the above – it was just freshmen.
They had the option of training in the morning or waiting until early evening when the varsity was finished. Many opted for mornings. It wasn’t bad. I had someone to run those damned intervals with – and bitch after each one. Yeah, we bitched. Man, did we bitch. You would, too, if you were high on lactic acid.
I felt wicked. A gaggle of eight children with me in the middle, all cussing like convicts for 30 odd seconds, then dashing for 45 seconds more, slowing to a crawl and letting loose again. I wish we had a video of it for that television show. We would have won the top prize. On the other hand, there would be some angry parents when millions saw their little Johnnie swearing on national TV. Remarkably, no one reported us. We were obnoxiously loud and the music we played during practice was louder, mostly Maroon 5, Daughtry and our favorite by Justin Timberlake, “What Goes Around … Comes Around.”
On Saturday, I’d race whatever sucker wanted to try and beat me. The prize was $20. Even with head starts, though, no one could touch me, least of all, freshmen. No one else tried. Racing for money was illegal, of course, but I never had to pay. It was good practice. Staying out of box traps, sprinting the last 200 meters to the finish and setting the pace when the race was slow, I tried to invent every situation imaginable and some that weren’t.
Could you tell? I was bored. But the daily dose of training proved therapeutic, keeping my mind off the chaos in my personal life for about 90 minutes. Also, I loved the limited socialization it provided since Melinda, Ralphie and my other friends were shunning me. Only my daughters came around to see me. My kids, my job and my running were all I had.
Copyright © 2012 by Chuck H. Wells/Ray Hochgesang