Relay

CHAPTER ONE: NOVEMBER “Sixty-four point eight.” Coach Bill Mallory read the time aloud from his stopwatch as the six athletes stood beyond the finish line, trying to catch their breath, exhaling puffs of white in the cold. Thanksgiving had come and gone. They were training for the indoor track season, but the first indoor meet was a month away. In the meantime, they had to bundle up and train outside. The six athletes walked around the first turn of the 400-meter oval track on the outside lanes. The walk became a slow jog that would bring them around to the starting line again for the next interval. The sun was already low in the gray sky. Ted Stewart was a fraction of an inch taller than the others in the group. His slender frame of six feet was covered by a sweatshirt and running tights, hiding the leg muscles developed from training under the tutelage of Coach Mallory at Green Ridge High. Stewart was once a sprinter, but he had learned all about difficult interval workouts ever since his coach had converted him to a half-miler almost two years before. That last 400 really hurt, thought Ted, and we still have seven to go. And the next ones are going to hurt even more. We’re not even halfway there. He quickly put such thoughts out of his mind. Experience taught him that a long-term outlook made sense before or after a workout, but intervals must be taken one at a time – especially in the early going. The sophomores were to blame for the early struggles. Standard operating procedure called for runners to take turns leading the intervals. Sophomores usually led the early ones while they were fresh. They were often enthusiastic and inexperienced in their pacing. Coach Mallory wanted the intervals at sixty-five seconds or better, but Schwartz had zipped through the first one in 62.1, and Park led the next one even faster at 61.8. The group quickly paid the price. Ted’s classmate Brad Hanson had just struggled on the third interval, and there was still a long way to go. Ted couldn’t really be mad at the sophomores. A year ago, he was the soph making the mistakes and learning from his older teammates. Jogging on the backstretch, his mind turned to a different issue: Who should lead the next interval? There were only three candidates. He moved alongside his pal Josh, and turned his head to ask the question. Josh, however, spoke first. “Don’t look at me,” he said, shaking his head. “Ask Tony. He’s the senior.” They both looked at Tony Mancini. Tony said nothing for a few moments, thinking it over. Finally, he spoke. “I’ll take the next one, guys,” was all he said. Tony was a senior, but had less experience with intervals than Ted or Josh. He had been a pole vaulter for a couple years at Green Ridge with middling success. Then as a junior, he went out for cross country in the fall to improve his conditioning, and he ended up winning the Most Improved Award. Tony quickly decided his future had more upside as a runner than as a vaulter, and continued to improve on the track and in cross country. As a senior, he had just spent the last couple of months serving as the critical fifth man on the cross country team. The group finished their jog around the track in silence. As they approached the starting line, they looked at Coach Mallory, who nodded. Mallory didn’t have his runners stop at the starting line for each interval. Interferes with the flow, he would say. Instead, the group jogged into the start and took off, with Tony in the lead, Ted and Josh right behind him, and Hanson and the sophs bringing up the rear, all of them running more or less on the inside lane in single file. Their legs were no longer fresh and already felt heavy coming out of the first turn. Then the wind hit them. Not a gentle summer breeze, but a nasty gust from the northwest, coming from Canada or the Artic. November was giving the runners a chilly preview of the winter months ahead. More gusts hit Tony head on. Ted and Josh tried to tuck in behind him, but caught their share of it anyway, as did the others. Tony carried on. He hit the 200-meter mark and headed into the far turn - where an interval leader earns his keep. Setting an early pace is one thing, but maintaining it through the entire interval is entirely another. Tony was up to the challenge this time around. Coming down the final meters, Ted thought the group was a shade quicker than the previous interval. Running the lap at about a sixty-five second pace meant that a tenth of a second equaled only a difference of about a couple of feet. An observer might think it difficult to determine such small gradations without a watch, but experienced runners can often sense it. Moments after crossing the finish line, Ted’s hunch was verified as Coach Mallory read 64.6 from his stopwatch, an improvement of two-tenths of a second. The six athletes began to walk and then jog another recovery lap before beginning another interval. The fourth interval had been physically the toughest yet, but Ted mentally felt a lift. They had reversed the trend and given themselves more leeway under 65 seconds. The question now was whether Josh or he should lead the next one. Midway through the jog he turned to Josh again, but this time, Ted got the first words out. “What’s the word?” “The word is that I should have shown some guts, and gone out for the bowling team,” replied Josh, “but since I’m here, I may as well do the next one.” Ted smiled at the comment. He had known his friend as long as he could remember, and Josh had a particular talent for making him smile, even in difficult circumstances.