Breathe, Annie, Breathe
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On wobbly legs, I hobbled toward my car, passing the new football coach, who was setting up little orange cones for drills. Guys at school were still cursing the Sports Gods because the school board had hired a woman to coach football, and the girls wouldn’t stop talking about how hot her boyfriend was—we had all sneaked a peek at the picture of him on her desk, but that’s not what I was thinking as I passed Coach Woods.
She must’ve seen me horribly running those two laps. She knew how pathetic I was, that I would never be a runner. That I could never finish what my boyfriend had started.
I turned the ignition, my engine rumbling and groaning to a start, and got the hell out of there before anyone else saw me. After that first run, I didn’t expect to go back. But I couldn’t stop thinking that Kyle needed me to finish it for him.
The next Saturday, I went to the school track even earlier—the sun was barely up—so I could run without anyone else around. And Coach Woods was already there doing sprints and exercises of her own!
Up and down the fifty-yard line, she did high kicks and lunges and sprints. She waved at me, and I started running horribly again—like an ape in a zoo, flailing my arms and legs.
I finished two and a half laps, then knelt on the grass, wheezing, working to keep the tears from falling. And Coach Woods sat down beside me, tossing a football to herself. She was my health class teacher, but we hadn’t talked much, at least not about anything except the usual mortifying health class topics—safe sex and bodily changes and the importance of flossing.
“Are you trying out for the track team next week?” she asked.
“No…”
“Then what are you doing out here?” She looked me straight in the eye, and I kind of hated her for that. I didn’t want anyone to know I was attempting to run, especially not the best athlete our school’s ever seen. Coach Woods used to play football here when she was my age. Unless you count chicken fighting in a pool or beer pong, I had never played sports. If people knew I was training to finish the marathon on Kyle’s behalf and I ended up failing miserably, I would feel more lost than I already did.
“I’m not a bad runner,” Coach Woods said. “Well, I used to be a lot better than I am now, but I still know the basics. Can I help?”
She stared at me expectantly until I admitted, “I’m training for a marathon, okay?”
“Okay.” We sat in silence. I counted as she tossed the football up and down, up and down, twelve times. I waited for her to laugh in my face. But she didn’t. She stood up with the ball, launched it down the field, and we watched as it bounced to a stop beside the goal post.
She nodded once at me. “I’m not sure I could ever run a marathon. That’s a big commitment, and I have no idea how to train for one… But one of my friends might be able to help you.”
•••
26.2 miles.
That’s longer than the drive to Nashville.
Kyle would’ve been upset if he’d known how I spent most of my senior year: eating lunch alone, wearing his flannel shirt to sleep every night while I cried, watching movies alone at the drive-in. I wanted to do something that would make him proud. Something to honor who he was.
I told Coach Woods, “I want to run the Country Music Marathon in October.”
She knew a guy who trained people to run marathons and triathlons and any kind of race, really. Matt’s program isn’t cheap. I picked up more waitressing hours at the Roadhouse, so I could pay for my training, the entrance fee for the October marathon, new sneakers, a watch, athletic clothes, and the water-hydration device that could double as a bong.
And here I am, running every Saturday morning.
Running for him.
Marathon Training Schedule~Brown’s Race Co.
Name Annie Winters
Saturday
Distance
Notes
April 20
3 miles
I’m really doing this! Finish time 34:00
April 27
5 miles
Stupid Running Backwords Boy!!
May 4
6 miles
May 11
5 miles
May 18
7 miles
May 25
8 miles
June 1
10 miles
June 8
9 miles
June 15
7 miles
June 22
8 miles
June 29
9 miles
July 6
10 miles
July 13
12 miles
July 20
13 miles
July 27
15 miles
August 3
14 miles
August 10
11 miles
August 17
16 miles
She must’ve seen me horribly running those two laps. She knew how pathetic I was, that I would never be a runner. That I could never finish what my boyfriend had started.
I turned the ignition, my engine rumbling and groaning to a start, and got the hell out of there before anyone else saw me. After that first run, I didn’t expect to go back. But I couldn’t stop thinking that Kyle needed me to finish it for him.
The next Saturday, I went to the school track even earlier—the sun was barely up—so I could run without anyone else around. And Coach Woods was already there doing sprints and exercises of her own!
Up and down the fifty-yard line, she did high kicks and lunges and sprints. She waved at me, and I started running horribly again—like an ape in a zoo, flailing my arms and legs.
I finished two and a half laps, then knelt on the grass, wheezing, working to keep the tears from falling. And Coach Woods sat down beside me, tossing a football to herself. She was my health class teacher, but we hadn’t talked much, at least not about anything except the usual mortifying health class topics—safe sex and bodily changes and the importance of flossing.
“Are you trying out for the track team next week?” she asked.
“No…”
“Then what are you doing out here?” She looked me straight in the eye, and I kind of hated her for that. I didn’t want anyone to know I was attempting to run, especially not the best athlete our school’s ever seen. Coach Woods used to play football here when she was my age. Unless you count chicken fighting in a pool or beer pong, I had never played sports. If people knew I was training to finish the marathon on Kyle’s behalf and I ended up failing miserably, I would feel more lost than I already did.
“I’m not a bad runner,” Coach Woods said. “Well, I used to be a lot better than I am now, but I still know the basics. Can I help?”
She stared at me expectantly until I admitted, “I’m training for a marathon, okay?”
“Okay.” We sat in silence. I counted as she tossed the football up and down, up and down, twelve times. I waited for her to laugh in my face. But she didn’t. She stood up with the ball, launched it down the field, and we watched as it bounced to a stop beside the goal post.
She nodded once at me. “I’m not sure I could ever run a marathon. That’s a big commitment, and I have no idea how to train for one… But one of my friends might be able to help you.”
•••
26.2 miles.
That’s longer than the drive to Nashville.
Kyle would’ve been upset if he’d known how I spent most of my senior year: eating lunch alone, wearing his flannel shirt to sleep every night while I cried, watching movies alone at the drive-in. I wanted to do something that would make him proud. Something to honor who he was.
I told Coach Woods, “I want to run the Country Music Marathon in October.”
She knew a guy who trained people to run marathons and triathlons and any kind of race, really. Matt’s program isn’t cheap. I picked up more waitressing hours at the Roadhouse, so I could pay for my training, the entrance fee for the October marathon, new sneakers, a watch, athletic clothes, and the water-hydration device that could double as a bong.
And here I am, running every Saturday morning.
Running for him.
Marathon Training Schedule~Brown’s Race Co.
Name Annie Winters
Saturday
Distance
Notes
April 20
3 miles
I’m really doing this! Finish time 34:00
April 27
5 miles
Stupid Running Backwords Boy!!
May 4
6 miles
May 11
5 miles
May 18
7 miles
May 25
8 miles
June 1
10 miles
June 8
9 miles
June 15
7 miles
June 22
8 miles
June 29
9 miles
July 6
10 miles
July 13
12 miles
July 20
13 miles
July 27
15 miles
August 3
14 miles
August 10
11 miles
August 17
16 miles
