Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Adam Blake - 11. Chapter 11
Summer was my time to relax only it wasn’t going to happen this summer. I plan on going home to visit my parents for a few weeks, stopping at Bill’s, and then back to school.
Mom and Dad were glad to see me, after the hugs and kisses from my mom, I had to tell them all about school and what I’ve been doing. Mom was especially proud when I told her I received my doctorate in education, she had tears in her eyes and Dad was all smiles. We talked late into the night, it was impossible for me to catch them up on everything that happened since the last time I was home. We made a dent, a small dent.
I phoned Bill, telling him I was home. He told me Billy was running in a tournament this weekend, I wanted to go and told him. When I told Dad, he wanted to go with me, and then Mom said she wanted to go as well. So Saturday morning, we all left to go and see Billy and his family. I told them since I met his son, I now call Billy Bill. “It was confusing calling them both Billy, so now I call him Bill and his son Billy.”
“I think Bill is appropriate for a grown man with a family.” I just smiled at Dad.”
“When we pulled into their driveway, Billy was there to meet me. He jumped into my arms and then pulled me into the house. We headed to his bedroom, and there were his trophies and ribbons. I looked at each one, shook my head, “I’m so proud of you Billy. Soon you’ll hang an Olympic Gold there. I look forward to seeing you run today.”
“And if I win?”
“You can come on vacation with me for 2 weeks if your dad and mom approve.”
“Oh, they’ll approve.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to see you but I was dragged here. No options offered, arrested and made to come here for an impressive showing of someone’s running skills.” We laughed as Billy hugged his dad.
We sat in the kitchen, drinking coffee and catching up. Billy sat on my lap until his dad reminded him he had a race to win. “Adam, can we run together while you’re here?”
“Sure how about tomorrow morning, if you aren’t tired.”
He just looked at me and smiled, “You’re on. Loser buys lunch.” I knew that would be me.
Bill and I drove Billy to the school where the race was scheduled. It was a 5-mile cross country race and I remember the flash when they visited me. Unless the competition was very good, this will be an easy win for Billy.
Bill and I watched as Billy went to the school’s locker to change into his running gear. “Ever since we came back from visiting you, he’s a changed kid. What did you do?”
“Nothing” He looked at me like I was crazy. “You were there, we ran and I helped with his warm-up, thinking about that why didn’t you help him with his warm-up. We always warmed up before our runs.”
“I wasn’t home as much and when he complained of muscle pains I thought they were growing pains. It wasn’t until he was with you did I realize that they weren’t growing pains but rather from not warming up before a race. I’ve been working with him ever since we came home. He’ll do his best today because you’re here.”
“And because of you also, Billy looks up to you I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. I may be his running coach but you are his idol.”
I saw the smile on Bill’s face. He was proud of Billy and it showed.
“We sat in the stands while we waited for the race to start. Mom and Dad arrived with Jennifer. “Where’s Scotty?” Scotty was Bill’s other son, he was seven.
“He’s at the neighbors. His best friend is his age and they play a lot together.”
I watched the boys getting ready. It was easy to pick out Billy, he waved to us. I watched his warm-up and compared it to the others. “Bill watched number 11, he’s going to try to give Billy a run for his money.”
“How can you tell?”
“The warmup, the other boys aren’t stretching the hamstrings enough. That’s going to slow them down about the 3-mile mark.”
“Billy waved as he took his position, the gun sounded and they were off. Billy just kept with the crowd, until the 3-mile mark, then we could see him stepping it up. True to my word several of the boys began to slow up as their hamstrings tightened. Watching a 5 mile run through field glasses wasn’t the same as watching it from the actual course.
At the 4 mile mark, Billy steps it up again. In a short time, he was second right behind the guy who used a similar warm-up. Then Billy turned it on, I nicknamed him flash, and he lived up to his name. He was neck to neck with the other runner until just about a 1/4 mile before the finishing line, he shot out and beat the other guy by at least 20 yards.
Running back to cool down, he smiled and waved when he saw us. “I was watching the kids you said would slow up. I’ll make it a point to stress to Billy the importance of warming up the hamstrings.”
“He did a good job, you have got to be proud.”
“You know I am, he runs like we use to run. I see so much of me in him. But he has passed me, I could never run like him.”
“I’m not sure about that. We didn’t run those mornings for speed but rather to stay in shape. We never tried to see how fast we could run. I’m sure if we ran for track, we would’ve been very good.”
“There’s our boy. That some trophy he’s holding.”
“Listen to what he says.”
“Thanks for the trophy. This was a great race and the competition was hard. Steven had me until I got my third win and just beat him to the finish line by a few seconds. He should get a trophy as well for a great race. This trophy belongs to my school representing a great running team and a terrific coach. Thanks.”
“He doesn’t keep the trophy. He said this is a school-sponsored sport and like all school-sponsored sports, trophies are the property of the school to encourage other students to try out for sports.”
“Let’s go and meet him. I want to congratulate him on a fine run.”
- 37
- 21
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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