Forever for a Year by B. T. Gottfred Page A

get to feel like a genius for turning your physical gifts and stubborn-ass determination into something special. Now I’ll get to take all the credit while you do all the work.” He did his grin thing, then said, “My first new rule for you. Start being nice to yourself. Got it?”
    I nodded again, though I didn’t really get it. How was I supposed to be nice to myself? It didn’t make any goddamn sense.
    He continued, “Todd’s All-State. Randy and Craig were All-Conference. Everyone else in the lead pack has run for years. When you try to stay with them from the start, you hurt your body and you hurt your spirit. Setting yourself up to fail. Because you are Mr. Pain. And I know you think if Conchita, a freshman and a girl, can stay with them, you should too, but that young lady has been winning races in her age group since she was nine. She knows more about running than the rest of us jokers combined. Yeah, that includes me. I’d let her coach if I didn’t need to pay for my kid to go to college. So rule two. Find runners at your level. Where it doesn’t hurt fifty meters in. Perhaps, just perhaps, where you even enjoy running for a short while. Got it?”
    I nodded.
    â€œYou fast?” he asked.
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œI know so. Even though I’ve never seen it because by the time you get done with the run, you’re so blasted, you can barely walk, let alone kick the finish. You’ve got long legs and a good stride and a lot of anger. All that will make you the best miler I’ve ever coached, but that’s track. This is a different beast. Oh yeah. Cross-country is five thousand meters. It requires strategy. Who beats you every practice?”
    â€œTodd and Randy—”
    â€œNo. Have you been listening? They don’t beat you because they are playing tennis while you’re playing Ping-Pong. Maybe someday you’ll be playing the same game. But you have to work your way there. Who beats you who’s running the same race?”
    â€œAaron and Tor,” I said, motioning toward the two sophomores that passed me at the end of Monday’s run and passed me sooner every practice since.
    â€œCloser. But still out of your league.”
    â€œEdward and Michael,” I said, pointing to the seniors that laughed at Pasquini. When they ran by me at the end of every run, Michael would say, “Crawling works too.”
    â€œExactly,” Coach said, then turned to the seniors, “Hey, you two, Mr. Pain here is going to run with you today.” They whispered into each other’s ears and laughed. At me? At Pasquini? I don’t know. Who cares? I cared. But who should care? No one. Pasquini leaned in close, really whispering this time. Only I could hear him. He said, “You stay on their heels. Don’t think about anything else. Find a rhythm. Linger. Wait. What do you want? You want to beat them. Right. I know you do. I can see it. But linger behind them. Keep them in sight. Which means, be okay with being behind. You don’t need to attack right away. Don’t need to feel pain right away. Just be there. And then, when you sense the right moment, you go get what you want. Got it?”
    â€œGot it,” I said.
    *   *   *
    I had been thinking about Carolina today. A lot, okay? She wore her hair in a ponytail, and as soon as I saw it in biology, all I wanted to do was run my hand through it. So cheesy. I know. And it didn’t matter. We sat on the other side of class from each other now. Because I didn’t like her. She didn’t like me. We had nothing in common.
    *   *   *
    It was hard letting Todd, Craig, Randy, and Conchita run off and not trying to stay with them. Really hard. Felt weak. Felt like a waste of space. But I let them go. Settled in behind Edward and Michael. Pasquini was right. Didn’t feel pain. Not the physical kind. But, man, was I bored.