Lenny

By Gary Hoover

(This is a work of fiction)

Lenny stood at the starting line with the other three hundred or so participants for the St. Clair County 10K race. It was about twenty-five minutes after seven as he looked out at the sea of people that had gathered to watch, run, or volunteer for the race.

It was a clear and pleasant morning with the temperature somewhere in the mid-sixties. The warming sun was rising slowly from the east greeting the new day that promised to contain agony, glory, and redemption for those who had come to run.

Lenny wondered about the faces that he saw. Some people had stern looks of concentration. He figured them to be the serious runners visioning the various turns and bends of the coming race. Some people joked with each other about who would be last and how they wished they had actually done at least a minimum amount of training.

He knew none of the people there. In fact, he had never been to this side of St. Louis before. He wished that he were apart of the community of runners that had gathered. It was clear that many people knew each other from previous races or perhaps from the neighborhood. He wondered if it showed on his face that this was his first race of any sort. He had only taken up running three months earlier. There was a bond among these people. A knowing that was not expressed with words. It was the kindred feeling from having endured a race.

He had been sick most of the fall and winter and had seen various doctors about his condition. It had left him weak and lethargic. It was only in February that he had recovered enough to do anything. He then decided that he would seek out some type of physical activity. It was during one of his trips to the local YMCA that he saw the notice for this race. A ten thousand kilometer run. He later learned that this was a race of approximately 6.2 miles. He promised that if his health held out he would run and finish this race. And here he was at the starting line.

Lenny wasn’t the only African American there but if he tried, he was sure that he could count them all with one hand. It didn’t matter. He wanted to run. To test himself. To measure himself against himself. Even if all the other people in the race were to suddenly disappear… he would run.

It didn’t matter that he was nearly thirty years old and had never participated in any type of physical contest. No pee-wee football or Little League Baseball. He had preferred the quiet of the library. He never really thought much about physical appearance, health, or exercise. He had always been tall and lanky. Since there were never any weight issues for him to deal with, he never really cared. It was only after his illness that he became more conscious of his body and set himself to do something of this sort.

There were almost as many well-wishers and spectators as there were actual participants. There was the occasional flash as someone snapped a photo of a loved one. To his surprise it was hard to tell a racer from a non racer. Some runners were old and some young. Some looked to be grossly out of shape with folds of extra flesh squeezed into Spandex. Some people looked lean and toned in multi-colored shirts and small runners shorts. These people had all gathered for the same purpose…to go the entire distance and accomplish their personal goals.

The race coordinator came to address the anxious runners. Lenny assumed that the large lady who looked to be in her mid forties with darkish brown hair must have been in charge since she carried the bullhorn and had been scurrying around handling details since his arrival over an hour ago.

“If I could have your attention please..” said the lady as she adjusted the volume control on the bullhorn to remove the squelch that caused some to jump with a fright. “We are so glad that you are all here! This is the largest number of runners that we have ever had in the 5 years of this race.”

There were some hoots and whistles from the crowd.

“I hope you’ve all had a chance to look at the map to see the course. If not, there will be volunteers to direct you at every turn and two water stations. Please be careful and stay on one side of the street. Are there any questions?”

A guy in the back asked if there would be any beer at the water stations which immediately caused a roar of laughter from the crowd.

Lenny thought that there would be more to it than that. But the coordinator had nothing else to say. She simply stepped on the curb leaving the runners in the street. She signaled to the two motorcycle policemen that were there to protect the runners. They revved up the engines and signaled back. After that she yelled “On your mark…get set…go!”

Heads bobbed as the runners started to move slowly in a great mass of yellows, greens, and blues. Lenny had thought long about what the race start would be like but he still felt exhilarated as he moved with baby steps with the crowd. After traveling about a hundred yards people started to pass him. It was clear that he was moving too slowly and people were jockeying to get around. Something to note for the next race: start further in the back.

Some people laughed as they ran. Some snorted and made other strange noises. A young blonde girl with a squared chin and gray eyes adjusted the volume on her headset as she ran along side Lenny. She smiled up at the tall black man that ran awkwardly with cheap running shoes that would surely give him feet problems if not replaced.

Lenny thought about all the mornings spent in training for the race. If he could just do now what he had done then he would be okay. He had asked no one for advise about training techniques or to run with him. Most people would have been concerned that he was running at all. He had been dreadfully ill and stressing himself during a period of remission would not be advised. So he ran by himself without companionship or instruction.

He knew that this would be the farthest that he had ever run in his life. During his training he had managed to work himself up to about five miles but felt that if he were compelled to, that he could go on. He had not bothered to time himself because he didn’t really care. He just wanted to finish. At least this time. Maybe at another race he would buy himself a sports-watch like many of the other runners that would constantly glance to their wrists to check their pace.

He couldn’t say that at any point during the runs that had led up to the race that he had experienced a ‘runners high.’ In fact, he felt that he had only encountered a ‘runners low’ if such a thing were possible. It was hard to explain what exactly it was that made him carry on. He just knew that he wanted to do it.

Up ahead he could see the first turn and just as the large race coordinator had promised there was a teenager there directing people to go right. Lenny wondered why it was necessary to have him there. One only had to watch the stream of people in front turning to know that this was where the first turn occurred. He dutifully turned and listened as some runners thanked the boy for his assistance. Another note: thank volunteers.

It was at the first mile marker that Lenny thought that he might be in trouble. His breathing was labored and he thought that he felt a twinge in his left calf. The volunteer at the first mile marker was yelling out times as the runners crossed.

“…nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, ten twenty-two, twenty-three…”

Lenny tried to fix his mind to calculate how long it would take him to finish if he could maintain his current pace. He found that he was rather disappointed with the time. He had never bothered to time himself but was sure that he had been moving faster than ten minutes a mile. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

Still he continued on. Lenny thought about the first morning that he set out to run. It was a cold February morning and he hadn’t thought to wear gloves or insulate himself properly. It didn’t really matter that day because he was only outside for ten minutes or so. He couldn’t finish a complete mile. At least he couldn’t finish a mile running. He retreated back to his apartment and the warmth. But he was not deterred. He would remember to wear gloves and a thick sweat shirt the next time he set out.

How long ago that seemed now. He could certainly run a mile now. Not fast but it was a mile. He wondered would he even have considered running at all if it weren’t for this race. Would he have gotten up at six in the morning to face the chilly Missouri winds if it weren’t for the fact that he was preparing to run the race? He couldn’t say.

Pain brought Lenny out of his pondering. That was unfortunate. He had found that daydreaming made the runs much more manageable then thinking about the pain that would creep into his shoulder-blades and calves. This time it was the bothersome left calf again. He had stretched it before the race but probably not as thoroughly as he should have or even could have. The nervous energy before the race made him feel as if no pain would last and he would be fine.

He stopped and sat on the curb not more than three hundred yards from the second mile marker. He massaged his calf and smiled as people ran past. By his estimation, three quarters of the runners were ahead of him. Although, he wasn’t racing against anyone, he didn’t want to be last.

“Do you need some help?” asked a man on a bicycle that had materialized out of nowhere and surprised Lenny.

“No thanks. I’ve just got a cramp. It’ll work itself out,” said Lenny with a smile. Lenny was thankful that the man appeared so quickly. It reassured him that if he got into some serious trouble there would be someone to take care of him.

He got up and started to run again. Although the calf still stung, it wasn’t as bad as it had been previously. He had experienced this before and knew that it would sting the rest of the race but he would be able to finish.

Mile two. He was there in twenty-two minutes. Lenny thought that this was pretty good considering that he had to stop. He wasn’t going to break any records but he probably wasn’t going to be last either.

It was after the second mile that Lenny really noticed his surrounding. This part of the county was undeveloped with open fields and forests. It was rather pretty. In some of the low lying areas there were still pockets of morning fog not yet burned away by the sun. It was just the beginning of a spring that was welcomed after a bitterly cold and raw winter.

Lenny saw that he was gaining on a woman running in front of him. Having never run in a race or even run with someone else he never thought that he could actually catch up to someone else. It just never crossed his mind. For a while he ran behind her. He was too shy to pass. What if he had to rest again and she ran past him? Would she think that he was trying to show off?

She slowed as they both approached the first water station. The woman took a cup from the hands of a smiling and very encouraging volunteer and walked as she drank. Lenny did the same. The woman noticed him and smiled.

“So you’re the one running behind me, huh?” asked the woman. Her face said that she was probably in her fifties but she had a fit body that made her look younger.

“Is that against the rules or rude?” asked Lenny as he gulped down the last of the water and tossed the cup to the side as he had seen the lady do. “I’ve never run one of these before.”

“No,” said the lady smiling as she and Lenny ran together. “I’d just rather someone ran with me than behind me.”

“Okay. I can do that,” said Lenny.

They didn’t talk much after that. Both in there own worlds. As they made yet another right turn they faced a hill that went up for at least a half a mile. It was Lenny’s estimation that it was a half mile because he could see the mile marker for the third mile at the top.

Quietly they began to climb. The pain returned to the calf as his breathing became more and more labored. In all of his training, he had not encountered such a big hill. At some point Lenny decided to stop and walk. He stopped but the lady turned and encouraged him to continue. It was clear that she too wanted to stop and walk but would use Lenny as encouragement if he would do the same for her. He started again and together the two grunted and groaned to the top.

At the third mile marker stood another teenager who was smiling and clapping as he informed the two that they had gone three miles in thirty four minutes and fifteen seconds.

“You guys did an awesome job on that hill! Keep it up!” said the boy.

“Thanks,” was all Lenny was able to muster as he gasped for air and trudged on with his new best friend.

Somehow Lenny didn’t feel ashamed by the fact that he couldn’t run faster than a woman twenty years older. It just didn’t seem to matter. He was glad she was there and she seemed to enjoy having him also. They didn’t speak. Fatigue and weariness saw to that. The only sound to be heard were the foot falls of running shoes hitting the pavement and the occasional deep breath.

At some point Lenny realized that they must have crossed the half way point. There was no marker to let runners know. He smiled to himself. He looked back to see others cresting the hill and the boy clapping and encouraging them as he had done when Lenny and the lady crossed. Running brings out some of the better qualities in people thought Lenny.

The lady who hadn’t said anything since they started up the hill managed to say, “The leaders have already crossed the finish line.”

Lenny thought about that. How fast must they have been running to have completed the race so quickly? Those people didn’t have to worry about being challenged by him. He wondered if the girl with the squared chin had finished yet. What about the man with the strong legs and watches on both wrists?

They ran on and approached the forth mile marker. Lenny still felt the slight sting of pain that shot from his calf periodically. It was more of a nuisance now than actual debilitating pain.

There was no volunteer at the fourth mile marker. A large poster sat on the side of the road where an orange line had been spray painted on the pavement to mark the distance. Lenny looked back again to note that the people that were behind them hadn’t closed in any further. He couldn’t be sure but it appeared that the gap between them had increased.

The lady informed him that by her watch, it had taken them forty-four minutes and ten seconds to cover the four miles. Lenny wanted to calculate how fast they had run the last mile but he couldn’t remember the time. In fact, he couldn’t remember any of the times. How strange he thought that was. He had nothing else to think about except the race but he couldn’t seem to focus in on it. That might be why people wore those sports watches, he thought, to keep track of the miles.

He thought of his feelings. He couldn’t honestly say that he felt good running. The pain and discomfort were pressing. He couldn’t say that he didn’t notice the race going on around him. He could say that despite everything he was glad that he had the strength to do it.

“Going to… pick it up… just a bit,” gasped the woman as they stopped for water at the last water station. She had surmised that they had gone about four and a half miles. Lenny had no reply. He felt that he was doing all that he could. He was approaching what he considered the point of no return. He had never gone more than five miles and it wouldn’t be long before he reached that point. What if he sped up only to find that he didn’t have enough energy to finish? It would be crushing to have come so far and then not been able to press on.

The water was cool to his throat. It helped to revitalize him for the last stretch of a incredible trip that hadn’t begun with the race that morning but back in the cold of a winter day when be began on this journey. He asked for another cup from a pleasant looking man with a round face and freckles. It had gotten warmer since the start of the race or maybe he had heated up from the exertion of the race. He poured a bit on his head. He had seen others do the same and felt shivers as the cool liquid ran down his face and neck.

His running partner had already left. She was no more than forty feet ahead of him but he somehow felt sad. Like he would never be able to talk with her or run with her again. He could surely catch up with her if he wanted to but he knew that it was time to go the rest of it alone.

Ahead loomed another hill. Not nearly as severe as the one that he had traversed earlier but still intimidating. This time he had no smiling and encouraging face to help motivate him to the top. He would have to do it on his own. By now the lady was more than a hundred feet ahead of him and leaning forward as she struggled to make it up the hill. Her arms swung although it wasn’t clear whether she was just fast walking or running at a very slow pace.

Lenny vowed that he would not walk. It would be rough and he may need to go as slow as possible but he would not walk. He ran on the yellow line on the pavement that separated the shoulder of the road from the driving lane. His calf once again ached but to this he felt the pain of his right shoulder and the front of his right leg. He winced and gasped as he trudged on up the hill. He couldn’t look up anymore. He hung his head looking in front of him just enough to see where he was going.

It felt as if there were someone behind him trying to pull him back down the hill. He dare not stop for fear that he would roll backward down the hill. Onward he pressed. Finally he crested the hill and tried to recover with deep breathes. His recovery was slow and he felt as if he had been running with a plastic bag over his head.

He hadn’t walked but at that moment there was no glory in his accomplishment. All he wanted was more air in his lungs. He slowed to walk to help in his recovery process. He looked up and saw his friend moving on down the road. Not too fast. Steady in her movements. There didn’t appear to be much wasted motion as she methodically moved down the street. He guessed that she must have been a good quarter of a mile ahead of him by then.

“Almost there now!” shouted a small child that stood with her mother at the five mile marker. She put out her hand for a high-five as Lenny ran past. He slapped the child’s hand as he shuffled on.

She must not have recognized that he was no athlete like those running ahead. It made him feel strange, however. This child saw all the runners as the same. The fast ones and the slow ones. The old and the young. The well-trained as well as the un-trained. Lenny thought about it. He was a doer. Not just a spectator. He was involved and making his own way despite the slowness of his pace. He had gotten involved. It made him feel alive. When he had been in the hospital that winter he never imagined that the body that had been neglected for years could be used to bring him pride. After all, he had no physical talent. A chest of a bird. A body more suited for video game running than the actual thing. But here he was.

He wondered about his time. He had been so enamored with the little girl that he didn’t hear the time that the mother was calling out. It was then that a small amount of fear gripped him. He was, with every step, going further than he had ever gone in his life. Would he be able to finish? The pain of breathing had subsided but he still had the host of nagging spikes from his calf, shoulder, and thigh.

One last turn on to the busy street he had driven earlier that morning as he found his way to the community center that would host the run. He had gathered his nerve to get out of the car and go to the registration desk to pick up his race packet. Inside a small plastic bag were some safety pins, a bib with the number 1080 on the front, a few fliers for coming races, and a T-shirt marking the fifth running of the this race. He had watched as others put on their bibs to figure out how they were supposed to be displayed on the front of his own T-shirt.

As he ran, he looked down at the bib. It flapped as he made his way but stayed where it had been pinned. His shirt had been soaked with sweat from running and sagged but the bib stayed secured.

He ran on. On a few occasions he thought he should be making the turn into the parking lot of the community center only to realize that the entrance was further down. He could begin to hear people laughing, yelling, and cajoling others on.

There it was! The last turn that would take him into the parking lot and to the finish line. Instinctively, his pace quickened. He could clearly make out voices now.

“ Push it!… Two hundred yards!…Great job!” yelled the faces. Lenny could not distinguish one face from the other. They were just a blur as he concentrated on the finish line. He noticed the clock. It flashed one hour, seven minutes and ticking seconds. With what little energy he had left he sprinted for the finish line.

Despite himself, he smiled as he covered the last fifty feet to the finish. Crossing in triumph, he threw his hands up as he crossed. He was greeted by yet another volunteer that tore off the bottom portion of his bib to record his official time. It was unnecessary since running and finishing was all that mattered for him.

He was directed to an area of goodies to help the runners recover. There were tables with sports drinks and bagels. He found containers filled with water bottles and yet other tables with doughnuts and sweets. He ate several oranges and drank sports drinks.

As if compelled, he walked back over to the finish line. He found himself clapping and cheering on others as they crossed the line. What he saw in the eyes of these finishers was the same thing that he himself had felt. A sense of accomplishment and exhaustion. Lenny guessed that even those who had finished the race in the front, had that same look of satisfaction. It was that sense of accomplishment combined with total effort that bonded these people together despite the time of finishing. He finally felt like he belonged. He had done what some people would talk about but never actually achieve. To meet a goal set by himself for himself.

As he cheered and clapped for the last few runners he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the woman that had run with him smiling.

“You got me through,” she said as she hugged him. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know him. They had some how become friends through adversity.

“No way. I would have never made it up that first hill without you,” said Lenny as he hugged her back.

“Are you staying for the awards ceremony?” asked the lady.

“No. I think I had better get on home,” replied Lenny.

“Okay. See you at the next race,” said the lady as she went off to find a spot to watch as those in the elite class received trophies for their efforts.

Maybe he didn’t know anyone there but if he kept running it wouldn’t be long before he would make many new friends. Running seems to do that to people, he thought.

He got into his car, still sweaty from the race, with his bib on. There were no friends to congratulate him on his “victory” but it really didn’t matter. He had made it and that’s all that mattered.Lenny never did get to run another race. His cancer returned and he died later that summer. Some speculated that the stress of that race overwhelmed an already weakened system. Some said that he knew he was going to die, anyway, and wanted to do this one race before. Lenny never said much either way. When others talked about the race he would only smile.