Come in second

Speaking of running....

By the time high school rolled around the teachers saw me run the mile in gym and recruited me for the cross-country team.

see the ribbon in my hair? Yeah, I was still a wild mustang, but people could get close now and brush my scraggly mane.

I was still running just to run.

highest finishing was 7th. usually, I placed in the teens. I was a good solid team member.

My senior year the next to the last race the coach came to me and said "I need you to come in second"

I nodded and buried my face in my letterman's jacket and tried to disappear.

That afternoon I came in second.

As I crossed the finish line, I saw a WHAT-THE-HELL look on coach's face.

Later I learned he meant second for the team.... not the whole race. bwhahahahaha.

Yup all they had to do for years was tell me where to be and I'd be there.

I was just running because it was fun.

...and I would sell my soul for one last run....sigh.

SWOOSH!!!

 In seventh grade I was invisible. Those who saw me were few. Those who knew me, were none.

I was not friendly. I was an island unto my self. I found a t-shirt at goodwill that read. 

Warning: I'm naked under my cloths

and that somehow seemed appropriate for me. I wore it a lot. 

Most people left me alone. 

Those who didn't wish they did.

We had free gym that particular day. Most of the class sat on the benches talking, a few of us were shooting hoops.

The teacher Mrs. Loomis called to those of out on the court with her whistle and motioned us to come in.

The other girls obediently followed and headed in. 

I paused and finally had the court to my self. I had been standing center court dribbling away from everyone else.

We locked eyes and she again motioned to come in.

I turned and sent the basketball flying towards the basket. Her eyes followed it's silent arch through the air.... through the hoop, nothing but net.

 swoosh

Her gaze returned to me. With a why-the-hell-aren't-you-on-my-basketball-team look on her face.

I bobbed my head like the wild mustang I was, my bangs flopping over my eyes as I galloped past her into the locker room.

If she ever tried to talk to me I was simply too shy, too damaged to respond.

I saw that same look again after the timed cross country run we did.

As I said I was a mustang. A free range shaggy haired untamable beast. 

She said go and off I went leaving everyone in my dust. I didn't run for time or place. I ran just to run.

And I ran fast as  f%^& boi. LOL.

I crossed the finish line and she wasn't there with her stopwatch.  As I cooled down and restlessly moved about wondering what to do. The anxiety started chewing on me.

Had I misunderstood where the finish line was? Was I in last place? Was I going to get into trouble?AAuugghh!!!  should I do another lap of the course? 

About that time Mrs. Loomis came out the door with her grade book under her arm and sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup, with the stopwatch dangling from her wrist.

She stopped dead and that basketball look came over her shocked face. "What are you doing here? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN HERE!?"

She set her coffee and grade book down and fumble to get the stopwatch and see the time.

She gave me a why-the-hell-aren't-you-on-my-track-team look...but by them others were coming across the finish line, and I had once again turned invisible and vanished into the crowd. 

Years and years later like TWENTY THREE or more later as I was working I saw her come in and she walked up to the desk and said "Hello Paja. How are you doing?"

Still shy, still a lunatic, still an untamed mustang. I nodded my head and replied "I'm good."

And like the basketball those years ago I turned and was gone with a swwooosh.