Eyes on the Prize

by Sunni Jeffers

  Jane got out her list. Three of their guests were entered in the Harvest 10K Run plus the two helpers. That left only two guests for regular breakfast. With the race in town, she’d planned conservative, health-conscious meals. She prepared batter for stone-ground corn waffles that Louise and Alice could toast in the morning. As the waffles cooked, she made piecrusts for broccoli-and-cheese quiches. She made an extra quiche for dinner and had just put everything in the oven when the bell rang at the reception desk. She started to remove her apron, then heard Louise’s voice in the hallway. She couldn’t help hearing Carrie’s voice also.

  “I won’t be eating breakfast here,” she told Louise. “I need to be out early to help with setting up.”

  “Jane is serving an early breakfast for runners and helpers,” Louise told her.

  “That’s all right. I carry special food with me.”

  Jane heard footsteps running up the stairs. The kitchen door opened and Louise came in.

  “One less for breakfast,” she said.

  “I know. I heard. She carries special food. Well, she doesn’t know what she’ll be missing. I have a great breakfast planned for the runners. Her loss.” Jane hated the negativity she heard in her own voice. She hated the knot that she felt in the vicinity of her heart. She gave Louise a pained look, trying to communicate her regret.

  “It’s all right,” Louise said. “Treat her with kindness and respect, and let it go.”

  Jane nodded. Let it go, she thought. How can I? I’m behaving like the self-centered person I accuse her of being. Lord help me get over this judgmental attitude I have toward Carrie. She probably has a good reason for carrying her own food. It’s not a reflection on me. She doesn’t even know me. Amen.

  Jane was up and dressed for the race before she put out breakfast for the early birds. She set a platter of fresh cut fruit and a basket of whole-grain bran muffins on the table when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She looked out into the hall and saw Carrie.

  “Good morning,” she called out. Carrie turned.

  “Good morning. Are you in the mood to race?”

  “I am. I just put out some fresh fruit and bran muffins, if you’d like some. I have homemade granola as well.”

  Carrie looked inside the dining room. She was dressed in a royal blue outfit with racing stripes down the sides of her shorts and a matching top and jacket. She gave Jane a friendly smile. “Looks good, but I have a power bar. That’s my usual breakfast. Gives me just the right mix of carbs and fiber, and it’s low fat, you know. Maybe I’ll take some fruit.” She put several slices of apple and some dried cranberries in a napkin. “Gotta run.” She laughed at her own pun. “See you in a while.” She took off, walking quickly down the hall and out the front door.

  The sun was up and there wasn’t a cloud or wisp of mist in the air. It promised to be warmer than usual. Jane preferred it cool for running, but she couldn’t complain. After a week of cold nights, the glorious autumn colors were popping out in force. The race was to start at nine o’clock, so she had plenty of time.

  The two organizers who worked with Carrie came in. They greeted Jane, then sat down and ate quickly.

  “This is wonderful,” one of them said as Jane poured coffee for them. “We don’t usually get such a great breakfast. May we take a muffin with us?”

  “Of course. I’ll wrap them in plastic for you. Would you like to take coffee with you?

  “Oh yes. That would be wonderful,” one of them said.

  Jane went to the kitchen, wrapped the muffins, filled to-go cups with coffee and put lids on them. Then she gathered up the items and took them to the women. They thanked her and hurried off with their food to set up for the race.

  A man who looked about forty came downstairs, dressed in black spandex running shorts and a long mesh T-shirt. His running shoes looked expensive. Jane had seen the man and his wife come in. The woman looked athletic, but obviously pregnant.

  “Good morning. Joy is sleeping in. She’s tired a lot lately.” He glanced at Jane. “I see you’re dressed to run. Do you compete often?” He sat down and started filling his plate with small portions of everything.

  “No. This is my first road race. I ran in high school, but that was a long time ago,” Jane said. In her mismatched modest outfit with inexpensive running shoes, she hardly looked like a habitual runner.

  “Well, good luck. My wife and I run marathons, but we may have to curtail that for a while, although we’re looking for racing strollers now.”

  “Fresh air is good for everyone,” Jane said, not sure what else to say.

  “Yes. Joy can’t wait to get back to running.”

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No thanks. Not before I run. Joy is off caffeine too.”

  “I have decaf or tea,” Jane said.

  “Water is fine.” He took a long drink to prove it.

  “I’ll let you eat then. Holler if you need anything. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  He’d left by the time Tory and her mother came downstairs. Jane glanced at her watch. There wasn’t much time before they needed to check in for the race.

  “I’ll just have a small bite now with Tory. I’ll come back for breakfast after she checks in.”

  They both filled their plates with fruit. Tory spread peanut butter on an apple slice and ate a handful of granola.

  “Now watch what you eat,” her mother admonished.

  “I know, Mom,” Tory said. “I have to have enough energy to make it through the race.”

  “All right, dear.” She turned to Jane. “I’d love coffee, thank you. Do you have hazelnut creamer?”

  “Yes.” Jane handed her a small cream pitcher. “This one is hazelnut.”

  Tory reached for a muffin. Jane had chosen them especially for the runners’ breakfast. They were Clarissa’s heart-healthy muffins with oat bran, wheat bran, pineapple and raisins. They provided plenty of carbohydrates and protein.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you?” Jane asked.

  “No, thank you. We need to go,” the mother said, looking at her watch. “Come on, Tory.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Tory stood, leaving the muffin untouched.

  “Let me get a paper plate for you,” Jane said.

  “No, thanks. I’ve had enough,” Tory said. She grabbed half a banana and followed her mother out of the room.

  Jane carried their plates to the kitchen. Alice had taken the quiches out of the refrigerator. Louise was stirring a pan of long-cooking oatmeal.

  “Isn’t it time for you to leave?” Alice asked.

  “Yes. I’m just about ready.” Jane removed her apron.

  “We’ll be praying for you,” Louise said. “Just remember, reach for the prize.”

  Alice gave them a quizzical look. “Yes, we’ll be praying,” she said. “If we can get the guests fed in time, we’ll meet you at the finish line.”

  “Thanks.” Jane gave them a smile, then went out the back door and jogged toward downtown.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The parking lot behind Town Hall was packed with people. Most looked like runners. Jane signed in. They gave her a bright yellow bib with the number 153 on it. Judging by the line behind her, she thought the entries might hit two hundred.

  The sun was already getting hot. Jane was glad she’d left her warm-up jacket at home. Several of the runners were shedding theirs and leaving them in a pile at the registration table.

  She put on her number bib, then looked around for Eleanor. She didn’t see her anywhere. The coach was still fighting her way back from bronchitis.

  Vera waved to Jane. Sylvia Songer came over and wished her luck.

  “Are you running?” Jane asked her.

  “Not in the race. I’m running a sale today. Some store-owners got together and we decided we’d put out some sidewalk sales. Look at all these people,” she said, smiling. “I’m expecting a record number of shoppers today.”

  “I hope you have a gr
eat sale.”

  “Thanks. See you tomorrow at church,” Sylvia said.

  Jane saw Tory with her mother. They were talking to Patsy Ley, who had come to watch. Over by the registration table, Lloyd was talking with the registration ladies from the inn. He was dressed in his official mayoral outfit, with sports coat and bow tie. He looked a little out of place among the shorts-and-spandex-clad crowd. Ethel was standing behind him, holding on to his arm. Jane thought she looked chic in a lavender knit warm-up suit that appeared quite stylish with her carefully curled and sprayed red hair.

  Runners began stretching out in earnest. Jane looked at her watch. They had twenty minutes before the race would start. She walked around in a little circle, shaking her legs out, loosening up. She went through her normal routine of stretches, and felt as ready as she could be. Glancing up, she looked right into Carrie’s eyes, ten yards in front of her.

  “Watching you, I feel like I’m seventeen again,” Carrie said.

  At that moment, Jane felt sixteen and squaring off against her toughest competitor. This was it. Today she was going to beat Carrie Gleason. She nodded at Carrie, silently challenging her. Carrie smiled. Challenge accepted.

  “Will all runners get ready to report to the starting line,” Lloyd called over a loud speaker. “Five minutes to the start.”

  Shaking out her arms and legs, Jane moved toward the starting line. The street had been cordoned off, blocking all vehicular traffic. She found a place near the front. There were perhaps twenty people ahead of her. Looking over to her right, she saw Carrie take a place just even with hers.

  Tory was right in front of the crowd next to several teenagers from the high school track team. They were calling to someone. Jane looked over. Eleanor Renda stood on the sidewalk in front of the antique shop. She was waving at the teens. She saw Jane and raised both hands, pointing her thumbs high. Jane returned the gesture. On the other side of the street, Lloyd and Ethel stood on a platform with three race officials. Ethel waved to her.

  Jane took a deep breath. This was her race, but she wasn’t alone. She wondered who was there for Carrie. She’d stayed alone at the inn. Jane hadn’t seen her with anyone. Somehow, that seemed a little sad.

  “Ready runners?” Lloyd said over the speaker.

  A resounding “yes” rose from the crowd.

  “Go at the sound of the shot. Ten … nine …” Lloyd counted down the seconds. The starting gun went off. Jane surged forward with the crowd, elbow to elbow, getting jostled, taking care not to trip over nearby feet. They ran down Hill Street to Village Road, then turned right to make a big circuit through town.

  This was the easy part, level and paved. The mass of runners stretched out. Jane saw teenagers and a few younger men and women ahead of her, but she seemed to be in the lead of those her age. Tory was near the front. The girl was fast. Jane didn’t see Carrie. She didn’t dare look back. She set her pace, knowing she had six miles to go, and the hills were still to come.

  All along the way, friends cheered her on. The course rounded Chapel Road and then headed north past the Fire Department and the Cat Rescue Shelter. Hearing her name shouted from the crowd of spectators gave Jane a spurt of energy. Her legs stretched out with each stride. She passed the pharmacy and Fred’s Hardware. Fred and Vera were shouting her name. “Go Jane! Go Jane!” Her feet pounded in time with her name. She felt energized, euphoric.

  Passing the inn, she saw Alice and Louise standing on the front porch waving and calling out encouragement. The Leys and the pregnant guest were with them. On the hill, she poured on the power as if Eleanor were next to her, racing her. The wind blew wisps of hair back off her forehead. The faster her feet went, the quicker her ponytail flipped back and forth.

  The course left the road and headed toward Fairy Pond. Here the mass of runners funneled into a path too narrow for a crowd. Jane got by several runners, then fell into line, settling in with the general pace. The midmorning sun shone through the trees, casting the runners’ shadows onto the pond. Jane caught her reflection, along with the others, a line of carousel horses, up and down, up and down in alternating order. Then they were past, sprinting down the path through the trees, then breaking out into the sunshine, running along the road past fields of cut hay. The bright sunshine caused Jane to raise her arm and wipe the moisture off her forehead.

  Eventually, Bellwood Farm came into view. Carol and Sissy Matthews were handing out cups of water along with Rose Bellwood. Several of the teenaged runners grabbed two cups, gulped one down and poured the other one over their heads. Jane thought about it for a second, grabbed one cup, yelled “thanks” and gulped down most of it, then patted a dab on her neck and face. It felt cool and refreshing.

  In the few seconds she slowed for the water, several people passed her. Carrie was not among them. Tory was still ahead, running hard. Another hill was in sight. Jane steeled herself for the climb and mentally paced herself. She didn’t have on a watch, but she felt sure she was ahead of the time for her fastest run so far. They’d passed the halfway point.

  A hill slowed her a little. Those in the lead pulled ahead by a few yards. Jane heard steps right behind her. They got closer and closer. She glanced over, then let out a breath of relief. It wasn’t Carrie. The runner pulled ahead slowly. Jane willed herself to increase her pace, using this new runner to challenge her.

  Jane’s heartbeat thudded against her chest. Her lungs burned. Her legs ached. She grabbed a drink at the eight-kilometer checkpoint. Tory still ran ahead of her. The girl was good. They started downhill toward town. The road wound around several wide turns. After the first of them, Jane heard feet pounding hard behind her, closing fast. Just as the runner overtook her, she glanced over. Carrie.

  Carrie passed her as if on wheels. Jane stared at her rival’s back in disbelief. Carrie raised a hand and waved, but she didn’t look back.

  Jane couldn’t help admiring Carrie’s long, even strides. They looked effortless. The woman was a powerhouse. She knew how to run. Eleanor would be impressed. Carrie rounded the bend in front of them, passing several other runners. Jane’s heart sank. Here we go again, she thought. By the time she reaches the finish line, she’ll be doing her hippity-hop victory dance.

  Jane refused to give up. She poured on the steam, forcing her legs to move faster, her breathing to grab deeper, her mind to grow more determined. Around the next curve—no Carrie in sight. One curve to go, then the last stretch into town to the finish line.

  She could see downtown as she rounded the curve. Then she saw something that stunned her. Carrie had stopped. She was leaning over someone. Someone was down.

  Carrie had it well in hand. This was Jane’s chance. Keep on running. She was about to beat Carrie Gleason. Smiling, she drew up alongside, then began to pass her.

  Rats, Jane thought. She stopped, turned and jogged back.

  It was Tory sprawled on the ground, her head down, looking pale as death. Carrie looked up.

  “Diabetic,” she said.

  Jane reached into her pocket and pulled out a pencil-thin, plastic-wrapped tube. She pulled the plastic off and reached out with it toward Tory. “It’s fruit leather. It should give you enough carbs to make it.”

  Tory looked at her with a blank stare.

  “She’s had a sugar crash. Here.” Carrie took it and held it to Tory’s mouth. “Suck on it like it’s a candy cane,” she instructed.

  Tory let Carrie push it into her mouth. She blinked and began sucking on the dried fruit.

  “I usually have a snack. I can’t believe it,” Carrie said. She looked at Jane and smiled. “Thanks. Go on ahead. I’ll wait with her and help her in.”

  “I could send someone out to pick her up.”

  Tory pushed to her feet and staggered. She looked ready to cry. “I’ve got to make it. Please. I can go on.”

  “You’re in no shape to run,” Carrie said.

  “I’ll walk. I’ve got to. I promised my grandma I’d make it. She just lost her toe
. They amputated it because of her diabetes. I can make it.”

  Jane looked at Carrie. “How about the three of us. We’re almost there. You and I can walk her across.”

  Carrie looked at Tory, a worried expression on her face. “You sure you want to try to walk in. It’s still quite a distance when your sugar is so low.”

  “Please. I’m sorry that I made you stop.”

  “Sometimes losing is winning,” Carrie said. “Come on. Put one arm across my shoulder and one across Jane’s. What’s your name, by the way?”

  “Tory Winters.”

  “Hi, Tory. I’m Carrie. Glad to meet you.”

  The three of them limped into town. Just before they got to the finish line, Carrie looked down at Tory and said, “Get ready now. Any time you cross the finish line, you’re a winner. Then you get to whoop it up, just for making it. Okay?” She looked at Jane and winked.

  Jane nearly dropped Tory. Any time you cross the finish line, you’re a winner. Then you get to whoop it up, just for making it.

  “Okay, ready to sashay,” Jane said, getting into the spirit of it. They reached the line together.

  “You put your left foot across, you put your right foot across, you put your whole self across and you shake it all about,” Carrie sang out as they carried out her commands.

  “You do the hokey-pokey and you turn yourself around,” Jane added, as the three of them whirled around in a circle, shaking their arms and legs and laughing like giddy teenagers.

  “That’s what it’s all about,” Tory said, huffing to catch her breath, finishing the ditty. She hung on to Jane and Carrie, and laughed as her mother came over, bewildered.

  Tory sobered. “I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t do so well. Jane and Carrie had to help me. I feel better now.”

  The mother gave them a grateful smile. “Tory was just diagnosed three weeks ago. We don’t have this figured out yet, but she insisted on running this race for her grandmother who has diabetes too.”