Never Too Late (Brier Hospital)

by Larence Gold

  “It certainly wasn’t a mistake, Savannah said as she faced the camera. Izzy broke the women’s record for the fastest Napa Valley Marathon.”

  Matt turned to Jennifer. “Has your mother’s success inspired you?”

  “No. I don’t have the talent and I certainly don’t have the discipline.”

  Savannah faced Izzy. “So tell us, Izzy, how well will you do in Boston?”

  “I don’t know,” Izzy said. “The Kenyans have been dominant. I’d have to be at my very best to come close to them. Then, I need to stay well. At my age, you don’t spring back from injury. It takes time to heal.”

  Both Matt and Savannah rose to shake their hands.

  Matt faced Jennifer. “Keep her well, would you?”

  “Without saying anything about all the worthy competitors,” Savannah said, “we, and millions of others, especially seniors, will be rooting for you, Izzy.” She paused. “I almost said, ‘break a leg’ but good luck is more appropriate.”

  After they left Rock Center, Jennifer said, “We have the whole afternoon. Let’s go shopping.”

  Izzy frowned. “Okay, but I don’t know how much I can take.”

  They visited Bergdorf Goodman, Saks Fifth Avenue, and several boutiques. Izzy gasped at the prices.

  When Jennifer visited the Manolo Blahnik Boutique, and paid $400 for a pair of shoes, Izzy choked and said, “If I ever put my feet into those, that would be the end of my running career.”

  When the returned to the hotel, Izzy worked out again, and then they had dinner at Ai Fiori, one of Manhattan’s finest gourmet restaurants. The place was jammed so they sat at the marble bar sipping chardonnay. The bartender was staring at Izzy, and after a few minutes, he said, “Dr. K…Izzy Kramer?”

  Jennifer nodded.

  He rushed to the maître de, and in a moment he had them seated. “We’re so pleased to have you join us tonight, Doctor,” he said.

  “It’s Izzy,” she said.

  “You, Señora have done more for pasta than Chef Boyardee. If you’ll permit, we’d love to send our best pasta to you in Boston.”

  Izzy was embarrassed. “Thank you, but I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “It’s nothing, Señora. If you win eating our pasta, that will be gratitude enough.”

  The meal was delicious, but well-wishers kept interrupting. Izzy was gracious while Jennifer steamed.

  “The next time we go out in public,” Jennifer said, “I’ll have a disguise for you, Mother.”

  “Well, let’s enjoy it while we can. My fifteen minutes of fame are almost over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next morning, Connie came into Izzy’s office. “I have a Rachel Hart on the line,” Connie said.

  “I don’t recognize the name,” Izzy said. “What’s it about?”

  “She represents the Women’s Sports Consortium, an advocacy group for girls and women.”

  “I hate to be cynical, but I’m getting too many bogus calls. Are they legit?”

  “Of course,” Connie said, “My sister and her girls all participate. Where have you been, Izzy?”

  “I must have too much free time on my hands. Put her through.”

  “Thank you for taking my call, Dr. Kramer,” Rachel said. “You must be so busy.”

  “I’m never too busy for a good cause, Rachel. My secretary’s sister and her girls are all members. They think WSC is great.”

  “Thank you, again,” Rachel said, “but we could use your help.”

  “I’d be happy to make a contribution, but it can’t be much.”

  Rachel laughed. “It must be part of being a public figure—being hit up constantly for money.” She paused. “We don’t want your money, Dr. Kramer, we want you.”

  “Me? What for, and please call me Izzy, everyone does.”

  “Our focus had been on girls and young woman—fighting for their rights and for equal opportunity, but until Izzy Kramer appeared on the scene, we hadn’t recognized that we’d been ignoring an entire sector of the population, mature women.”

  “Your first action should be to hire a public relations firm to come up with a better designation. Mature women, matron, elderly, matriarch, and my all-time favorite, cougar, won’t cut it.”

  “I’ll put out a RFP or start a contest among our members for the best name.” Rachel paused. “What I really want is for you to speak at our next meeting on a subject of your choosing.”

  Izzy scratched her head. “I don’t know…” She paused. “I’m not the kind of person who can put together something meaningful with little notice, especially now when I’m really busy. This sounds too important to do a half-assed job.”

  “I don’t think that Dr. Isabel Kramer is capable of that, so let me make it as easy as possible. Your life story is compelling enough. Just tell us what happened and how you arrived at this moment.”

  “Where and when?” Izzy asked.

  “Your choice, Izzy. If you can get us a conference room at UC Berkeley, that would be great.”

  “Since I’m preparing for the Boston Marathon, it better be soon as I get a bit surly the more I train.”

  Izzy contacted UC public relations. They were overjoyed with the opportunity and arranged with UC Event Services for a meeting room at the MLK Jr. Student Union on Bancroft Way.

  The room designed for 250 people had standing room only.

  Izzy had expected many young women and girls, but she was pleasantly surprised to find many grey-haired women as well.

  Rachel introduced Izzy and when she rose to the podium, the room erupted in applause.

  When Izzy reddened with embarrassment, the audience applauded again.

  Izzy raised her hands to quiet the audience. “Okay, enough already, I certainly do feel welcome.”

  Izzy described her abbreviated running career in high school and the latent frustration of her inability to further develop that aspect of her life.

  “Times were different, and thank God, that most of you won’t have to deal with such stereotypical goals for women. My mother, a good person, actually said that running was not ‘ladylike’.”

  Izzy described the Bay to Breakers as a sentinel moment in her life. “I did it as a lark and to support my daughter, Jennifer, but it brought back my delight in long distance running.

  “When I started training for the marathon, nobody would take me seriously. Who could blame them, a sixty-year-old woman training for the most demanding race. Finally, after I challenged Mitchell Silverstein’s masculinity and bested him in a five-mile run, he agreed to take me on. Did he have preconceptions about me, you bet; but they vanished when he saw me anew as an athlete. He’s been one of my most ardent supporters since.”

  “I don’t have to tell anyone here that our fight isn’t over. Let me relate a sexist joke that may, on first blush, have you reaching for your pitchforks and torches, but, trust me, I have a point to make: How many liberated women does it take to change a light bulb?” She paused. “Five. One to turn the bulb and four to form a support group.”

  About a quarter of the audience laughed, and the rest groaned or remained silent.

  “Here’s the point,” Izzy said. “Validation through support groups is valuable, but individual affirmation is even better. For the moment, we don’t live communal lives and we still must fend for ourselves individually. I see it all the time in my practice when people, especially women, can’t find the confidence to stand alone—to stand up for their beliefs—and, to take their rightful positions in society.”

  After Izzy received enthusiastic applause, Rachel said, “Izzy has agreed to take a few questions.”

  A woman in her twenties raised her hand. “How do you feel about competing in a man’s world?”

  “That’s the great part of the marathon. You’re competing against other women, but mostly you’re competing against yourself.”

  Another woman stood. “The press hasn’t always been kind to you, Dr. Kramer. How do you deal with it?”<
br />
  “Please everyone, it’s Izzy. I’m sad to say that we don’t always evaluate the real value of criticism. When Ross, my husband, says something critical, I know, up front, that it’s constructive. Likewise, when my coach, Mitch says something, I value it as coming from a source I respect. When criticism comes from loudmouths on talk radio or from those brave souls who relish in the anonymity of the Internet, well what can you do? To all of you, I say, criticism can have value or it can be destructive. It’s up to each of you as individuals to make the distinction.”

  “How far can you go, Izzy?”

  “Thank you all for your attention. That is a great final question and my answer will be highly personal. First of all, I must stay healthy. At my age, that’s critical. For me, the process, the training and the struggle are more important than the final objective. I find nothing wrong in winning, for after all, winning brings with it satisfaction, public acclaim, and many material benefits. Placing inordinate value on winning may work for a Vince Lombardi who said, ‘winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing’, but that signs you up for a fool’s errand where only the select few can and do win. I say that there’s more to sport than winning. I hope that I’ve made that point for you today. Thank you.”

  After Izzy signed dozens of programs, Rachel asked, “Will you come back and speak with us after the Boston Marathon?”

  “Win or lose?” Izzy asked.

  Rachel shook her head. “Your cynicism surprises me, Izzy. Give us more credit than that.”

  “Oh, it’s not really cynicism, Rachel. It’s more a provocation and a challenge to all of you. Let’s say that I’ve been through a lot and that adversity has taken its toll on me. Having reservations about the future is an equally effective defense mechanism without the negative connotations associated with the word, cynicism. I’ll settle for that, and hope you will, too.”

  “Finally,” Izzy said, “we’ve been in transition between the excessive preoccupation with youthful, healthy winners in sports, to a growing respect for the accomplishments of individuals regardless of age. It’s about time, don’t you think?”

  The room resounded with whistles and applause.

  When Izzy arrived in her office, Monday, Connie handed her a computer printout. “What is it?”

  “A fan from the Boston area sent this about a cable sports talk program called Boston Sports Gab. You were the main topic of discussion. According to the fan, it got pretty ugly.”

  Izzy felt her abdomen cramping. “What did they say about me?”

  “She sent a link to the podcast.”

  “Did you listen to it?”

  Connie nodded. “You don’t want this kind of grief, Izzy. Let it go.”

  “Hell I will. Play it for me.”

  “I don’t think so. Would you play something hurtful for me that you know is totally baseless and cruel?”

  “I would, if I knew that you needed it to protect yourself. Mitch said this was coming and that I needed to deal with it. Play it.”

  The podcast loaded and a fit-looking man in his forties appeared on the screen:

  Bruno: Welcome back. This is Bruno Hackmann. Our next topic may stir up some controversy—hell, that’s why we’re here. We’ve been hearing a lot about the remarkable sixty-year-old professor who’s been breaking records in the women’s marathon, Dr. Isabel Kramer or Izzy to her fans. While she’s become the darling of senior citizens and women, we’ve been hesitant to criticize such an icon. My guest, Rena Saeed, a student at Stanford, has no such reservations. Welcome, Rena.

  Rena: Thank you for having me, Bruno. It’s difficult to find a venue that allows truth about popular figures.

  Bruno: Please share some truth with us, Rena. As far as I can tell, Izzy Kramer, at age sixty, is a remarkable story of dedication and hard work, especially moving for the public, women, and seniors. You’re not going to ruin that for us, are you, Rena?

  Rena: I ran against her in the Napa Valley Marathon, and although my coach considers me a world-class runner, Dr. Kramer wiped the floor with me and everyone else in that category. One would have to be especially naïve to accept Izzy’s performance without question.

  Bruno: If you’re alleging that Izzy Kramer cheated, I suggest that you’d better have convincing proof.

  Rena: I’m alleging no such thing. Dr. Kramer’s performance is however at variance with athletes and especially with marathoners. Hell, she shattered the Napa Valley Marathon record, a time that stood for its entire history. If I broke such a record, people would be questioning me as well.

  Bruno and Rena talked for another twenty minutes when Bruno said: It’s time we heard from our listeners. Sally, on line one, go ahead.

  Sally: How can you give voice to this angry, bitter woman? She hasn’t produced a shred of evidence to support her speculations. Bruno, how can I listen to a man without journalistic integrity?

  Bruno: Rena, what do you say to that?

  Rena: I don’t need to justify myself when I’m simply asking questions.

  Bruno: You’re at Stanford. You’re not stupid, so you must understand that just raising the question casts a pall over Dr. Kramer and her performance. In this country, we believe in the presumption of innocence. You presume her guilty and she must prove herself to you and others. How should she do that?

  Rena: All this is moot because by her success, Dr. Kramer has identified herself as an elite athlete.

  Bruno: What difference does that make?

  Rena: It means that the drug-testing agency, USADA can test Dr. Kramer at any time without notice. I predict that eventually they’re going to nail her.

  Bruno: The USADA has tested Dr. Kramer after the Napa Valley Marathon. She was negative.

  Rena: So was Lance Armstrong. Testing negative means nothing.”

  Bruno: Meanwhile, it’s okay to trash a woman’s reputation based only on speculation and conjecture.

  Rena: I made no such…

  Bruno: I think we’ve heard quite enough from Ms. Saeed. He paused. I’d like to apologize to you, my listeners, and especially to Izzy Kramer.

  Connie turned off the computer. “What do you think, Izzy?”

  “I remember a quote from Josh Billings, the great humorist: ‘Love looks through a telescope; envy, through a microscope.’”

  “I don’t see much humor in that and who’s really ready to have their lives examined under a microscope?”

  They next day, the two agents from the USADA were waiting at Izzy’s office as she arrived for work.

  Izzy paled when she saw them.

  Connie looked up at Izzy. “They’re from…”

  “I know who they are, Connie.” She turned to them and said, “Come into my office.”

  The agents sat before Izzy’s desk. The woman said, “You don’t look too happy to see us?”

  “No offense intended, but what athlete is?”

  “Athletes who have nothing to hide,” the man said.

  “You just tested me. Why so soon again?”

  “Randomness is part of our protocol,” the woman said. “Expect us, when you least expect it.”

  “Okay,” Izzy said, standing. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Afterward, Izzy faced the two agents, and said, “This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After dinner, Izzy, Ross, and Jennifer sat on the rear deck. It was unseasonably warm, and they were enjoying the beautiful evening.

  “How was your massage today, Izzy?”

  “Wonderful. Heather is back and she had me so relaxed that I fell asleep. Let me buy you a series of massages, sweetie.”

  “I don’t think so,” he paused, “unless it comes with a ‘happy ending.’”

  Izzy laughed. “Not from Heather. She’s deeply religious, and gay.”

  “Oh, well. So much for the fantasy.” Ross grasped Izzy’s hand. “You won’t say it, but you must be thinking, is training and the public spotlight worth all the has
sle?”

  “I’d be lying to you if I didn’t think that on occasion, but we’re too close to back down now. Once I finish the Boston Marathon, regardless of how well I do, it’s over—no more Izzy Kramer to kick around.”

  Ross smiled. “That was Nixon’s line.”

  “You’re equating me with Nixon?”

  “Right. Him, I didn’t care about, but you…”

  “It’s so unfair, Mother. How could anyone think you’d cheat?”

  “It’s not personal. Runners do use performance-enhancing drugs. Testing is the better of evils.”

  “How are things going in the VR lab?” Ross asked.

  “I think they get more out of it than I do. To me, it’s like working out.”

  “You see no benefit, Mother?”

  “I’m more relaxed and at ease before running, but that’s about it. They talk a lot about physiological changes from VR including muscle action, reflexes, and energy management, but I don’t see how they can separate VR effects from those arising from intense training. It’s interesting work, but it’s too early to judge its effects. The VR games, however, are fantastic, a peek into the future of electronic games.”

  “How long will you continue with the VR lab?” Ross asked.

  “They’ll test me again, just before I leave for Boston.”

  Jennifer grasped Izzy’s hand. “This whole thing is nuts. Please tell me that there’s nothing going on in that VR lab that could put your performance into question.”

  “Absolutely not. They give me nothing and they take samples of my blood at intervals for testing. Please, not to worry.”

  “I can’t help but worry,” Ross said. “I’ve thought about it a bit, and from my professional perspective, anyone who becomes a public figure needs their head examined.”

  Izzy was sitting with Abbie Adler for a counseling session. “I had my doubts about seeing you, but now, I’m glad I did.”