A Collection of Stories

Run!

"When you think you've gone as far as you can," Heath's voice came back to him, "go the extra mile."

He pushed on, his breath coming out in steamy puffs against the icy morning fog. A tall figure loomed in the distance, as always, going strong at a steady pace for ice capped mornings never fazed him. He'd be out in any kind of weather: rain, wind, sunshine, or snow. Not even a combination of these would stop him; he lived and breathed this. Religiously. Consistently. Patiently...

If anyone were to ask Craig if he thought he'd ever be out there too, he would have said no in his good-natured way, not because he didn't want to, but because of his back. It's had always been his back.

It was difficult to sit up straight, let alone walk long distances, and most days, he reclined on the sofa with the pillows for support whenever he wanted to watch the latest wrestling match on TV. And it didn't help that every member of the household was or used to be athletes; his dad was an avid tennis player and cyclist, mom, a mean kick boxer, Uncle Jay used to play football in college, cousin Beatrice was a gymnast, Grandad was a surfer, and his uncle Brian on his mother's side never missed his advanced morning yoga session. Even the twins, Rhys and Rhymes, played soccer. And Heath was the runner. All of this, a pity on Craig's part.

He could only watch.

He would never have attempted the impossible, or what he believed to be impossible, if it weren't for Heath. He had come in one gray afternoon with a fresh pair of walking shoes and a determined expression on his rugged features.

"Alright, kid, time to get off your haunches and start the race 'cause we've got some ways to go."

"What?" said Craig, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in his voice.

"We're going outside every day from now on," said Heath decidedly. "You're gloomy since the visit to the doctor and I'm in need of a protégé, so it's a win win for both of us."

Craig, as usual, made objections, but Heath would hear none of them. Then, slowly and painfully, he walked to the corner and back.

Every day.

A couple of weeks later, he was jogging the same distance.

Every day.

That led to going around the block and eventually around the entire neighborhood. And Heath was always there, cheering him on.

"You've got this lil' bro, you've got this," and, "Never thought you'd be here, huh? Screw whatever that doctor said! Look at you now, you're running, boy!" And he was.

Every single day.

Before he knew it, his back and core were strong. Sitting up was no longer a painful task; playing tennis and cycling with his dad was no longer an impossibility. He attended his little siblings' soccer games and cheered them from the bleachers and even entered his first marathon three years later, with Heath, of course.

"You good?" said Heath, stretching his quads.

"A little nervous but besides that, yeah, I'm good."

Heath did a few squats. "You'll be alright. Who knows? You might even take home the trophy."

Craig said he didn't think he would and thought Heath would have a better chance of getting it. His brother only smiled.

"I don't really need it. I've been running before I learned to walk, as Dad likes to say, and I have a ton of them taking up space in my room." He took a swig from his water bottle. "Tell you what," after a thoughtful pause, "my next trophy is yours, pal. Deal?" They shook on it.

Craig didn't win a trophy that day. But confidence was just as good. Though he didn't run competitively like his brother, he kept at it simply for the thrill of the sport. And Heath remained true to his word.

His next gold trophy he gave to Craig. Beneath it he had written :

"When you think you've gone as far as you can, go the extra mile." - Heath Shaday

Those words stayed with him.

Heath ran four more races before the car accident that claimed him forever. He was a runner at heart, mind and soul. Perhaps that was his one defect, Craig thought, always going too fast. But it made him what he was. A runner.

Now there he was, one chilled blurry morning, jogging down the same road he and Heath had run those many years ago. He had kept the trophies; they were all displayed in his living room along with a plaque containing Heath's favourite slogan. He smiled.

"You know what?... Maybe I'll enter this year's marathon," he said aloud. And looking ahead, he saw Heath turn back to throw him two thumbs up. He chuckled as he picked up the pace.

"No matter how fast I run, Heath will always be ahead by that extra mile," he thought.