From Tracktown, With Love

Go get 'em, Tiger!

"I'm sure Mo Farah will win the 5,000m. He's a bloody lege..."

Crystal's incessant tugging on Luke's sleeve punctuated his spirited conversation on the 2016 Olympic hopeful with his best homie, Raj.

"It's 12.30 already." Crystal resumed pestering her brother, who simply swatted her hands away before she tore his prized black shirt. It was his precious baby, the one he donned when he won last month's Sundown Marathon in spectacular fashion. Luke had been step to step and neck to neck with his greatest rival, Warner, for most part of the race until he decided to turn up the heat for the last 2km stretch. The risk paid off handsomely as he dove across the finishing line, muscles screaming and stomach churning, 10 minutes shy of the decade-old national record of 2 hour 24 minutes and 18 seconds. Warner was nowhere in sight. As euphoria and disbelief filled his glucose-deprived mind, Luke knew all too well in the back of his head he would need to find a new place to train and compete to fulfil his life-long dream of qualifying for the Olympics. A place where he could push his limits, a place where people understood the extent of his obsession for running, a place where the average guy would be free to pursue his extraordinary track dreams.

Luke's hometown was simply too small for the boy with big dreams. Luke's parents knew that, Luke's friends knew that, hell, even Luke's 8 year old sister knew that.

And perhaps most important of all, she knew that.

"Son, you're gonna miss your flight." Luke's mom motioned to the departure gate, and checked his hand carry luggage for his essentials for the umpteenth time. As he watched Mom paw through the bag and squabble with Dad over the adequate number of chapsticks to bring, a small twinge of sadness pricked his bubble of excitement. No longer would he wake up to the smell of pancakes and fried eggs, no longer would he get a ride to school every morning, no longer would he fight with his little sister over the TV remote.

No longer would he have someone to kiss in the rain.

Luke hoisted the bulky bag over his shoulder,  and began doling out embraces to everyone in the modern and pristine departure hall. He was buying time, he knew it. Despite his best efforts to prolong the hug to each individual, the time to leave came, inevitably. He took a last look at his group of close friends, waved at his beloved family and finally, stole a last glance across the relatively empty departure hall. A coldness settled over him, but it wasn't from the air conditioners on full blast.

She didn't come. Nor did he expect her to.

With a heavy heart and a forced smile upon his face, Luke handed his passport and boarding pass over to the immigration officer hesitantly and slowly strode through the clear glass doors to the new life that awaited him in Tracktown USA.

Somewhere behind a pillar, a small figure slumped to the floor, defeated, unnoticed.

***

8 hours strapped in the cramped window seat left Luke in want of yet another chance to stretch his legs. He'd peered out the 3-paned window countless times into the dark nothingness 42,000 feet from the ground, won $6.5 million virtual dollars from playing "Who wants to be a Millionaire" and watched "Zootopia", "Finding Dory" and "Deadpool" to entertain his pent-up mind. These sedentary activities were killing Luke slowly but surely, yet he knew the large beefy couple sleeping beside him would surely grind his bones into powder if he dared to rouse them from their precious sleep for what must be the fifth time in the row to go to the toilet. Desperate, Luke began humming a made-up song under his breath and tapping his feet on the dusty carpet, a poor choice that led him to sneeze three times in a row.

God, he wasn't even halfway there.

Luke scoured through his bag for his chapstick and touched something foreign - it felt like a book with a beaded cover. Curious, Luke drew out said object gingerly and placed it gently on his tray table. The handmade book cover was crude, with seemingly random splotches of beige and blue sequins that clashed horribly with each other. Definitely from an amateur Pinterest influencer wannabe. It took Luke a while to make out the floppy-haired runner - who he presumed was him - threaded into the cover. He felt a smile creep on his face as he stroked the brightly coloured sequins. Sure, Crystal was annoying at times, but she was really sweet to plant such a lovely diary in his bag. Luke pulled the diary close - he did not quite understand how a diary could be so ugly and beautiful at the same time. Then, he flipped the cover open.

Nothing could have prepared him for what was to come.

Luke felt his heart clench and twist at the familiar messy handwriting he had come to love so much. The words were smudged around the edges and were barely legible, but they were precious all the same. It struck him there and then what he had truly given up and left behind for a shot at becoming one of the world's best marathoners. It was a good thing his fellow passengers were sound asleep - he had been putting off this moment for the longest time, but now he could hold it in no longer. As he read and re-read the smeared blue ink, tears fell uncontrollably onto his lap, staining his grey cotton pants in little round blotches, not unlike those on the page.

Go get 'em, Tiger!

***

"Look, Jaime, Yvonne made Raj a pop-up card for his birthday!"

"Luke, we've been through this. I told you my sister sucked all the creative juices from Mom's womb and left none for me."

"She folded a jar of straw hearts for him too!"

"Luke, I can't do that ok. I can give great massages but my hands aren't made for artsy fartsy handmade mumbo jumbo. Remember I drew an apple and everyone insisted they saw a pear? Now get off my back, I gotta study."

"I would really love to own something you made for me someday."

"Perhaps, if that's the last thing I do."

***