Running From, Running To

A story, loosely based on Matthew Fourteen

by Mark Johnson

Andy made his way off the bus on a warm autumn morning. The leaves were rustling in the morning breeze. Younger kids were full of horseplay outside the school, as usual, prior to the first bell before class. It didn’t usually bother Andy, but today they were annoying, clingy, and almost parasitic in nature. Or at least he perceived them that way. He dreaded going back to class, but his mother had told him that life would go on, ready or not.

After missing the last five days of class, spanning two weeks, it seemed like ages since he had entered into the walls of quartzite and granite that constructed Truman High. His homework had been mounting, and the weight of his backpack made it harder for him to weave through the bustling hallway towards his locker.

As Andy made his way to class, he kept his head down, desperately trying to make it through the day without having to make lengthy explanations to classmates. But he knew it wouldn’t happen. Teenagers are just too curious. They revel in the misery of others.

“Bout time you get back.” He heard followed by a punch in the arm. It was John, fellow classmate and member of the Truman Cross Country Team. “Nangle’s been asking about you at practice, ya know, wondering if you were leaving for the whole semester or what. You picked a bad day to come back. It’s Hiawatha Hill after school today.”

John always knew how to break the ice. Andy just smirked and continued on. As if going back to school wasn’t tough enough, going back to Cross Country practice was not high on his list. Especially on the day they were going to run Hiawatha Hill.

Coach Nangle took pride in making practice long and hard, and he found glee in pushing kids to the limit. Andy always thought that he just liked to be tough. He was as gentle as a bull and as cuddly as a pail of rusty nails. All the kids said he turned into such a hardened drill sergeant after his son tragically died. Andy wouldn’t have to wait until after school to see him. He would have Coach Nangle for 4^th period gym class.

The first three classes of the day drug on, but at least they passed with little confrontation.  But once the bell tolled, he knew he would have to explain his absence to Nangle in gym class. Andy made his way down the hallway towards the steps to the gymnasium. He could hear Nangle barking out orders to the students that were already there for the impending setup for floor hockey. Such a game would take way more physical effort than Andy had to offer today.

As the game got underway, Andy was surprised that there was no snide comment from Coach Nangle as to his recent disappearance. It was probably being saved up for later. As class concluded and dismissed to lunch, Coach yelled out, “Gonna make it to practice tonight, Thompson?”

The hairs on Andy’s neck started to stand. “Yeah, Yeah, I know. Hiawatha Hill tonight,” Andy taunted back to the gruff old man.

Andy dodged his way through the day at school, and then it was off to practice. Much to his surprise, the Drill Sergeant didn’t rant or rave. He just gave the instruction for practice and sent the team off. At first Andy’s legs felt like they were cased in lead and filled with peanut butter. The time off had taken its toll. But after a few warm up laps around the track, he started to find his groove.

The running was still hard, but he was finding it therapeutic. Andy thought to himself about the previous week. As he made his way up Hiawatha Hill, Andy hardly noticed the fatigue in his legs. He thought about the fun he and Kevin used to have. He thought about how they both went out for cross-country instead of football, not that they couldn’t have played football, mostly just because they didn’t care for the jocks on the team.

About half the way up the tedious hill, his mind was jolted back to the funeral. Kevin would have laughed if he would have seen how that group of fifteen-year-old pallbearers struggled to get his casket up the steep steps of the church. It probably would have made him think of this very hill.

Exhausted runners slowly made their way up the hill to the finish. Everyone did a few push-ups and sit-ups and then headed back to the school locker rooms. But before Andy could slip away, he heard, “Thompson stay back. I’ll need to visit with you.”

John looked over to Andy and mouthed the words, “Good luck, loser.”

Andy sat on the grass, waiting for everyone to leave. So did Coach Nangle.

“It was a pretty rough week, huh?” Coach said without beating around the bush.

Andy just nodded his head.

“You seemed pretty down in class today, but I can’t say I blame you.”

Andy looked up.

“You know, I lost my son when he was about your age. I thought about that a lot this last week.”

Andy kept sitting in silence.

“It’s always a tragedy to lose someone young.”

Andy just sat there.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” Nangle asked.

Still no response from Andy.

“You know, life is like running. You are either running away from something or you are running to something,” said Coach Nangle.

Strangely enough, those words made sense to Andy. There was a long, awkward silence between the student and the suddenly less intimidating coach.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t push people away or run from them. Instead, run to those who can help you, through good times and bad. I wish someone would have given me that advice years ago,” Coach Nangle said with a single tear streaming down his cheek. “Once you run from something so long, it’s just that much farther to turn around and go the other direction. But no matter how far you go the wrong way, don’t let it discourage you from someday turning around.”

Andy stood up and muttered, “Thanks, Coach.”

He reached out to shake his hand, and Coach Nangle returned the gesture with a firm reassuring grip.

“Well I better jog it on in.” Andy said.

“Hop in,” Coach Nangle offered, “and I’ll give you a ride back.”

##

A last word:

In Matthew Chapter 14, verses 13-21, the story is told about Jesus feeding the five thousand who had followed. The multitudes had “run to him” in a remote place on an effort put forth by faith. In verses 22-33 Jesus walked on water and asked Peter to come to him. And although Peter almost faltered, Jesus then ran to him and displayed his grace towards us. Then in verses 34-36, Jesus healed all who ran to him. If we run to God, we can someday take comfort in crossing the finish line.

  
[-] © 2007 by Mark Johnson