by Chris Fabry
“You ready?” John said.
“Let’s do it,” Thomas said.
CHAPTER 39
Hannah practiced hard at the start of the week and did lighter workouts as she neared race day. She asked her grandmother if she would watch her run her final race. Her grandmother said she had to work. On Friday evening Hannah asked one more time.
“You know how much I want to be there,” her grandmother said. “It’s just that Mr. Odelle is hard-nosed about missing work. I can drive you to the race, but I have to leave before you run.”
“That’s fine,” Hannah said.
“My boss said you know his son. His name’s Bobby.”
Bobby. She didn’t know a Bobby. Then it clicked. “Wait, you work for Robert Odelle’s dad?”
“Do you know Bobby?”
“Unfortunately,” Hannah said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hannah told her what had happened. She described what Robert had done and how she tried to not get angry at him. That led to an explosion in the lunchroom.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I should have. But something good came out of it. I had a long talk with Mrs. Brooks. She explained what it means to have a relationship with God.”
“Is that so? What did she say?”
Her grandmother sounded interested. Hannah told her about praying with Mrs. Brooks and coming home and making a list from Ephesians.
“Do you still have that paper?”
Hannah got it from her backpack and showed her the list she had written and the notes she had taken since then.
“Look at all the places it says ‘in Him’ in these verses,” Hannah said, pointing them out. “And it talks about God’s will over and over.”
Her grandmother studied the page. “This is really something, baby. Who taught you how to do this?”
Hannah shrugged. “I just asked God to help me. And after I read this through, I realized something about . . .”
“About what?”
“I don’t think you want to hear it.”
“Yes, I do. Tell me.”
“It’s about my father.”
Her grandmother nodded, urging her on.
“I knew I needed to forgive him because God forgave me.”
Her grandmother glanced away but Hannah continued.
“I took a lot of things, Grandma. A lot more than the stuff you found. I hid them from you. So when I received God’s forgiveness, I knew what He wanted me to do. I needed to return them. So I did. And it wasn’t easy, but I felt a lot better. And I figured, if God could forgive me for the bad things I’ve done, I could forgive my dad for not being there for me. I could choose not to hold that against him anymore.”
Her grandmother wiped something from her face. “All this forgiving you’re doing, what does that mean about Robert?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about talking to him. Maybe I’ll tell him what’s happened to me.”
“What if he makes fun of you?”
Hannah shrugged. “I can’t control that. I only control how I act toward him.”
Her grandmother nodded. “That makes a lot of sense, baby. I hope he listens. You’ve got something good to tell him if he does.”
Hannah smiled. “Yes, Grandma.”
That night she wrote her father a long letter. She included the conversation she’d had with her grandmother.
When I brought up the subject of forgiving you, she listened. I think she’s coming around, but it’s taking time. And I’m worried you don’t have much time left. But I have to trust that God knows all this.
I wish I could hear your voice, but I think you’d tell me to listen to my grandmother and obey her. So that’s what I’m going to do.
I love you, Daddy.
Later, she tossed and turned, trying to sleep. She thought about the course, going over the hills, flat stretches, and especially the long stretch to the finish line. Some old fears crept in, like the one about finishing last or not finishing at all. Then she remembered who she was in God’s eyes. She pulled out the list and went to sleep thinking about who she really was.
The next day at the race, Hannah hugged her grandmother and thanked her for giving her a ride, then stretched and watched the other teams. She wondered what it would be like to run with teammates instead of feeling alone against the world. The dew hadn’t burned off the grass and her shoes got wet as she walked across the lawn to find the Harrisons.
The stands at the Start/Finish line began to fill with parents and students. Hannah spotted her grandmother by a chain-link fence with her purse over her shoulder, waving good-bye. Hannah wished her father could be there, even if he couldn’t see her run—just to look at him in the crowd would have been encouraging. Of course, in his condition, that was impossible. There was no way her dad would ever be at one of her races.
Mrs. Harrison helped her make final preparations. She pinned her number onto her jersey and Hannah didn’t even glance at it. Mrs. Harrison made sure she had her inhaler. Coach approached and asked how she was doing.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she said.
“Yeah, I’ll bet half the girls out here feel that way.” He handed her a small device that kept her time electronically. “Here’s your chip. Make sure you lace it up tight.”
“You’re going to do great today, Hannah,” Mrs. Harrison said. “Don’t be nervous. This is just another race, okay?”
Coach Harrison glared at his wife. “No, it’s not—it’s a huge race. I’m nervous.”
“That’s not helping, John,” Mrs. Harrison said.
He apologized and also asked if she had her inhaler. Hannah showed him and Coach turned and scanned the grounds. “Check out the stands. You’ve got a cheering section today.”
Hannah saw Ethan and Will, along with Grace and a few other students she’d gotten to know at Brookshire. She smiled as she realized that though she was the only runner on the team, she wasn’t alone.
As she moved toward the starting line, Hannah noticed several runners with armbands connected to an earbud. She hadn’t seen anything like that all year, but she put it out of her mind. She had enough to think about.
Coach Harrison approached her a few minutes before the start of the race. He carried something small.
“Okay, Hannah, I want you to do something for me.”
He took her arm and slipped a band with a small mp3 player around it and strapped it tight.
“What is this?”
“There’s only one track on it. As soon as the race starts, I want you to hit Play.”
Mrs. Harrison strung the single earphone from the player to Hannah’s ear.
“Is this music?” Hannah said.
“Nope,” Coach said. For some reason he wasn’t giving her a complete answer. “As soon as the gun fires, you hit Play and start running, okay? Trust me.” He gave her a final look. “You can go to the starting line.”
Hannah walked away, securing the earpiece. She lined up, shaking her arms and legs, trying to get the butterflies to leave.
“Runners, take your mark,” the starter said over a loudspeaker.
Just as the gun sounded, Hannah hit Play.
CHAPTER 40
“Hannah, this is your dad.”
Hannah nearly stopped when she heard her father’s voice. She couldn’t believe it. It was really him.
“I’m going to coach you through this race,” he said. “And be with you every step of the way. We’re going to do this together. Just stay with me.”
A big smile on her face, she ran with a pack of runners, except this time she had someone else with her. Her dad was there. And somehow hearing him had chased away the butterflies. But how had he recorded this? How had Coach Harrison worked it out? She didn’t have to know. All she had to do was listen and trust her dad and run her race.
The crowd cheered and Hannah sprinted with the others toward the trees and the uphill-downhill
course ahead. The dew had burned off and her legs felt good, like she could run all day and as fast as she wanted.
“Don’t burn yourself out too early,” her father said. It was like he was right beside her, watching her every stride. “Settle into an even pace. About 70 percent of your max speed. But we’re going to need to save some energy for the end.”
The smile in her father’s voice buoyed her. She ran in single file now with runners a few yards ahead and some just steps behind.
“You don’t win races with just your legs. Victory or defeat happens in your head first. This is a mental competition. So I want you to start thinking like a winner.”
Hannah smiled and pushed the earphone in a bit. She wanted to hear every word.
“I’m your biggest fan,” her father said. She could see him now, the look on his face, the light in his eyes, even though he couldn’t see. “You’re going to do great today.”
Hannah didn’t usually smile during races. She focused on technique and form and didn’t allow herself to consider anything else, but hearing her dad’s voice, the clear words he spoke only to her, pushed her and gave her a feeling she’d never experienced while running. Her hair blew in the breeze, her arms pumped, and her legs carried her toward the first hill she needed to climb.
“Now find a girl in front of you and speed up for a few seconds to pass her.”
There were a lot of girls in front of her. She sped up and moved around one girl in a black uniform.
“Then find your pace again. We’re going to take them out one at a time.”
Another runner was just ahead of the girl in black. Hannah passed her as well and settled onto the path again.
“When your body tells you that you can’t do it, don’t listen to it. It’ll tell you that you should quit. You tell your body that your mind is in charge today.”
He was right. There were moments in every race when she wanted to give up or at least slow down. She wanted to give in to the thought she couldn’t beat anyone. But with her father’s clear, caring voice, that wouldn’t happen in this race.
“Give God your best today, Hannah. And no matter what, I love you.”
As she approached the first hill, Hannah was still smiling. She couldn’t have explained the feeling if she tried. She was full of energy, full of hope, full of her father’s love. And it was because for the first time she wasn’t running alone.
“Right now, you’re coming to your first hill,” her father said. “A lot of girls are going to slow down, but not you. You’re going to attack this hill. I want you to pump your arms hard. Your legs are going to speed up too. Pick out the next girl in front of you and pass her. You can do this, Hannah. I know you can. Get after it.”
Hannah saw a girl in front of her in a red jersey. Hills always made her want to slow her pace, but she listened to her father’s voice, sped up, and moved around the girl and pushed harder. Though her father couldn’t see, he was guiding Hannah, helping her navigate the course.
“When you get to the other side, let gravity do the work. Take advantage of that free speed, then find your pace again.”
Hannah flew down the hill and caught the breeze off the lake to her right. She would never forget this day or this run or this feeling.
“You’re doing great, Hannah. Even if your legs start to hurt, don’t slow down. That can make them hurt even more. Keep your pace and push through. You’ll find a second wind.”
Hannah came to a marker on the course, and as she neared it, her father said, “The first mile is done. You’re doing it, Hannah.”
His timing was perfect. How had he recorded these words at the exact pace of her race?
“Don’t look back to see who’s behind you. Don’t worry about them. Focus on what’s ahead. It’s just like in life. You can’t let the past slow you down. Press on to what’s ahead.”
She felt a tightness in her lungs and a familiar fear. She didn’t want to give in to it, but she knew she needed a puff from her inhaler. Keeping her pace, Hannah reached for the device at her side and took a puff, then put it back in its holder. There was no way her father could have predicted this, no way he could have anticipated this moment in the race, but still, his words as she breathed deeply warmed her heart.
“When we give our life over to God, He helps us, He forgives us, He can turn the bad to good and carry us forward.”
Hannah had labored with her breathing, but she was able to pass another runner. The course rose and fell and she kept moving, attacking the hills and using her momentum to increase her speed.
As Hannah neared the midpoint of the race, coaches lined the course and shouted encouragement to their runners. She looked for Coach Harrison and was surprised he wasn’t there. And then she realized that was okay because her father was.
“Hannah, having you in my life is an answer to prayer,” her father continued. “I asked God for it, but I knew I didn’t deserve it. I begged Him to forgive me for not being there for you. One of the greatest blessings in my life has been getting to know my daughter. I praise God for you, Hannah. You don’t know how proud I am of you. I wake up every morning with a smile on my face ready to pray for you.”
Hannah passed the last coach and, like her father advised, focused on what was ahead. She saw the next runner about twenty yards farther and wondered how far ahead Gina Mimms was. She was somewhere up there. Could Hannah catch her?
“I’ve been praying that you would know that I love you. And that God loves you. He says, I know the plans that I have for you. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a hope and a future. I’ve been praying for your grandmother, too, that He would help her and draw her to Himself.”
That was exactly what Hannah had been praying for her grandmother. And Coach Harrison and his family and the people at their church were praying the same thing. Again, she realized she wasn’t alone.
She had just come to a long incline that wound through rocks and trees when she heard her father say, “Hannah, the second mile is behind you. One more to go.”
With two-thirds of the race done, she came to a plateau where she could see clearly. The next runner ahead was about fifteen yards away. Beyond her, two more, and in front of them, Gina Mimms. Like everyone expected, Gina led the race with her powerful strides.
But something strange happened then. Instead of comparing herself with Gina, instead of believing there was no way she could win, Hannah focused on her father’s words.
“Find your breathing rhythm because we have one more hill coming up. This is where you’ll pass another girl. Remember, attack this hill. If someone is in front of you, fight past her.” Her father gave a little laugh. “You can shake her hand after the race.”
Coach Harrison had talked about being “in the zone,” and Hannah was in it now. There were moments in races when she was so focused, so caught up in the running, it was as if all her thoughts and physical energy were gathered and used for one purpose. But she’d never had a race where every part of it felt like that—like she was fully engaged in the task. Of course, she’d never run to her father’s voice.
“Big breath, Hannah. Now take the hill.”
Hannah felt like she was flying as she pulled up to the girl to the right and passed her. She did attack the hill, shortening her stride but running faster. A race official was at the top of the hill pointing them left and Hannah saw Gina Mimms hit the top and turn. There were now two girls between her and Gina.
“Hannah, if you’re like me, this is where your body hits the wall. But we’re going to push through it. This is where you think like a winner. Most runners will slow down, but not you. You have half a mile to go and it belongs to you. If your legs are burning, let them burn. Your lungs may be tired, but they’re not done yet. Other runners are feeling the same thing.”
She felt the burn in her legs and in her lungs, but she also felt a power she had never experienced as she passed the next girl ahead of her.
“You’ve got to g
et yourself in position. Your last kick is coming. If anyone is in front of you, you’ve got to get around them. Don’t let anyone block you.”
Hannah heard her father in her left ear and in her right was the sound of girls running behind her, the girls she had passed who were desperately trying to keep up. She would not slow down. When the runner in green, in second place, moved to her left and slightly blocked her, Hannah pushed through, went around, and kept striding ahead.
She came to a clearing. They were close to the edge of the woods and she could see sunlight and the straightaway that led to the finish line. Hannah also saw the telltale strides of Gina Mimms in front of her and suddenly her lungs felt like they were closing. In any other race she would have slowed because of how powerful Gina looked and how fast she was going and how many titles she had won. But not this race. Instead of seeing Gina Mimms as unbeatable, Hannah saw how close she was. She wasn’t about to slow down.
“You’re near the finish line,” her father said. “And we’re going to finish strong. You’re about to come out of the woods. If Coach Harrison is right, the lead runner is about thirty yards in front of you.”
Hannah couldn’t believe how close her father was to the truth. She was maybe twenty-five yards behind Gina now. She was close enough to hear the girl’s footsteps.
“It’s almost time to kick it in. This is where you pull all your reserves. This is where you leave it all on the course.”
Hannah lengthened her stride. She pushed herself to run faster. Her lungs told her to slow down. She told her lungs that today, she was in charge. They would not control her. She was listening to her father. Her lungs needed to obey.
“Now, my daughter, it’s time!”
Arms pumping, feet pounding.
“Hannah, track her down!”
In one defiant motion, she grabbed the inhaler and threw it aside and felt like she’d tossed off a weight holding her back.
Hannah sprinted through the trees, watching Gina Mimms pick up her pace as well. There was nothing left to do but run the race she’d been given. Her feet pounded the ground and she pushed herself forward like never before.
