A wink and a smile

The day had started well enough, cloudless skies and a chill in the air, the kind of morning he liked. Yeah! Refreshing too, crunching the light frost as he walked to school. He walked alone, preferred it that way, no one to argue and fall out with. Not that he argued much, he hated that.

He walked on for a while, taking in the sights and smells of the countryside, when the thought came to him, that he’d best describe himself as one of the strong and silent types, and he smiled at that. Then he changed it to, lean and silent, enjoying the satisfaction of being the opposite of quite a number at his school.

School was all right, he’d learned to keep his head down, get on with things, drawing less attention to himself that way and though his grades were reasonable, something was missing. School reports suggested he was not working to his potential, was capable of better, even adding that his outlook was immature. That took some working through. He was 16, did they expect him to have the outlook of an 18 year old, he mused. The staff member who passed as Guidance Counsellor said he had latent abilities … doesn’t everyone? he’d asked. But the guy didn’t seem to hear the question; he was a prune, all talk and diplomas on the wall, more interested in loading him with leaflets and information and getting him to choose a career than listening and trying to understand where a guy was at.

To be honest, he’d given some thought to whether he had any abilities awaiting the opportunity to surface, and if he had, where they might assist him fitting into the overall scheme of things. Couldn’t think of any. His dad was disappointed in him; he knew that, even though he’d not said anything outright. But he could tell. The way he went on about sport, especially rugby. “Now a man’s got to have guts to play that game,” was the way the lecture usually started. He’d tried to explain it wasn’t for him and switched off whenever the lecture began. With less frequency now, thank goodness.

He liked the old farm cottage they lived in, it gave him a chance to escape into the native bush close by. To run and breathe deeply. Man, he enjoyed that. Not to any timetable or set routine. Just anywhere, for as long as he liked whenever the fancy took him. And as he ran he went over the day’s lessons in his mind. Yeah! Recalling them, questioning, testing himself to see how much he could remember. It wasn’t easy at first but his recall did improve, and gradually he came to realise that he was teaching himself to learn. And he did; so whenever exams came along, generally the questions didn’t bother him a bit, no matter which way they had been set. I’m not just lean and silent, he thought after the latest results placed him in the top bracket, but a lean and silent, clever bastard too. Oh yes, he did enjoy his running.

Then he’d found an airstrip for top-dressing aircraft, not used much now with the farmers facing lean times. It was ideal for running. Down the left hand side and back up the right. The slight slope at one end made him puff quite a bit at first but it wasn’t long before he could run on a kind of auto-drive without a break in his stride or breathing. And man, did he feel good. He’d yell out loud sometimes with the sheer enjoyment of it. He’d been embarrassed the first time it had happened, ducking down out of sight and looking round to see if anyone had noticed. But there was no one, and gradually he’d let it rip, full bore, all stops out, ending in a glorious Yeah! which began at the bottom of the scale, ascending as far as his vocal cords allowed. As he’d heard a friend once say, “He felt that good he was dangerous.”

One day, flushed with happiness as he’d made his way home, a seventh former asked if he’d heard about an athletic meet the following week. He’d never have known about it otherwise. It was over in Cambridge, half an hour’s drive away and on the morning of the meet he reckoned he could have been on another planet, for there wasn’t one face he recognised. Still, it was interesting experience and though the feeling of being on his own again threatened to dampen his spirits, something of the atmosphere got to him. Reckoned he could do as well as any of the runners he’d seen so far and spoke to an official who checked his entry formalities, told him who to see and where to go.

Eight other runners lined up for the Open 16 year olds’ race. They had all the correct gear, singlets, shorts and running shoes with spikes. He stood there in his gym shorts, t-shirt and sand shoes, ignoring the amused grins of his competitors. He felt good, four times round the track with most of the other guys following behind and feeling he could run four more. It was the first race he’d entered since primary school and it was a breeze.

The thing was, he’d just won the race, yet he was the only one who had no one there to talk to. I mean, it’s all right winning but it’s better still if you have someone to share it with. He was beginning to think he wouldn’t bother entering another race, when the official came up, gave him a wink and a smile and murmured, “It’s not everything, having the correct gear, is it. Good on you, anyway. See you again, then.”
Oh yes, he’d be back again. It was the wink and the smile that did it.

© Dennis Crompton 2003
(first published www.denniscrompton.wordpress.com 2012)