Child of Nature

"Your toe strikes the pavement too far back, not allowing you the
forward momentum that would allow you to use the mass of your body as a
propellant", Coach Goering said.

Thor, the runner to who this monstrous speech was directed, was a tall
nordic man, whose lonely blue eyes shone like stars from a perfectly
sculptured face. "Okay, okay. So I lean forward more, right?"

Coach Goering frowned at the informal language. "You adjust the angle
of your body to a lesser degree so your pivotal mass can be used as
power."

"I don't know how to do it, Coach Goering."

"Just lean forward, goddamit", Coach Goering yelled. "Now I wanna see
you run the four hundred in the inside lane."

"But I prefer the outside lane."

"Well I don't give a damn what you prefer."

"The outside lane makes you feel worse and fight harder."

"I want you to run, not fight."

"But running is a fight."

"Get in the inside lane and run the four hundred meter dash", Coach
Goering spoke commandingly. Thor did as he was told. Yet he ran in the
most akward way, leaning back as he sprinted, his body seemed to beat
against the pavement as he raced across the track. And yet his time was
magnificent, the best on the team.

"I'm puzzled, Thor. You didn't do what I said. Why not?"

"I tried."

"Don't try, just do it."

"What was my time."

"You broke your record by one second."

"Isn't that great? Aren't you proud of me, coach?"

"I'm just puzzled. You're doing the thing the wrong way and getting
results."

"Then how am I doing it the wrong way?"

"The books say you should lean forward on your toes."

"So you almost fall forward and catch yourself every time,
right?"
"Yeah, I guess that's why."

"But if you lean backward, you feel entirely balanced and can put all
of your power into running."

"But you'll never get anywhere unless you learn to do things the way
they're supposed to be done."

"Then I'll never get anywhere."

"Damn right you'll never get anywhere. George is going to run in your
place at the Riverside Meet." George was a stocky rich kid who always
did exactly what he was told, in school, athletics and everything else.
Where Thor almost always had a pleasant smile on his face, George
almost always had a frown. Yet George was very popular and this made
Thor think that people prefered George's frown.

"But George doesn't love running like I do."

"He's more consistent."

"No, I've been in twenty heats with George and he's only beaten me
once."

"I don't think that's true." There was a note of anger in Goering's
voice.

"I've recorded all of the meets. I can show them to you." Thor had long
anticipated this struggle with George to run in the Riverside Meet, a
prestigous meet where each school was allowed to put only one athlete
in every event.

"I'll tell you what. I'm going to call George over here this minute.
You two will race for the spot in the four hundred. But if you don't
lean forward, George will run at the Riverside Meet, even if you
win."

As rarely happened, a frown came across Thor's face but he simply said,
"okay."

"George! Get over here." George was busy playing hacky sack with a
group of boys. But he ran over with a studied smoothness, slowing down
perfectly as he came into the conversation so that it almost seemed
that he faded from a run to a stand.

"What is it coach?", George asked.

"Thor and you are going to race to see which one of you gets to run the
Riverside Meet."

"But, coach, you promised me I was going to run the Riverside Meet."
George said this without even looking at Thor.

"Yes, but I've studied the records and it seems to me that a race is
necessary."

"Okay, coach. Can I have a warm up lap?", said George.

"Sure, meet back here in five minutes."

While George ran his warm up lap, Thor sat by the side of the track
with his chin on his fist, thinking. He'd made up his mind long ago
that he was going to be a great runner and he wasn't going to let
anybody mess with his running technique. Despite the informal language
he used when discussing technique with Coach Goering, Thor had
carefully studied running technique and had decided on his own
method.

"I'm ready, coach", said George.

"Then we'll start early", Goering said, eyeing his watch. "Thor, you
take the inside lane. George, you take the far outside lane." When the
runners were situated by their blocks, he continued. "On your marks,
get ready, get set, go!" The pistol went off.

Thor responded to the pistol with a perfectly timed take off, as if he
had anticipated exactly when the pistol was going to go off. George had
a slower takeoff. Thor ran on the tips of his toes and was unable to
utilize the massive strength of his legs. George took a narrow lead and
held it till the final corner when Thor, despite his marred technique,
made a drive and easily won the race.

A week later, at the Riverside Meet, Thor leaned in the blocks. Side
by side, the track was filled with the best runners in the state. "Get
ready, get set, Go!" The pistol barked and Thor ran. He ran like a deer
without a care in the world. Unlike the other runners, he never looked
at his competitors but focused his eyes on his own lane. He leaned back
as he ran and was unconscious of his rebellion. He was as unconscious
as the deer that runs from the mountain lion or the mouse that runs
from the swooping hawk. And, somehow, with a grating style of running,
he was so graceful that the image of his run burned into the memories
of the massive audience in the stands. He was to remain in their
hearts, forever. When Thor crashed through the ribbon at the finish
line, the nearest runner was three seconds back. A spontaneous roar of
applause swept the crowd. The beautiful girls in the stands eyed Thor
longingly. Thor stumbled onto the grass and threw up.

Coach Goering came over to Thor, who was till leaning over and panting,
the taste of vomit in his mouth. "I can't believe it, you broke the
record, the national record."

"I ran how I wanted to run."

"You ran the wrong way. Just think of how much better you could have
done if you'd ran the right way."

"You don't enjoy running," was the stoic reply.