Beneath the Weight of Sadness by Gerald L. Dodge

Author:Gerald L. Dodge [Dodge, Gerald L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2014-01-28T16:00:00+00:00

Ethan

Twelve days after Truman’s death

Amy and I began to run when I was in my late twenties and Amy must’ve been twenty-five. She started first, and because I saw such a difference in the new energy she displayed, I started to run with her. Only a mile or so at first, but as we got stronger the distance increased. Again, Amy was the one who decided we should run road races. I was reluctant. I’d seen how adults begin to obsess over hobbies—silly, logoed clothing to bike; intense, pencil-thin runners; rock climbers with long hair and tanned, muscular calves.

But when we went to our first race, with a promise from Amy that she’d buy me an expensive dinner and copious amounts of beer, I liked the environment. Not everyone was intense; many people were just there to have fun, meet people, shed some pounds. Of course, the gazelles were there, returning to the start line before Amy and I had even reached the mile-and-a- half mark.

But we got better. We got stronger. Sometimes we took Truman. Amy and I had designated runners. Before the race we’d designate who’d go with Truman. The other one of us would go at our own pace or stay with Truman for a while and then run on. And he would run along with us, his head wagging back and forth, thinking Truman thoughts until he’d get so involved in whatever he was thinking he’d stop, almost causing collisions. It was a nice thing for us to do together, though, like everything with Tru, it was difficult to tell how much he enjoyed the events. He wasn’t a complainer. Never. We just often wondered what he was thinking. He hardly ever told us.

One weekend the three of us headed down to Red Bank, New Jersey, for the George Sheehan Classic. It was a 10k race, our first of that distance. We drove down on a Friday early in the afternoon. Truman had been raised on Cape Cod beaches, and had never seen dramatic waves, so we knew this would be a new adventure for him. We were curious to see how Tru would respond.

I remember Amy had secured a hotel room early on because, had we relied on me, I’d have procrastinated until all the rooms were taken and we’d have had to drive down and back the day of the race. Once we settled into our room, we decided to get into our bathing suits and drive to the local beach. I don’t recall the name, but I do recall we were lucky to find a parking spot.

As we got out of the car we could hear the waves crashing on the shore. The weather was typical New Jersey summer fare: hot, opaque skies, white moisture as part of the scenery and humid.

We’d brought our towels and sun lotion and little else. Truman was not the kind of kid who wanted shovels or trucks; he would find his own entertainment. Amy and I each took a book and a few for Tru if he got bored.

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