In Search of Happiness by John Spender

Author:John Spender [Spender, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781925919011
Publisher: MotionMediaInternational
Published: 2019-04-26T04:00:00+00:00

“If you want something, go get it period. “

~ Chris Gardner

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE TASTE OF DIRT

By Sadie Konrad

I fell. For about the thirteenth time that day, I fell. I didn’t see the gash on my knee, and I couldn’t hear the onlookers asking if I was okay. All I could see was that accursed finish line, an ideal example for the phrase “so close and yet so far,” as it sat at the bottom of the hill with about a mile of twisting red-dirt switchbacks to get there.

This was the spring of my senior year of high school, and I was a cross-country mountain bike racer. I was on a team with about forty other riders from my school, and we competed against racers from all across the state. It was the first race of my final season with the league, and I was coming in dead last. Now, I’m not talking photo-finish last. I’m talking last as in so-far-behind-that-people-thought-you-died last, or as in the-vendors-are-packing-and-leaving last.

Our local Southern California sun was coming down in full swing, with the brush and twigs along the paths being the kind of dry that causes the whole environment to latch onto your shorts and socks, and the heat being so that your skin becomes burnt just by sitting near a window. I was shaking and crying, covered so thickly in a tan dust that you could hardly see the red of my racing jersey, as I fumbled helplessly with my bike chain. It had fallen off its track and had become lodged between the gears. I frantically tried to rip it loose, knowing that the god-forsaken finish line was just a few hundred feet away now. Spectators on the side tried desperately to give me instructions in an attempt to save me from a nearing emotional shutdown as my grease-covered gloves tugged and pried at the gears to no avail.

It hadn’t always been this way, I assure you. Not to say that it was never hard because it always was. But the added misery and shame was a new feature of race day. In years past, I was a strong athlete, sometimes even vying for one of the top placements, with the leader’s podium always a little closer to grasp. I was happy being out there among the dirt and the rocks, and I was even happy to come home with a few scrapes every now and again. I was happy doing something where I felt so in control, yet so not in control, where everything could change in an instant. It was the thrill of the unknown, that’s what I was racing for. The chance of falling short or the possibility of surpassing everyone’s expectations and absolutely soaring. Granted, I was never a star by any means. Still, though, I was at one point so, so close to the top.

But I fell.

And when you fall from that high up, you land in a crumpled ball of a person in the dirt, looking up at the sky at all you could have had.

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