Linda's New Friend

Linda sat on the bottom step of the front porch and double-tied the laces of her running shoes. She glanced across the street and saw the old man with the cane sitting on his front porch, watching her again. Her family had moved to the neighborhood only recently, and to Linda, it was still a strange and awkward place. "Have a good run." The old man gestured with his cane as she jogged past his house. She returned his wave, allowing him only a quick glance. The three miles melted away in the joyous exhilaration that always washed over her as she ran. Rounding the corner of her street, her eyes strayed to the old man, waiting patiently for her return.

"Just watch this," she thought, as she exploded into a sprint. She felt his eyes track her as she concentrated on releasing every ounce of her strength and speed.

"When you're nearing the end, lift your knees higher in your kick and you'll increase your power." Who was he to be giving her advice? She paused and, for the first time, looked him fully in the face. She was surprised to see a kind, wistful man, with gentle laughter lines in his face. "I guess you don't need my advice," he continued. "I can see you're pretty fast already. What's your event?"

"I like the two-hundred meters," Linda answered, "but I run whatever the coach wants me to." She took a step closer and extended her hand. "I'm Linda Jackson."

"Glad to meet you, Linda. I'm Bill Carr. When I was about your age, I used to run a little. My event was the four-hundred meters."

Just then a gray-haired woman appeared in the doorway. "I'm Judith Carr, Linda. Would you care to come in for some lemonade?" Linda followed them into the house, and Mrs. Carr filled lemonade glasses. Linda noticed the late afternoon sun glinting off a shiny object on the wall. She moved closer and saw it was a medallion on an old, faded ribbon. For a moment she did not grasp its significance, but gasped audibly when she did. She looked to see if the Carrs had heard her. The small brass plate below the medal read, "Los Angeles, 1932. 400 meters. William Carr, United States of America. 46.2 seconds, World Record." The old man had won an Olympic Gold Medal! Linda could not believe her eyes. She looked at the old man, trying to visualize him as the fastest runner in the world. Mr. Carr seemed to sense her puzzlement.

"That was a long time ago, Linda. A car accident ended my running." They sat on the front porch and talked the afternoon away. Linda felt more at home in her new neighborhood when she finally crossed the street toward home.

The next morning she sat back in her chair and closed the sports almanac. It was all there—the story of his unexpected win and the shattering accident only weeks later. The article told what he had done, but it did not tell who he was. Yes, he was Bill Carr, world record holder, but to her he was more. He was a new friend.