School Story:
I ran track and cross country, unhappily, for all four years of high school. I earned a letter in cross country, barely, but this entitled me to attend Varsity Club events in the cafeteria on Friday mornings with the other athletes. I remember these meetings only as an occasion to eat donuts and cream-filled pastries, one after another, creating a sugar high that lasted well into second period. By late morning and early afternoon, lettered athletes in all of my classes began to nod off as their blood sugar waned.
Duke Edwards, the track coach, always provided the adrenaline that would wake me from the daze at practice after school. He often yelled. He often yelled at me. From time to time during a race he would scream, "Hey, Ballenger, you're not that bad!" I did not find this motivating. Of all the demands Coach Edwards made, the most memorable was the his insistence that we not sully the corners of the underground track with spit. He called them "ten-pound greenies." This is an image I've carried with me all of these years, and in my worst nightmares I am blindly wandering into a dark corner of that underground track, my Adidas lose traction, and I do a face plant. Thanks Coach.
