“You all right?” Manny asked.
“Yep ... no problem.”
Manny smiled. The hard rubber track felt great under his feet. This was what he was meant to do. “Gorgeous day,” he said.
Anthony just nodded.
They reached the front stretch and Manny ran a little faster. Anthony was running all-out now, but he kept up with Manny’s pace. Manny felt as light as a feather.
“You’re a speedy little rat,” Anthony said as they slowed to a walk. He wiped his brow with a sleeve. “We doing another lap?”
“Definitely.” Manny knew he could do at least ten more laps like that. “You can take a break after that. I’ll probably keep going.”
Anthony fell behind on the next sprint but caught up to Manny on the turn. “One more,” Anthony said, breathing hard. “Let’s make it a race.”
“You’re on.” Manny had barely worked up a sweat.
They jogged the last ten yards to the straightaway, then broke into a sprint. Anthony was able to stay close to Manny for a few seconds but then fell behind. Manny raised his arms at the finish line, making two fists and shouting, “Victory!”
“Right behind you!” said Anthony. He bent over with his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. “Whew,” he said. “That cold air burns the throat.”
“Felt good, though,” Manny said.
Anthony nodded. “Good start. But that’s enough for me.”
“I’ll keep going,” Manny said. “I feel strong. I’ll do two miles like that.”
“I’ll wait.”
Manny was fully warmed up now and decided to jog the turns instead of walking them. Anthony began walking’ around the track, and Manny caught up to him after running another lap.
“You need a drink?” Anthony asked.
“I will. When I finish.”
“What do you want? I’ll get us something.”
“A Gatorade would be good. You need money?”
“Nah, I got it. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Manny finished the workout and bounded up the metal bleachers, stopping at the top to look down the hill. There was the Hudson River, with the New York City skyline on the other side looking close enough to touch on this clear November day. Somewhere over there was the Armory Track and Field Center. He’d never heard of it before today, but now it was foremost in his mind.
What would it be like, racing against kids from all over the metropolitan area? He didn’t think there was anybody his age in Hudson City who could stay with him for a mile, but what about in Brooklyn or Queens or Hoboken? How good a runner was he?
Anthony had returned with the drinks, and Manny walked down to the track. “Great workout,” he said. “You’ve got some speed, Anthony. This is going to be a great winter.”
“I don’t know,” Anthony said. “You make it look so easy. What’d I run? 400 meters altogether. That ain’t so good.”
“We’ll keep at it,” Manny said. “I’m a distance runner. You can’t expect to run as far as I do. Little by little, you’ll get better.”
Anthony nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ll be out here again tomorrow. I’ll be ready when the season starts.”
“Me, too,” Manny said. “I can’t wait. This team is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”
3
Raisins
D
onald came over that night and played poker with Manny and Sal and their parents at the kitchen table. The boys often played for nickels and dimes, but Manny’s parents said they’d only play for raisins.
“What am I going to do with all those raisins I win?” Donald asked.
“Eat ’em,” Manny said.
“Five-raisin limit,” said Dad.
Donald rolled his eyes. “They aren’t even my raisins,” he said, taking a handful from the box.
“It’s just for fun,” Dad said, winking at Donald. “For the pure joy of the game.”
Mom shuffled the cards and dealt the first hand. “Deuces wild,” she said.
“Manny’s gonna be in the Olympics,” Sal said.
“That right?” said Dad.
Manny nodded. “One of the coaches is starting a track program. I already started working out.”
“That’s great,” said Mom. “You too, Donald?”
Donald winced. “I don’t know. Running isn’t my idea of fun.” He looked at his cards and changed their order. He pressed two fingers against his lips.
“Donald’s more of a thinker,” Manny said with a bit of sarcasm.
It was odd that Donald managed to stay as thin and wiry as Manny despite eating a ton and exercising as little as possible. He was a sharp contrast to Anthony, who worked out all the time but seemed to gain weight with every mouthful he ate.
“Track’s a good sport for a small guy,” Dad said. “Who else is on the team?”
“I don’t know. We don’t start practice for a couple of weeks. Anthony Martin’s going to be in the sprints.”
Donald set down his cards and stared at
Manny. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked.
“No.”
“What’s he gonna do? Roll along the track?”
“Real funny.” Manny turned to Sal. “Hold your cards so we can’t see them,” he said.
Little Sal brought his cards closer to his face and peered over them.
“Anthony works his butt off,” Manny said. “He ran with me this afternoon.”
“I could run circles around him,” Donald said.
“Maybe, if you tried,” Manny said. “Anthony’s pretty quick. And at least he’s out there doing it.”
Donald chewed on his lip and nodded. “You got me there.”
“You have two weeks to sign up,” Manny said.
“I’ll think about it.” Donald looked at Manny’s mom and pointed to the table. “Two,” he said, sliding two cards toward the dealer.
“Can I run with you tomorrow, Manny?” Sal asked.
“Sure. You can jog over with me. Want to join us, Donald? One o’clock at the track.”
Donald was frowning at the new cards he’d picked up and playing with a couple of raisins. “We’ll see,” he said. He looked up and smiled. “I’ll sleep on it tonight. You never know.”
Manny and Sal jogged along Central Avenue on Saturday afternoon. As they approached the high school track, they could see Anthony walking toward them. He waved and started jogging, too.
Sal hugged Anthony’s legs as they met and Anthony reached down and tickled him. “You gonna run with us, Sal?”
“Yeah. Manny said I could.”
“You’ll beat us by a mile,” Anthony said. “How are we supposed to keep up with a little pony like you?”
“He’ll take it easy on us, right Sal?” Manny said.
“No way. I’m
fast.
”
The afternoon was colder than the day before, but there was no wind at all. Sal was wearing big blue mittens and a shiny sweatsuit. Manny had black sweatpants and a long-sleeved red warm-up jersey from last year’s soccer team.
“My legs are sore from yesterday,” Anthony said. “Haven’t sprinted that far in a while. Probably never. ”
“Well, most of the indoor sprint races are about sixty meters, I think. So you’re already ahead of the game.”
Anthony nodded and started jogging as they reached the track. “I’ll take one easy lap to warm up,” he said. “Then we can get started.”
“Donald said he might show up,” Sal said.
“Yeah, well let’s not hold our breath waiting,” Manny said. “I’ve got a feeling Donald is at home watching a football game on TV.”
“Too bad for him,” said Sal. “He’s missing all the action right here.”
4
Digging Deep
T
wo weeks went by quickly. Manny and Anthony continued to work out most days, and other kids joined them a few times. But not Donald.
Twenty-six kids showed up for the first practice session. A few snowflakes were falling as Coach Alvaro greeted the athletes—sixteen boys and ten girls. Manny was glad to see Vinnie DiMarco and several others from the football team waiting in the bleachers.
“Welcome to the world’s most exciting sport,” Coach said, smacking his black mittens together. “How many of you have been in a track-and-field program before?”
Three of the girls raised their hands. None of the boys.
“I started running for a club when I was about your age, and I’ve been at it ever since,” Coach said. “There’s nothing like racing to your potential, digging deep and giving everything you’ve got.”
“What club?” asked one of the girls.
“The Shore Athletic Club,” Coach said. “I’m still a member, almost twenty years later.”
“You must be ancient,” said the girl. Manny’d had a few classes with her—Sherry Allegretta. She always had a wisecrack to make. And she’d always ignored Manny.
“I’m older than the hills,” Coach said with a smile, although he wasn’t even thirty. “That’s one great thing about track and field. There’s something for every age. Kids, high school, college, and way beyond that.”
“You ran in college?” Sherry asked.
“Yeah,” Coach said. “Rowan University in South Jersey.”
“Were you good?”
“Pretty good. All-American on a relay team. Now let’s see what you guys can do. Take two laps easy. Then we’ll stretch. Let’s go.”
“I’m a jumper, not a runner,” Sherry said.
“Jumpers need to run, too.”
Manny led the runners onto the track and began moving at a brisk pace. He was already warmed up from running over from home, and his excitement level was high.
Manny was several yards ahead of the next runners as he rounded the second turn. But as he ran along the front straightaway, he heard footsteps coming closer.
He glanced back and there was Sherry, gaining on him with every stride.
This isn’t a race,
Manny told himself.
Let her show off during the warm-up. Wait until we start training.
Sherry came up alongside Manny on the backstretch, and he increased his pace a bit so she wouldn’t pass. Sherry was about his height, with thick reddish hair that bounced on her shoulders as she ran. She was looking straight ahead, focused on the track.
As they rounded the final turn, Sherry began to sprint, pulling ahead of Manny as she moved into the second lane. Manny wasn’t about to let that continue. He opened his stride and began a near-sprint, moving back into the lead and finishing slightly ahead.
“Whoa,” Coach said as they slowed to a walk. “That was supposed to be a warm-up, guys. Save some of that fire for the workout.”
“No problem,” Manny said, but he was breathing rapidly. “I always sprint at the end of a warm-up.”
Coach smiled. “I thought you weren’t a runner, Sherry,” he said.
“You never know,” she replied. “You need speed on the long-jump runway. And maybe I’ll do some racing.”
“You look like a natural.”
“I used to be a gymnast,” she said. “Got tired of that.”
Manny stared at Sherry. She glanced back with what seemed like a bit of an edge, but then looked away and began to stretch, reaching for her ankles and shutting her eyes. She was faster than most of the boys. And the back of her sweatshirt said GET USED TO THE VIEW.
The other runners were finishing now, with Anthony jogging in with the final group. Coach told everyone to spread out near the finish line, and he led them through a series of stretches.
“Today we’ll all work out together,” he said, “until we figure out the best events for everybody. In a few days we’ll break into two groups—sprinters, jumpers, and throwers in one; middle- and long-distance runners in the other. But there’ll be lots of overlap. Sprinters need endurance, and distance runners need speed.”
“Will the girls run with the boys?” Sherry asked.
“Yes. In the meets, boys and girls will compete separately, but we’ll all train together. Everybody has different strengths and weaknesses. You’ll all gain by training with the others.”
Manny kept his eyes on the coach, but he knew Sherry was looking at him. She seemed very competitive. He’d have to work his butt off to stay ahead of her. Losing to a girl would not be cool.
“Today we’ll do 200-meter runs, with a 200-meter jog between,” Coach said. “That’s half the track, and it’s a basic workout distance. We’ll do four of them, gradually building speed so the last one is an all-out sprint.”
He split the group in two, with Manny joining Sherry, Vinnie DiMarco, and some others in what was obviously the faster section. DiMarco had been the quarterback on the football team, and he had good speed.
“Fun, huh?” Manny said to Zero Rollison as they jogged toward the starting line.
“Should be,” Zero said. Zero had been given his nickname way back in first grade, when the teacher made a list on the blackboard of kids who were fooling around in class and would have to stay in for recess for two days. M.R. for Manny, D.J. for Donald, Z.Ra. for Zach Raymond, and Z.Ro. for Zach Rollison. Even as first graders, the kids were quick to pick up on that. He’d been Zero ever since.
“Steady pace, now,” Coach said as the runners got ready. “The idea is to finish the workout as strong as you started.” He blew his whistle and they took off.
Manny, Vinnie, and Sherry were tightly bunched as they came off the turn and onto the straightaway.
“Steady!” Coach yelled.
Manny stayed steady, but he made sure that he held the lead. His quick strides brought him down the track, pumping his arms and pulling ahead of the others as he glided through the finish.
“You’ve got great form, Manny,” Coach said as the runners approached the starting line for the next one. “Sherry, try to relax your shoulders a bit. Vinnie, stop gritting your teeth.”
Manny finished first in the next two intervals, but he was winded. No way would he let up now. The final 200-meter run would be an all-out race. Everybody would be gunning for that one.
DiMarco took off like lightning, and Sherry was right behind him. It was all Manny could do to stay ahead of Zero on the turn, but as they reached the straightaway, his endurance paid off. Zero fell behind, and Manny shifted into the second lane and drew even with Sherry. Now he drove into a full sprint, and that effort carried him ahead of her. DiMarco’s lead was too much to overcome, but Manny was gaining. He crossed the finish line just inches behind.