Running Away

A Story by Brendan

Darren Is 12, going through one the most heart wrenching and continous problems in the mondern family; divorce. He copes by spending his time by himself and running. But an unlikely hero helps him.

Left. Right. In. out. As Darren exhaled, he could see his breath came from his mouth as smoke. The pattern of his running kept going through the head of the 12-year-old boy. Left. Right. In. out. Having run this loop so many times before, his lanky feet steered him along the rigid road through twists and turns, hills, and slopes. Left. Right. In. out. This pattern was the only thought on his mind, which allowed no thoughts to stop it from reaching his never-ending goal: keep running.

Darren Riddle had done this every day for three months. He barely ever said a word on these runs that lasted 30 minutes when people passed. He was not a man of words and would simply nod in acknowledgment if someone waved. Left. Right. In. out. As Darren took a right onto Hill Street, He noticed a man in a wheelchair trying to garden. The expression on his face seemed dejected as he struggled to pick the plants off the ground. Darren watched as he passed and lost his focus. Shaking himself, Darren once again focused back to running and left the paraplegic man in the outskirts of his head. Left. Right. In. out.

Darren arrived back at his house sweaty and sore. Breathing heavily, he walked through the house as if trying no to be noticed.

“Hi Darren. I made you some spaghetti. It’s on the counter…. Darren?” Ignoring his mother, he hustled up the stairs and into his room and collapsed onto his bed. He began to take his shoes off, as he looked at a picture on his nightstand of him and his father. They held baseball gloves and seemed to be in the middle of a catch when the photo was taken. A flood of memories came back to Darren. He and his father playing baseball, Christmas morning opening presents, and eating at the dinner table together. A loud jingle shattered the flashback and Darren regained attention and realized that his phone is ringing. Seeing “Mark” on the caller ID, he picked up the phone and says “Hey what’s up Mark?”

“Hey man, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight. Got this new video game, need someone to help me break it in.”

Darren, racking his brain for excuses, answered, “Sorry man, I got a load of homework to do. Maybe next week?”

“Come on man! We haven’t hung out in forever. I’m worried. Ever since….”

But before Mark finished the sentence, Darren interrupted and blurted out, “See you later!” and hung up on his friend leaving Mark by himself on the line. It was true that Darren hadn’t seen his best friend in a long time. He just felt that he needed to be alone. Darren sometimes enjoyed the silence. It was a place to ponder over thoughts without being interrupted. A place where he could recall memories of fun and happy times instead of trying to make new ones. Darren had been told to talk to someone if he was feeling bad but to him, silence was a cure. Unfortunately, this did not work for Darren this time. After more and more pondering, the pain became worse in his mind.

Later that night, Darren was solving a very hard word problem for homework. Already finished with an hour’s worth of science and history notes, he was drained of energy and it seem that his mind couldn’t function properly. Yet, he still had to write an English paper. He rubbed his head in agony and his stomach let out a startling grumble warning him that his food resources were indeed depleting. This gave him another reason to take a break and as if on cue, a yell came from the opening of the stairs, “DARREN! COME EAT YOUR DINNER!” Not wanting to get his mother angrier, he hurtled toward the stairs as fast as he could.

“We need to talk, Darren Riddle,” his mother said seriously. Darren rolled his eyes headed for the stairs with his dish, not wanting to hear his mother’s lectures.

“Sit down it’s just a talk.” Darren reluctantly headed back toward the table and sat down.

“Now it has been hard on you since your father and I have spilt up but I think its unhealthy that…” Darren’s mind once again led him away from his mother’s scolding. His heart ripped at the mentioning of his father. Darren had not seen his father in three months and had only been on the phone with him for a few simple moments.

“Darren is there anything you need, talk to me, we can figure this out together.”

Darren answered with, “I can deal with it on my own. I don’t need your help! Just leave me alone!” And then he raced up to his room, leaving his mother standing in the kitchen, dead silent.

Darren sat on his bed listening to music, close to ten at night. He looked at the alarm clock and realized he still had to write the English paper. He hurried over to his laptop and began typing the paper. It was close to eleven when he was done, but he was still irate about his fight with his mom. As he climbed into bed, he realized he may have been flipping on his mother many times over the last three months, but he believed that it was much deserved.

Left. Right. In. out. Fifteen minutes through his run, his pace was the same as it had been when he started even though his legs were on the verge of giving in. He once again turned the corner onto Hill Street. The crisp wind blew is hair and the drops of sweat away from his face. Once again, Darren spotted the man in the wheel chair. This time he was playing fetch with his dog. Darren watched as the man threw the ball and the dog scampered after it and brought it back obediently. Spotting Darren, he waved and smiled. He waved back but does not give much of a smile to the man. Then he turned his head and left the man by himself with his dog.

This happened consistently during Darren’s runs now. Yet after a week, he had not uttered a word to man. It was not that Darren was scared to talk to strangers, but he was shy and still not coping well with his father. In fact his behavior had not changed at all.

Then on another cold day, Darren was passing Hill Street when he saw the man struggling with taking the trash to the end of the driveway. Ignoring his mind to keep telling him to run and the beat he so desperately clang to, he walked over to help the man. Seeing him Darren asks, “Would you like any help with that sir?”

The man looked over and smiled as Darren took the trashcan. “Thank you so much. I’m Roger. Who are you?”

He shakes Roger’s hand and replies, “ I’m Darren. How are you?”

“Not so good.” Roger answered shaking his head, “Ever since the accident every thing has been so much harder. Thing I could have done in my sleep are now impossible.”

“What did you do?” Darren asked. Immediately after asking the question he went red and looked at his shoes, knowing it was a very rude question to ask. Instead of scolding him though, Roger laughed and said, “Don’t worry about it kid, I should probably tell someone. I was a marathon runner; ran all day and all night, like you from what I have seen. I even made it to the Olympics!” Darren’s mouth dropped. “And I did pretty well if I don’t say so myself. Here let me get something for you.” Roger quickly wheeled himself through his garage and came out holding an old shoebox. When he reached Darren again, he opened and took out a picture of a muscular man running in an USA tracksuit.

“That was me during the Olympics. I would give anything to look like that again.”

“How did you do?” Darren asked excitedly. Roger then took out another piece of memorabilia from his running days. Darren’s mouth dropped to the ground. There in front of him was an Olympic gold medal.

All he could manage to say was “wow.”

Roger laughed and said “Yes, that is exactly what I thought when I won it.”

“But you see Darren, it all went down hill from there. I had run so much my legs were broken beyond fixing. Shin splints, tendonitis, knee problems, you name it. I had it all. It would kill me to me to walk and the doctor told me I couldn’t run any more which probably had the worst toll on me. They put me in this wheel chair and my life became a wreck. I had no job, no friends or anything, just a memory of glory. My life was slipping away faster then I could have imagined and I didn’t care because I couldn’t do what I loved: run. One day I looked at myself in the mirror and was disgusted. I realized I needed to move on and I did. I went to school got a good job and went to physical therapy for my legs where I met my wife the doctor who helped me. Everyday when I saw you running, you remind me of myself but I’m not sad anymore. I rolled with the punches of life and I am where I am supposed to be.”

Darren bid Roger a goodbye and set out for home. Left. Right. In. out. His pattern went through his head but he was not focusing on it. Instead, in his mind, Darren was looking at himself through a mirror.

When Darren got home, he immediately went to his mother and hugged her and was on the verge of crying. He apologized for everything that he had done and explained he was just upset about his father leaving. His mother hugged him back and replied to him, “Darren, its ok! I was so worried about you! You were always in your room or running. That is just not healthy!”

“I know mom, and I won’t, but first I have to make a call.” Darren ran up to his room and picked up his phone and dialed a number.

“Hey Mark! We haven’t hung out in forever! I will be at you place at five tomorrow. Does that sound ok? Alright see you there.’

Darren flopped onto to his bed. He exhaled deeply as if a forty-pound weight had been on his shoulders. He suddenly felt exhausted and was asleep in minutes happily dreaming.

The next day, Darren woke up and tied his running shoes and set out for Hill Street, but instead of running he walked with a smile on his face. Never before had he realized how beautiful the setting was. Seeing Roger as he had hoped, he waved at him and asked, “ Do you want to go for a walk?” Roger smiled, nodded, and followed Darren up the street.

Their laughs were blown into the wind just as Darren’s pattern blew away like a leaf in a storm, never seen again. Left. Right. In. out.