What's next?
By Harrison’s senior year of high school, it had become a common question: “What’s next?” There was no clear plan. His life had been school and running. Art and music were major focuses. He expressed interest in continuing his education, and running for a college team. College had always been my highest hope for him, but was this realistic, when several people had suggested a group home?
Also, I had been his coach for his entire high-school career. Could he adapt to another coach’s methods? Could another coach adapt to him? He’d not done anything spectacular as a high-school athlete but I also knew he was a late bloomer and that the potential was there. Some of the unconventional coaching methods I’d used with him might make it difficult for him to conform to another coach’s program. Also, running for a college would require a focus on academics, and traditional subjects were not his favorites. Nevertheless, he actually had earned 12 credit hours of early college while in high school, scoring A’s in Introduction to Engineering and Design I and II, Philosophy 101 and Ethics 101.
Harrison’s running career really began in sixth grade after the school's coach suggested he go out for the middle school cross-country team. I’d never considered at that point that Harrison would ever be on a school sports team, but when he said he wanted to do this, I was all in. I’d never considered this would lead me to being a coach myself. As those first after-school practices wore on, it became clear that I would need to be around in case Harrison had a meltdown. Before the season was out, Head Coach Jack Swartz was referring to me as “Coach Hal,” and I was starting to help the other kids as well as Harrison during practices and meets, and even substituted as assistant coach for one meet. During that same year I found myself in heated discussions with teachers about equitable grading, and experienced Harrison being escorted out of the school by sheriffs deputies for physically striking teachers and ultimately lunging at the principal. I had experienced so many lows that his running seemed to provide the only balance to an otherwise gloomy outlook on life. I was also reckoning with the fact that my lifelong career in print journalism was in a spiral with the decline brought on by the Internet. Mary had taken on the role as main wage-earner while I was literally now an unwilling and unpaid caregiver and working freelance side jobs both an editor and a ranch hand.
The running component had at least provided the potential for fun, though there were many setbacks along the way. A successful race could provide a glimmer of hope to a story that appeared headed toward a depressing future. I’ll never forget his first track meet in Mosca when I drove nearly three hours not knowing if he would have the focus to stay in his lane for one lap around the track in the 400-meter dash. But he did. There was a meet in Salida where he finished a race and smacked a clipboard out of one of the volunteer’s hands. Two friends — Tom Sobal and Curtis Imrie — and I formed a huddle around him and moved him off the field. It was cold, and when he emerged he was wearing Curtis’ Leadville Loppet beanie, which we still have.
In another meet he stopped and ran backwards, then freaked out. A group of runners from another school’s team came to the rescue encouraging him to continue, and he did — finishing the race and running away after crossing the finish line. It seemed the running community was his tribe and there were always angels ready to jump in and help him succeed.
The Blur Goes to College is a free serialized book. Please subscribe to receive future chapters delivered by email. If you would like to support our writing you may do so by upgrading to a paid subscription, or by making a donation via Venmo @Hal-Walter (phone# 8756).