Taking Midway comes out tomorrow. I almost forgot. I mean, not really. I get paid on publication, which makes it worth remembering. It's getting great reviews. Also nice. But almost a year has passed since I finished. That's the nature of this game. You write a book. Make it the best you can. Then wait and wait and wait until it goes into stores.
That's not why May 20 crept up on me…
This week is Trinity League finals for track and field. Frosh-soph and JV race Tuesday. Varsity on Friday. I may have been enormously busy over the last four months, or maybe just distracted, but the end of the season is coming way too fast. May will bring the section and championship races but the majority of my runners will be done by Friday.
Somewhere in a New York City recording studio, a team of professionals is recording the audio version of Taking Midway. I receive periodic updates, mostly about pronunciations, though I'm on the other side of the country. I'm spending the morning doom scrolling in the chemo ward, wondering if I should wander over to the cafeteria for a bold cup of coffee or just drink the ordinary stuff from the machine. The wifi isn't so good, so I use my phone as a hotspot. In typing that last sentence I learned that hot and spot make one word instead of two.
In light of the shit show in the Oval Office the other day, the historian in me is tempted to write at length about Ronald Reagan rolling over in his grave. But that line is as close as I'll come. Instead, I'm watching Black Labrador reels on Insta, among them a very cute story about a dog who looks very much like my Sadie on her way to Starbucks for a pup cup. Just can't get enough of Black Labs. The algorithm knows this. I get constant Springsteen and Lab reels as I scroll, which lifts my spirits in these uncertain times.
Yes, it's escapist.
Track season started yesterday. The weather was glorious, the sort of sunshine-y, not-too-hot-not-cold day that reminded me why I love living in Southern California. Mother Saddleback loomed in the distant background as runners circled the track in their new singlets and shorts. The race announcer backed out at the last minute so I was on the mic. This put me in the position of amiable commentator, calling out each race and its contestants while also turning off the sound so I could coach my runners as they passed. Tacos and Co. sold burritos for lunch, which meant that I bought mine at 10:15 to beat the rush. Carnitas with spicy red sauce.
Cross country season is over. Twenty-four weeks of training and racing came to an end yesterday at the California State Meet. My girls team took third place in our division and made the podium. It was a hard-fought conclusion to the double days, Saturday long runs, summer camp, and those many days in between that make for the consistency needed to become a champion.
The girls were ecstatic. I felt the glow of a top finish and did a little jig. Made it home from Fresno and downloaded to Calene about the great weekend until I was talked out. She listened patiently, then resumed watching SVU. My queen loves her murder mysteries.
My Thanksgiving week began Saturday at precisely 9:24 in the morning. I was standing atop Reservoir Hill at Mt, San Antonio College cross country course. My girls team was racing for their Southern California division title. The fifth and final scoring runner crossed the finish line at 32 seconds past the minute.
Reservoir is a lofty viewpoint, allowing coaches to not only cheer for their runners as they make their climb to the summit, but also follow their progress back down the hill into the stadium for the finish. I was frantically refreshing the Finished Results app to get a final score….
Our town backs up to the local mountains. Some cities have houses facing the sea. We have Mother Saddleback staring at our backyards. Fire ravaged the steep areas on the very edges of Rancho Santa Margarita a few months ago, burning all the way to the summit and up the slopes of the valley on the other side for miles. Last Wednesday Santa Ana winds roared through the pass connecting our town with cities on the other side of Saddleback.
