“Same tactics you recommended before?”
“A few tweaks based on her recent practice times,” he said, and he dug in his pocket for a stopwatch.
Jannie had pulled the inside third lane. Claire Mason, the Maryland state champion and future Stanford athlete, was two wide in the fifth slot.
Whatever frustration and hurt Jannie might have been feeling on the ride to Baltimore appeared to be bottled and corked when the race starter called the young women to their marks. Our girl went to the blocks bouncing, shaking her arms, and rolling her head, all the while staring into the middle distance.
McDonald lowered his binoculars, said, “She’s good.”
I thought so too. She looked like the old Jannie out there, especially when she smiled after the starter said, “Set.”
At the pistol crack, my daughter came out of the blocks well, more smooth power than explosive. Her stride lengthened, her legs found a relaxed cadence, and her arms were driving fluidly by the end of the first straight. She ran the curve cleanly and confidently, no sign of foot pain.
Exiting onto the backstretch, Jannie was exactly where she’d been in the previous race, in fourth, just off the shoulder of the girl in third, with Claire Mason leading by two body widths. But there was no move for the front. Jannie stayed right in her groove through the second curve and back up the near straightaway.
“Nice,” her coach said, clicking his stopwatch as she flashed by. “I like that number a whole lot.”
Claire Mason tried to run away with it coming out of the third turn, but the three athletes chasing her, including Jannie, reeled the state champion in down the backstretch. They were running in a tight bunch entering the final, far turn.
“Well done,” McDonald said, watching through his binoculars. “Now gallop for home, girlie-girl.”
Jannie seemed to hear her coach’s words in her head because he’d no sooner said them than she found another gear. She passed the girl in third and was right off the shoulder of the athlete in second coming out of the last curve.
I couldn’t help it; I started yelling, “C’mon, Jannie!”
Damon shouted, “Show them who’s boss, sis!”
My daughter did something then that I hadn’t seen since the foot injury. Her gait became more like bounding, and she blew by the girl in second place and bore down on Claire Mason with thirty yards to go. Mason gave a backward glance, saw Jannie coming, and ran in fear. But even sheer terror wouldn’t have helped the state champ’s cause that day.
With fifteen yards remaining, Jannie caught Mason. She was a full body width ahead at the wire.
CHAPTER
63
JANNIE SLOWED, LAUGHED, and threw her arms up to the sky. Damon cheered. I whooped and hollered and felt better than I had in days. Poor Claire Mason looked shell-shocked; she was a senior heading to a top track program, and she’d been bested by a junior just back from a long time off for a foot injury.
McDonald clapped when Jannie came up a few moments later.
“That is exactly how you do it,” he said, giving her a high five. “The win’s nice. So is beating Mason. But I’m prouder of you for being a disciplined and smart athlete.”
Beaming, Jannie said, “It worked staying just off them. I felt like I had a lot in the tank when it counted.”
“Sometimes I do know what I’m talking about,” McDonald said, and he winked at her. “Enjoy the moment. I’ll talk to you Monday.”
“Leaving already?” Damon asked.
“Noon flight to Dallas,” he said, and he looked to Jannie. “Ice bath ASAP.”
Jannie groaned. “I hate ice baths.”
“But she’ll do it,” I said.
After we’d left Damon to his studies, Jannie was bubbling with excitement as she got into the car and for half the way home. Then she checked her cell phone and got quiet again.
“They giving you a hard time?”
For several moments Jannie did not reply, but then she said, “They’re idiots, Dad. They don’t know you like I know you, so I think it’s time I do some serious de-friending and maybe take a week or two vacation from all social media, even Snapchat and Instagram.”