Running's Everything

Jake remembered some important runs in his life, but this next one would be the most significant. It feels like every other run, every other moment, was leading up to this.

Running had been Jake's life; now, it may be the last thing he does.

Jake met his future wife in high school at their first cross country track meet. Tall for his age, Jake was lean at the time—gangly even—and didn't care for most competitive sports; he was only in competition with himself. That is, until he met Laura.

Jake did everything he could to win her attention by being the fastest in each race, each run they practiced as a class. It didn't work. The problem with being out in front is there's no one there with you. Jake began to slow down in order to be closer to Laura, to possibly talk to her one day. For some reason, he felt shy around her when he'd never had trouble in the past with girls. 

One day, Laura confronted Jake on the pretext of him intentionally running slow. “It’s insulting,” she said. “Everyone knows you're the fastest in school.”

Jake had never thought of it that way and admitted such. “I was only trying to get close to you so we could talk… but not like this.” Jake waved his arms around to emphasize his point and embarrassment. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be weird. I was just… nervous.”

Laura was confused. “Nervous? Of me?”

Jake was also confused. “You're intimidating.”

“What?” Laura actually laughed. “I'm not intimidating.”

“Now who's being insulting? You're the smartest, fastest, and most beautiful girl in school!”

Laura didn't seem to think so and said as much.

“Can I take you out on a date, then?” Jake asked. “Maybe I can change your mind.”

“Where do you want to go for dinner?”

“You'll see. Meet me at the park with your running shoes. Be ready to go.”

Laura's face fell a bit. Running? “Just tell me where and when I guess.”

Laura and Jake met at Central Park. “It helps me clear my mind,” Jake explained. “I think if we went for a run together, it'd help me not be so nervous. We can talk while we go, and then we'll hit up one of my favorite food carts. If you don't like me by the end, no hard feelings, okay?”

Laura agreed. It didn't seem like such a bad idea anyway.

They ran. And while they ran, they saw the sights of Central Park with the city of New York all around them. They saw swans in the lake since they were in season; they heard the animals in the zoo in the distance; Central Park was alive with the usual bustle of activity.

While they ran, they talked. Jake talked about his childhood, his family, and his hopes and dreams. He wanted to be a firefighter, like his dad. He said it ran in the family, kind of like running. Jake laughed at his own joke. “We do marathons as a family. Or used to…” Jake trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

Laura knew not to ask, but Jake finished his thought aloud. “Mom passed away from cancer. She kept running with us, even after her diagnosis. Doctors say it's why she lasted so long.” Jake wiped away a tear. “Whew, this is way too much for a date,” Jake feigned a laugh. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Laura said. “I think I just met the real you. Most of the guys that ask me out just try to impress me with dinner or buying me things. You accidentally just bared your soul.”

“That bad, huh?”

Laura smiled. “Not so bad. I'm sorry about your mom. If it helps any, my mom's mostly an alcoholic so I don't get to see much of her, even if she's always at home.”

“I'm sorry, too.” Jake paused a moment. “Dad?”

“Split.”

After that day, Jake and Laura dated and became running partners. It helped them get through some of their hardest times like college, Jake’s firefighter certification, marriage, the death of Jake's dad and shortly after Laura’s mom, and the birth of their daughter Abigail.

As of September 11, 2001, Jake and Laura had been married for eight years. Jake pulled down his oxygen mask and checked that his tank was mixing in air properly—it was.

Someone tapped on his shoulder—Alex, one of his firefighter buddies. Jake was being told that the teams were being sectioned off by areas to search. There would be a team searching the basement—only five floors to comb. Laura had just given birth to Abigail a few months back. There would be no shame in asking to be sent with that team. Alex would go in his stead.

Jake shook his head. It didn't make sense to send anyone but one man to the 107th floor where the observation deck was. That person could radio down to a lower unit if they needed help. “I can do it. I've basically been training for this my whole life.”

Floor by floor, he went, running past other crews deploying down various hallways to search for anyone who needed help. The stairwells were chaos, people screaming as they fled downward to safety while firefighters few bravely went upward. Jake continued, on and on, going as quick as he could. 

He was somewhere around the 70th floor—alone—when his radio crackled to life. “Jake, listen to me, it's Alex.”

“Alex, Jake, go.”

“The first tower just went down. We’re evacuating the building. You have to get out of there now.”

“What was that?” Jake looked around, not believing the words he was hearing. He exited the stairwell and onto the next floor so he could look out the window towards Tower One. It was gone, a column of smoke and ash filled the spot it once stood.

“I repeat, the first town just collapsed. You have to get out of there, Jake!” Alex screamed.

Jake took a deep breath, already winded from coming up this far. He wasn't going to make it. But having run, his body pulsed with the flow of his blood and brought on a strange sort of peace. He was troubled that he was leaving his wife and daughter behind. Laura would be devastated.

You can't run forever.

“Alex.”

“Go, Jake.”

“Tell Laura that one my last run, she was right here with me, just like our first. Tell her I'm sorry and that I tried to do some good today.”

“I will, Jake, but—” 

Jake doesn't hear anything else above the explosion of twisting metal collapsing under unsustainable weight. Jake closes his eyes as he become weightless, his body pulsing with life even as it's about to end. For Jake, running had been everything.