The race

"You cannot run." The doctor spoke with finality, and Joan did not like his tone. Still, she had discovered that one should never contradict male doctors because they became more convinced that they were right and the patient was wrong.

"Can you tell me why?" she asked. It was better to ask a question. Male doctors loved answering questions.

"Osteogenesis Imperfecta", said the doctor, without looking up from his clipboard.

"In English please," said Joan.

"Alright," said the doctor. "You have bones that break easily. If you run, there is the possibility that you could break hundreds of bones."

"Alright then," said Joan. "You say there's a possibility?" To Joan, a possibility meant that there was some hope. She loved running. When she ran, she could taste the salt of her own sweat on her tongue. She knew that was odd to some people, but she surmised that alcoholics missed the flavor of beer or wine in their mouths.

"You'll need a referral for physical therapy," said the doctor. "I'll also give you some exercises to do."

Joan frowned. "After physical therapy and doing the exercises, I don't see why I can't get back to running."

It was the doctor's turn to frown. "If you ignore facts, you will endanger your health."

"That'll be the day," said Joan.

"What's that?" said the doctor.

It was a quote from Joan's favorite John Wayne movie, but she knew most medical professionals wouldn't know that.

"Nothing," she said, and ran a hand through her hair.

*****

When she woke up from a nap, she thought that, perhaps, she had dreamed that something was wrong with her bones.

"Are you hungry?" said her husband. "You haven't had anything to eat all day.

"If I'm not running, I can't eat," said Joan.

Her husband sighed. "It's a physical impossibility that you can't eat."

Joan rolled over on the sofa to face away from the bay windows. "Maybe so, but you know what I mean."

It was a cloudy day and her husband, William, flipped on the living room lights. "Do you need to call the doctor?"

"Why?" said Joan, rolling her eyes. "Is there something wrong with me?"

William was used to her sarcasm, and didn't miss a beat. "No, you're absolutely perfect."

"What you mean is that I am acting anorectic," said Joan.

"All I meant is that you might need a little extra help, that's all." William walked into the kitchen. "Do you want me to make some pizza?"

Pizza is at least 300 calories a piece, thought Joan. "No," she said. "I'll eat something later."

"Right", said her husband. They both knew that she wouldn't.

*****

The memory of running was a powerful thing, thought Joan, as she signed up for the charity 5k at work.

"Good for you," said her ancient co-worker, Elaine.

"It's for a good cause," said Joan. Fuck you, she thought. Fuck well-meaning people. Didn't they always reinforce her unhealthy patterns of behavior?

"I agree," said her therapist, later, "that other people can reinforce unhealthy behavior patterns. However, I think it would be wise to remember that, ultimately, you are in control of creating healthier patterns of behavior for yourself."

The next morning, Joan ran 3 miles. "Everything hurts," she thought. "Fuck that," she said out loud. Fuck pain and everything that went with it. She guessed that the doctor had never been told that he couldn't do something that he loved, like driving his expensive sports car.

"Were you running?" asked her husband. He always insisted on talking to Joan in the shower. Once, she had asked him why he did this.

"I just like talking to you," he'd said.

The shower was a sacred space. It was where Joan eased her pain and thought about a run.

"Were you listening?" said William. "Sometimes, I don't know where you go in your mind."

"I am running," thought Joan. "I am always running."

"I was thinking about my day," said Joan. This was half-way true.

"Right," said her husband. "I wish you would listen when I talk. I always listen to you."

Joan turned off the shower. "Toss me a towel, would you?"

William brought her the only fluffy towel they owned, and a neon green flyer.

"You're not planning on running in this 5k, are you?" he said, as he studied the flyer.

Joan sighed. "Can we talk about this later?"

Her husband turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He reminded Joan of an angry stork, and she tried not to laugh. She pressed her fingers to her lips, but a giggle still escaped.

"What's so funny?" said her husband, from the living room.

"Nothing," said Joan, as her eyes began to water.

"I wish you would talk to me about running," said William.

In that moment, Joan wished she could talk to him about running, but he had never understood--would never understand--the attraction that running held for her. How could he, when his primary form of relaxation was playing video games?

Joan rubbed the inside of her ear with the towel. "Can you give me 5 minutes?" In 5 minutes, perhaps the pain would be gone and she could trust herself to talk to her husband without raising her voice.

Whenever she raised her voice, William accused her of getting defensive. This was frustrating, as being called defensive only made her angry and proved her husband's point.

"Fine," said her husband. "Have it your way."

"Why were people always saying this?" thought Joan. It meant nothing, but always left her feeling unjustly accused of intending to cause another person harm.

*****

The morning of the race, Joan felt sick to her stomach. She always felt this way before competing, so she took a deep breath, and ate a banana.

"Do you want some pancakes?" said her husband. He was standing in front of a frying pan trying, unsuccessfully, to flip a flapjack. 

Joan saw that the batter was oozing onto the stovetop and grimaced.

"What?" said her husband. "I'm making you some pancakes. I read that a runner should always carbo-load before a race."

Joan ran into the bathroom and threw up.

"Why are you throwing up?" said William.

"I'm nervous," admitted Joan.

"Don't be nervous," said her husband.

Joan took another deep breath. "Okay," she sighed. "I'll try not to be."

"Good," said her husband, smiling.

At the 5k race--Joan thought the race was for cancer awareness, but she wasn't sure what kind of cancer--she eyed the competition. There was no one in her age bracket, which was a good sign. It also looked like everyone was a weekend exerciser, which meant she was in better shape than a lot of the runners.

At the starting line, Joan felt a burst of energy. She ran a good race and came in 2nd place. As she walked toward her husband she fell.

"Are you okay?" said William.

"Yes," smiled Joan. The smile lit up her entire face and William couldn't help but smile back. "I've never been better."

THE END