Endurance

“Kelly?” her mom said.

“Huh?”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“What?” Mom was seriously breaking her concentration.

“Go help Florence walk the dog.”

Kelly flicked the touch screen, pausing again. Mom had her bare arms folded, her muscles popping up like a man’s. Kelly subconsciously checked her own arms. She prided herself in being strong, but she never wanted to look like that. Never. Muscles on women were gross.

“Grandma’s doing fine.”

The women both looked at Grandma. The sixty-five year old was tugging on JD’s leash. JD was sitting on the road, licking himself between his legs. At over a hundred pounds, the German Shepherd weighed about as much as Grandma did.

“Kelly. Don’t make me say it again.” Mom lowered her voice. “Give her a chance. Please. For me.”

Kelly sighed loudly and rolled her eyes, even though Mom never said please. Then she tucked her iPod into her fanny pack and stalked over to Grandma and the dog. It was bad enough that Grandma was coming to live with them after the Iron Woman race, but Mom had also insisted Kelly give up her room and move into the much smaller third bedroom.

Totally unfair.

Kelly didn’t understand why Grandma was moving in anyway. She and Mom had some kind of falling out years ago, after dad died, and Kelly hadn’t seen her grandmother since she was six. She had no idea why they’d been out of touch for so long, but now here they were, pretending to care about each other. One big happy.

“Stubborn, isn’t he?” Grandma let the leash go slack. Like Kelly, she was dressed in jogging shorts and a loose tee, though even at her ancient age, Grandma filled the clothes out better. “I don’t think he likes me.”

“He only walks for me and Mom. If he didn’t like you, you’d know. He’d be growling and the hair would stand up on his back. C’mere, JD.”

At the command, JD’s ears pricked up and he pranced over to Kelly, the leash pulling out of Grandma’s hand. He bumped his massive head into Kelly’s hip, and gave her arm a lick. He then switched to licking the scab on her knee—a training injury from a few days ago.

Grandma walked up to them. She wasn’t as muscular as Mom, and just a bit shorter, but the resemblance was amazing. When the three of them stood next to each other, it was like looking at the same woman at different stages of her life. Each of them also wore their blond hair the same way, in a ponytail, though Grandma’s was mostly gray.

“Want to go north?” Grandma said, pointing her chin over Kelly’s shoulder. “I hear a waterfall. We could go check it out.”

“I don’t hear anything.”

“You will, as we get closer. Come on.”

Grandma moved at an easy jog, cutting across the road, into the thick trees. Kelly lived her whole life in southern Illinois, flat as a bowling alley with no flora taller than corn stalks. West Virginia, with its mountains and forests, seemed like a different country. It was beautiful, but Kelly refused to admit it aloud, sticking her nose back in her iPod whenever Mom or Grandma pointed out something pretty during the long drive. She didn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction, still sore about the bedroom thing, which Mom sprung on her when they picked Grandma up at the airport yesterday.

Why didn’t Mom give up her room to Grandma? It was all a bunch of BS.

No, not BS. It was straight-up bullshit.

Just thinking about the swear word made Kelly feel older. She frowned, then followed her grandmother.

Ten steps into the woods, Kelly felt like she’d been swallowed. The trees were everywhere, and she lost all sense of direction. Grandma weaved through the forest like a jackrabbit, her pace increasing, and Kelly began to fall behind.

“Slow down! JD can’t keep up!”

In fact, JD was doing fine. Kelly was also doing fine, at least in the stamina department. She’d trained for seven months for the triathlon, and was enormously proud to be the youngest contestant this year. But Kelly was used to running on asphalt, not rocky wilderness. Her steps alternated between jagged outcroppings and soft dirt that sucked at her gym shoes. Kelly spent so much time watching her footing she was afraid Grandma would get too far ahead and disappear.

“Don’t look at your feet.”

Kelly startled, coming to a stop. Somehow Grandma had materialized right in front of her.

“I’m gonna break my ankle.”

“Look into my eyes, Kelly.”

Kelly did as instructed, Grandma’s eyes were blue, like hers and mom’s, but set in a valley of deep wrinkles. Kelly couldn’t remember Grandma ever smiling. Not that she was a mean woman. But she was serious all the time.

“Can you see my hand?” Grandma asked.

Kelly glanced down at Grandma’s wriggling fingers.

“No, Kelly. Keep looking at me while you do it.”

Kelly sighed, then stared at Grandma again.

“Keeping your eyes on mine, can you see my hand?”

Kelly couldn’t see it, at least not clearly. But she could make out an indistinct blur.

“I guess.”

“What am I doing?”

“Wiggling your fingers.”

“Good. Now watch me.”

Grandma took a step back and stood with her legs apart, her hands at waist-level, one in front of the other. She quickly raised her arms up over her head, then brought each hand around in a circle. They met again at her belt-line, palms out. The entire time, her gaze was locked onto Kelly.

“What’s that?” Kelly asked.

“The beginning of a kata called Kushan Ku. It helps improve your peripheral vision. The goal is to be able to see your hands while looking straight ahead.”

“What’s the point?”

“To be aware of everything around you, and not just what’s in front of you.”

“So?”

“So then you’ll know if someone does this.”

Kelly felt wind on her cheek. She looked, and saw Grandma’s palm an inch away from slapping her ear. Kelly hadn’t seen Grandma’s hand move at all.

JD growled, baring his teeth.

“Shush,” Grandma said. “Be nice.”

The dog whined, then sat down and began licking himself again.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” Kelly asked. “To hit that fast?”

“It’s up to your mother. She never really warmed up to the martial arts.”

“Show me that kata thing again.”

“Kushan Ku.”

Grandma repeated the move. Kelly handed over the leash and tried it. She could just barely make out her hands at the very edge of sight.

“I can see them.”

She also thought she saw something else. Something moving in the woods. Kelly remembered the man she’d seen earlier, but kept her eyes on Grandma, as instructed. Besides, if there was a man in the forest, JD would be barking.

That is, if JD could keep his snout out of his own crotch for more than ten seconds.

“Good. Now use your peripheral vision when you’re running over the rocks, so you don’t have to keep your head down. Keep your eyes ahead of you, but not your entire focus.”