56.
August 9, 1936
Berlin
SUNDAY, THE DAY OF THE RELAY FINAL, BEGAN WITH the air heavy with the metallic smell of rain. The dampness made Betty’s back ache and her knees stiff. In her bed, she waited for dawn, staring at the ceiling. When Dee had announced the relay team, Betty felt sure that every woman in that room knew she wasn’t the best pick. Everyone had piled on Harriet, but didn’t they remember that in Providence, Betty had barely made the cut? The other women accused Dee of playing favorites with Harriet, but wasn’t that impulse behind her selection of Betty too?
What if everyone pitied her too much to criticize her?
Or worse, what if she was put on the team out of pity?
A sickening sense of fear descended upon her. What if she caused them to lose?
“What’s wrong?”
Betty rolled to her side to see Helen watching her. “I shouldn’t be running today,” Betty confessed. “I wish Dee had picked someone else, one of the girls who doesn’t have any health problems like mine. We’re going to need every tenth of a second we can get. Why, those German women set a new world record yesterday during preliminaries! Who knows what they’ll pull off today?”
“Maybe they’ll be overconfident. Come on, get up. All we can do is run the best race we can.” Helen clambered out of her bed and started dressing in her team tracksuit.
Betty sat and tugged at the curlers in her hair. If only she had Helen’s unshakable confidence in her ability to win. “You don’t even want to do this race.”
“True, I haven’t wanted to run this one.” Helen pulled on her sweatshirt and then sat down on the edge of her bed across from Betty. “The relay’s always felt stressful. The idea of relying on others or being responsible for anyone else frightens me. I’ve been on my own for so long. It’s easier to just focus on my running, not have to worry about anyone else. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Betty stared at Helen. She’d always assumed Helen’s reluctance to embrace the relay lay more in her lack of confidence in her teammates. “What do you mean? How would you disappoint anyone? You’ve been winning everything easily.”
“I’ve always been a disappointment to everyone. For as long as I can remember, things with my own family have been difficult, and I’ve never really had good friends. It wasn’t until Coach Moore came along that I had someone who believed in me. But even with all of the success I’ve had since I started running, I’ve felt like a phony, like it was just a matter of time before everyone saw me as the awkward, disappointing person I’ve always been.”
“But that’s horrible. Surely you don’t really mean that?”
“Betty, when you’ve spent most of your life being told that you’re not wanted, that you’re ugly and a freak, you start to believe it, and believing those things can be a hard habit to break. So the other evening, when Harriet showed up in the dining hall waving that horrid newspaper around, I felt like the jig was up. Everyone would finally see the truth about me.”
“But those were all lies.”
“Yeah, but the accusations of me being an imposter felt all too true.”
“All of our teammates knew those were lies.”
“I know, that was the most amazing thing. I didn’t expect everyone to react that way. People have been treating me poorly for most of my life. It wasn’t until I started running that people began to pay attention to me. I mean, pay attention in a good way. I went from being an outcast at school to having Fulton throw a holiday in my honor, and it’s felt too good to be true, like it’s just a matter of time before my life takes a turn for the worse again. I’ve been so afraid to lose because it’s felt like if I keep winning, people will continue to like me. But I don’t think that’s the case now.” Helen smiled. “Do you remember back when we met in Chicago and you asked me to run the relay with you?”
“Of course.”
“Well, when I couldn’t carry that baton to save my life, you told me I could do it. Your confidence in me meant a lot and it worked. Now I want to do the same for you. I want to run this relay today. We can do this.”
Betty blinked back tears, tossed her curlers on the bedspread, and rose to embrace her friend. Enveloped in Helen’s strong arms, Betty felt safe, ready to try anything. “Thank you.”
Helen pulled back and looked down into Betty’s face. “You’re feeling better?”
“I am.” And she was.
“I’m off for my final massage on my shins. The doc used some cream yesterday that felt wonderful, and I’m hoping they use it again on me.”
“Today is the day to break out the best stuff.”
Helen nodded and laughed and—again—embraced Betty tightly. Nestled into Helen’s thick sweatshirt, Betty sighed a little and blinked back unbidden tears. She knew what Helen meant about feeling like an imposter. She could relate. Despite her past successes, she feared she would be the slowest woman on the track during the relay. But even more worrisome, what would she do after this race? The last eight years of her life had been focused on running and then recovering her health. What would happen when all the pageantry and special treatment of Berlin was over? Would she return to her quiet life of living with her parents, being a secretary in the architecture firm? Without the Olympics in her future, what lay ahead?
“Are you crying? I thought you were feeling better!” Helen said, rubbing Betty’s back.
“Oh, I’m just being sentimental.” Betty stepped back and wiped at her eyes. “This is my last Olympics. I’m sad that it’s almost over.”
“Me too. I’m surprised by how attached I feel to our sisterhood of athletes,” Helen said, shaking her head. “But it’s not over yet. We have one
