“I want to try for one more Olympics.”
“Betty, you’re an important figure in track and field. I know you have a lot of fans, but do you think there might be something to be said for retiring at the top of your game? Leave everyone remembering your important run in Amsterdam? After all you’ve been through, getting to Berlin will be tough.”
“Coach, after my crash, I was told I might never walk again, forget running. But here I am, ready to race.” Her heart thudded in her chest as she spoke, but she pushed on. “You and I both know that winning at the Olympics is about more than physical superiority and conditioning. Only athletes who have the mental ability to tune out the distractions and noise will be successful in Berlin. I did that in Amsterdam and was one of the few Americans to win gold. I can do it again. If anything, my recovery should show you how strong I really am. I didn’t get to where I am without focus and tenacity. I’m telling you, you need me there.”
He studied her and cleared his throat. “Well, we’ll see. There’s the Central AAU meet coming up later this month. How about we give you a shot at it to see how you look? What do you say?”
“I want to do the relay. Caroline, Tidye, and I’ve been running well, and I think we’ll win.” She gazed at him with what she hoped was a steely glint. What she didn’t mention was her inability to lower into a starting crouch without hurting her legs, but as long as she wasn’t the first leg of the team, she could take advantage of the standing start positioning. No one would know of her limitation.
He placed his teacup down and crossed his arms. “Really? I admire your confidence. Who’s going to be your fourth runner?”
His skepticism made her jaw tighten, but she had no intention of giving away her plan, so she demurred with a lighthearted laugh and wave of her hand. “Oh, we have a few ideas. When do I need to name the final runner?”
“I suppose you can wait until the evening of the event as long as you fill out an application and pay the event fee to hold a spot for your team.”
Betty remained expressionless, but a wash of energy traveled through her as she considered her plan to win the relay. “I can do that. I’m in.”
So here she was, sitting in the back seat of Jim’s car next to her sister, Jean, outside the armory, the car’s engine idling with its comforting hum. Jean exhaled from her Chesterfield and Betty inhaled the acrid smoke enviously. Maybe a cigarette would be just the thing to take the edge off her nerves, but before she could ask her sister for one, Jim clapped his hands together. “So, are we going to get this show on the road or sit here all night?”
Jean let out a hoot and nudged Betty. “Let’s go!”
Betty reached for the door handle. How lucky she was to have them with her. Her legs trembled as she reached for her bag, but that didn’t worry her. Nerves signaled excitement, and as long as they didn’t get the better of her, all the sparks and jitters were good. Under the darkening gunmetal sky threatening rain, the three of them climbed from the car. This was it.
They hurried toward the entrance marked by the banners of the race’s sponsors, the Chicago Daily News and the AAU Polish-American Union. Once inside, Betty exchanged quick embraces with her family and then pushed her way toward the locker room to dress.
BETTY, CAROLINE, AND Tidye stood on the side of the track, watching a tall woman practicing her starts.
“So, that’s her?” Caroline asked.
The woman towered over the other runners near her. When she turned in Betty’s direction, the William Woods College lettering on her sweatshirt became visible.
“Yes,” Betty said. “I’m going to talk with her.”
“What if she says no?” Tidye asked.
“She won’t,” Betty said, hoping it was true.
“Good luck,” Caroline shouted over the noise of the crowd as Betty wended her way toward Helen.
Up close, the Missourian appeared to be a giant. When she caught sight of Betty, she stopped practicing. “Hey, you’re Betty Robinson, aren’t you? You’re here! I’ve been hoping to meet you.”
Betty felt her face redden. “Yes, I’m Betty.”
“I left my autograph book in my track bag, but would you mind signing it later?” Helen’s voice was surprisingly deep, but friendly.
“Of course.”
“Holy cats, this is exciting!”
For all the hype surrounding her, Helen appeared a little awkward, but genuine. Her big-toothed grin was unselfconscious, and Betty couldn’t help feeling tender toward the younger woman. Her enthusiasm loosened a little part of Betty, the final piece of her that had remained locked, protecting her against disappointment, and she found herself smiling back.
“Do you know if Stella Walsh is here?” Helen asked. “With the Polish-American Club sponsoring this, I hoped she’d come. She’s been saying all kinds of stuff about me to the newspapers and I’d sure like to beat her again tonight.” Helen suddenly looked stricken. “I mean, I’m not trying to boast, but I’d sure like to show that lady what happened a year ago in St. Louis wasn’t a fluke.”
“It looks like you’ll have to wait, but from everything I’ve read, you’re a shoo-in for Berlin.”
“Oh, I hope so. So what events are you in today?”
“Only the 4-x-100-meter relay.”
“You’re not doing the individual hundred-meter?”
“No.” Betty licked her lips and took the plunge on the plan she had been hatching for months. “Listen, we could use a fourth on our relay team and I wondered if you’d be willing to anchor for us?”
Helen studied her up and down and was about to say something, but the announcer’s voice crackled over the PA system: “Calling all runners in the special invitational fifty-yard dash to the starting area for check-in.”
Hearing
