The Runner in Me - Nez

 The Runner in Me

by Nez Nesmith

As a little kid I always walked with my Mom from downtown across the

tracks to uptown Lyman to run errands to the store and post office. We

usually went two times each week, sometimes three. When I was about five

or so Mom sometimes let me run those errands to the post office and store

by myself. And I ran all the way, nearly half-a-mile to the post office first,

then back to the store two doors away. By the time I was seven I could run

that distance in about eight minutes and run back home with the mail and a

bag of groceries in about twelve minutes. I ran everywhere. When I was

outside by myself I was either running or throwing or shooting baskets.

In school I ran faster than everybody except Bud Ashe. Bud lived in uptown

Lyman. We became good friends in the first grade. Even though we were

raised in the same tiny town we had never met before first grade. His family

were Baptists and mine were Pentecostals, so we never even went to

church together. And we were definitely parented differently.

Our families were kind of alike. He and I were middle kids, and we each

had an older sister and younger brother. The difference was he had a mom

and a dad. I only had a mom.

My Mom was both trusting and permissive. She knew everyone in town and

that they looked out for everybody’s kids, and she allowed us to do things

and go places in town at a fairly young age. Bud’s mother wouldn’t allow

him or his siblings to even cross the tracks except for church or school.

Thus, Bud never came to my house to play, not once. But his mother was

okay with me going to his house any time. So, I was there frequently. It was

like that always.

One might have thought Bud’s mother would have brought him to my

house sometime but she never did. And yes she was invited. She didn’t

even allow him to come to any birthday parties across the tracks. But we all

went to his. And Bud wasn’t allowed to participate in our other escapades

all around Lyman. He and I did things at or near his home but he always

had to stay within sight of his house. Most parents in Lyman weren’t as

strict as Mrs. Ashe, and I’m sure she had her reasons, but all my other

friends came to my house.

In our school classes Bud and I were academically about even and we

always got better grades than the other five boys in our class. We were

both good students as well as athletic. I was a better speller. He was a

faster reader. It didn’t matter what the activity or sport Bud and I were

always the standouts among the boys. Two girls were better academically.

Each year Lyman Elementary had a Springtime field day where everyone

participated in events. On this day each year there was one thing where

Bud was not as good as I, not even close. Ball throw: in ball-throw I always

threw a lot farther and more accurately than Bud. I always won.

When we got to junior high, an intermingling of kids from eight elementary

schools, Bud and I were also the two fastest guys in the whole school as

eighth graders. But I was still the better speller. I even won the junior high

spelling bee, with the word “khaki”. Also, in eighth grade Bud was no longer

faster than I. We were pretty even and I won as many races as he did.

Then in ninth grade in junior high, the high school track coach chose me to

race in the Skagit County High School Invitational Track Meet against the

best sprinters from the five high schools in the county. At the race I was the

only runner not yet in high school. I didn’t come in first, but I took third and

was within a half-step of the winner in the 100-yard dash. I was kind of a

hero for about five minutes. But I was most proud that my Mom got to see

me run that race and she was thrilled. She was always happy and proud of

my successes, but that was the only time my Mom ever saw me compete

at anything.

Bud congratulated me too and was proud for me. But after that race our

long friendship faded and we simply became classmates. I saw him at the

thirtieth reunion and we greeted each other warmly but neither of us had

much to say. Oh! His mother was still alive. Mine was not.