I crank up the speed on the treadmill, running faster now. Ignoring the twinge in my right knee, knowing it’ll ease as my body warms up. The rhythmic slap of my feet against the belt is hypnotic, reliable.
Over the last thirty years, going for a good hard run has never failed me.
Being pushed has never failed me.
Believing in hard work, and doingthe hard work?—
I stumble over my feet, then jump, skipping to correct myself. I slap the treadmill controls, slowing the speed to a jog, a thought close to forming into a complete concept.
It’s there. It’s so close, I can feel it.
Footsteps outside my door are a brief warning that I’m about to get company. The best company.
“Hello?” Molly steps into view and beams at me. “Oh, you’re in here!”
I don’t stumble this time, even though my heart beats faster at the sight of her in that sundress, with that smile on her face. “I’m almost done.”
“Keep going. I like watching you run.” She slides onto my desk chair, crossing one bare leg over the other.
“I need the team to up their intensity,” I say between huffing breaths. “Like this run. I need them to feel driven. It has to come from inside them, and we’ve lost that motor.”
She nods. “Okay. So how do you find it again?”
I swallow a swig of water and shrug.
She waits.
I increase the speed again, sprinting now. I’m an old man, I can’t do this for long. But the last mile is ticking down, almost done, and she’s right there. I’ll get to pull her into my sweaty embrace in another two hundred yards.
The answer crystallizes in my mind as my feetpound the belt and Molly watches patiently, waiting for me.
Trick flying down from Wyoming just to give his old team a pep talk and his former coach and teammate a shoulder to lean on. That’s what’s missing. That selflessness. That desire to support each other.
The treadmill beeps its completion and automatically slows to a cool-down pace. I grab my towel, wiping my face as I look at Molly. “What were you better at, rugby or volleyball?”
“Neither?” She laughs. “Probably volleyball. Height helped.”
“So why did you play rugby?”
“For my teammates,” she says. Then her eyes light up. “Oh.”
Yeah.
“We don’t have that yet. They’re a talented bunch, if a bit green, but they’re not cohesive. Whatever the motivation is, it has to come from inside the team.Theyneed theirownreasons to build the team from the clubhouse out. To rely on each other and trust each other.” I scrub my hand over my face. “Which, of course, I know.”
“But sometimes we need a reminder of what we already know?”
I nod between big, restorative breaths. “Sorry for missing dinner, but I needed…”
“I know.”
“I’ve had all these scattered thoughts in my head over thelast few weeks.”
“I’ve been a distraction,” she says carefully.
“No. Not at all. Do you mind a sweaty hug?”
“I like it,” she whispers, her eyes sparkling.
