The Shoes of Baltimore (NaNoWriMo Day 7)

Charlie had a week to fly out before the Olympics started.

Right now, this was supposed to be cruise mode. This was supposed to be his victory lap. All he had to do was just show up and run.

Things had gotten a little crazy since it was announced he made the team. People started to find out his running schedule and following him.

It was kind of cool at first. It reminded him of people running in the street like rocky. But when the ATVs started following him, the police shut it down.

A private high school donated their track for his use while he was training. He always preferred to run off a track, but he didn’t have much of a choice. It still grew a crowed though whenever he ran.

But Charlie knew it was all a part of the show. If he was a jerk and brooding, it would be okay if he won his event. But if he didn’t place, he would just be a jerk.

So after every running session where the public had gathered, he signed as many autographs as possible. He knew it was important to build a fan base, one person at a time.

But this was going to be his last day in Baltimore, and he wanted to run around the city before he left.

If everything was crazy now, he could only imagine what it would be like if he actually placed in his. And it would be even crazier if he actually won.

That would project him towards the path of having enough money for the rest of his life quicker than he anticipated.

Well, not exactly. He thought if he was able to have made the team in that first trial where he tore his ACL, he would have most likely placed. If not, he would have at least been on everyone’s radars as an up and comer. And then endorsement offers would start flooding in because he would be on magazine covers and considered the new hot commodity in the Olympic world.

He would have started accumulating his fortune then, and could raise the price and start a bidding war for his endorsements.

Charlie thought he could get a quick run in today if did it early. He got up at 5:30 a.m and started to stretch.

The air was still cool, which he appreciated.

He stretched and scrolled through his iPod, trying to find the right playlist for the day.

He couldn’t find anything that he was in the mood for, so he just hit shuffle.

“Wonder Wall,” by Oasis started playing.

Love it, but now now, Charlie thought.

The next song was “Hanging Around,” by the Counting Crows.

These were two of Charlie’s favorite songs, but it wasn’t the way he wanted to start his run today.

When he hit next, “Good Morning” by Chammilionaire came on.

“ I want to show all of my haters love, this song’s for you.”

Perfect, Charlie thought.

As he thought, the streets were quiet. Between 5:30 a.m. to 6 a.m. was the perfect time for a run. Everyone who was partying or up from the night before had went to bed by now. Everyone else was still sleeping in before they had to go to work.

He would always cross paths with a few others who were up running at this time. Even though he had his headphones in and they had their headphones in, they communicated with a nod.

Even though there weren’t words spoken, that nod would communicate that they were each on the same page. They each had a goal that they were trying to accomplish, and they each knew what it took to get there.

That’s why the elite hang out together, Charlie’s mom had told him.

Sure, there were benefits of knowing other powerful people. But each of them knew what it took (good and bad) to get where they were. Sharing the same experience, even if you weren’t with someone at the time it happens, makes a powerful bond.

He crossed the bridge past the Ravens stadium, being careful to make sure he avoided the broken glass.

He saw a few school children hanging out at 7–11 on Hanover Street.

Traffic was still light around the Harbor, so he was easily able to cross the intersection where all the

He started to feel pangs of hunger when ran by Hooters. They were his favorite wings be he was abstaining himself until after the Olympics. It was going to be his reward to come back to Baltimore, get a booth, have people buy him drinks all night, have the waitresses flirt with him, and eat wings. Maybe people with notoriety who were about to earn millions of dollars should have more expensive taste, but that’s all Charlie wanted.

He looped back around to go to the top of Federal Hill.

He ran up and down the steep steps a total of 10 times before taking a breather. He went to the top and looked out on the city.

He liked the harbor the best in the morning when the sun was just coming up.

Not that many people ever see thisCharlie thought to himself. It was the go to spot for engagement announcements and Charlie gave the obligatory Facebook like whenever he saw someone he know pose there. But he thought it was overplayed.

He didn’t ever take pictures when he was here early in the morning. Charlie wanted to be selfish and keep this moment for himself. If anybody else wanted to experience it, they could get up when he did to catch it.

He sat down on a bench before he started back down the steps and to his town home.

Charlie wished his mom was there for the race. He knew she would be rooting for him, but it wasn’t the same without her there. He would have never got to this point if it wasn’t for her. He would have just been some dumb angry kid that liked fighting and would always get in trouble.

But he was also proud of himself. He was the one who had a dream, went out, and accomplished it. He was the one who got up everyone morning and did what he had to do to make his dream happen.

He sacrificed a lot.

But on one week, that sacrifice will be worth it, Charlie thought to himself.

After he had caught his breath and was done reflecting on his journey, Charlie started his run back home.

There were more cars on the streets now and people starting to walk to wherever they were going.

Some people were in suits and walking to jobs in finance or whatever seemingly important job they had that required them to have a suit. There were students who were rushing around to catch the bus. There were people from the convention center walking around, either lost or just trying to kill time before they had to participate in meetings and events.

Then there were the homeless, either setting up spots to ask for change or the day or walking to spots to ask for change.

Charlie always felt bad and would gave change when he could. But he didn’t have much to give to begin with, and when you get asked for change more than five times a day, you start to try and avoid the normal ways you walk so you don’t get bothered.

But no one had asked him yet, and he was just going to keep running and minding his business.

Charlie got caught at a light and he had to stop. He hated this light. None of the cars seemed to pay attention to it and did whatever they wanted. He had a few times, even when he wasn’t running, when he also started got hit by a car. He picked his knees up high and jogged in place, looking down the street at Camden yards.

He waited for what seemed longer than usual. Finally, the light finally said he could walk. He looked down the street just to make sure all the cars were stopped and weren’t trying to run the red light. This light was quick and he only had a little over 10 seconds to get across. He was fine when he was running, but if you were walking, you had to go quick.

He started running again. He got back to a quick pace. He was close to reaching the side walk, when he his ankle stepped into a small crack in the ground that was hidden by leaves. His ankle was twisting as his knee banged off the side of the sidewalk. He fell down in agony.

“No! No! No!” Charlie screamed in agony.

It was the same knee he tore his ACL in four years ago.

Helpful strangers stopped to help.

One of them called an ambulance and sat with Charlie.

“You’re Charlie Davis, right?”

Charlie didn’t reply. He just starred at the blood on his hand.

“I thought I recognized you. I saw you’ll be in the Olympics. Hopefully everything is okay.”

Charlie knew it wasn’t. The pain was even worse then when he tore his ACL the first time. He knew that it was torn again. He didn’t;’ even try to put pressure on it.

He just sat there.

Charlie thought about how he would have to keep getting up every morning at 1 a.m. to get to his job by 2 a.m. and do work he hated. He thought about the rude customers he had to deal with. He thought about how he wouldn’t have enough money. He thought about how he would have to work until he was 70.

He thought about how his mom and best friends from college were gone.

Charlie had nothing.

When the ambulance arrived, he asked for an ice pack for his ankle. When the medic handed him one, he threw his shoe off. It landed in the middle of the street.

“Sir, do you want me to get it?” the medic asked.

“No,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t matter.”