The race against time

A nostalgic wave hits me as I glance down at the book clutched tightly in my grasp… ‘A Wrinkle in Time’.

A kaleidoscope of colour swirls dizzily around me… or am I spinning inside a massive paint pot of rainbow hues? Magenta mixes with turquoise and liquid gold. Each strand of coloured ‘thread’ unspooling… playfully looping around its neighbour, winding around me. The vertiginous sight is startling and exhilarating. Tingling ‘pins and needles’ prick my extremities… fingers and toes twitch. Tinkling notes of a glockenspiel gently dance around me… a joyous anthem, unknown but somehow familiar.

My mind struggles to compute the unfathomable. As though finding myself washed up in an eddy along the banks of a swift flowing river, movement calms… ceases. I arouse from the ‘dream’ — paperback book still grasped in my sweaty hand — a vague feeling of disorientation lingers. Petrichor wafts on the breeze, weaving through open hopper windows of the school library.

That was definitely weird!

flits through my bemused mind.

Enough slacking, I’d better get back to work…

Deftly re-shelving the book, I look around. Tall, cream-coloured shelves holding shiny new, books have morphed into worn, tattered copies resting on low, narrow shelves. Nervously, I run my fingers through my… long curly hair!? The short, spikey look has been my trademark style since… soon after my school days!

Hey! Are you coming’? Cross-country starts soon!

Turning towards the eager voice, I spot my best friend Susan heading out. I hasten after her… towards the High School oval where our annual Cross-country run begins and ends. I’ve been here before… not just this school and race… this day! I’ve lived it before. Although improbable, I have little choice but to run with it! Literally.

Everything is exactly as it was back in the day… when I was four decades younger. The verdant sports oval is a sea of maroon and gold shot through with ‘House’ colours… gold, green and blue. Like my friend, I’m clad in our sports uniform, blue T-shirt atop short, maroon Stubbie shorts. An excited burble engulfs us. A strident whistle splits the air… silence prevails. Students line up in readiness for their race. I hold an advantage... I know this race in its entirety, including the outcome.

Why am I here again?

How am I here?

is the refrain looping through my brain.

The trill of the sports whistle blasts out, cutting off further rumination. It’s our race. I remember that I finished this race in my usual fourth position. An internal monologue natters…

I’d better not change history here!

Stick to the same run result.

Would it really matter?

Maybe…

Play it safe, try not to change anything.

Galloping up the long incline of potholed bitumen, I realise I haven’t run a Cross-Country since… today. Hopefully my fitness level is calibrated to this stage of my life, not the one I was rudely wrenched from this morning. Like trying on a new outfit, I gingerly ‘test drive’ my limber 16-year-old body… for the first time in too long! Nice! I’d forgotten the careless abandon of expecting every muscle, tendon and joint to flawlessly perform without warning or complaint.

Running in my faded Gym Boots comes as a shock… both mentally and physically! What a huge retrograde step from my lightweight Asics Gel running shoes. I remember to stay with the lead pack — at least until after the first creek crossing - I still hate running in soggy shoes! Some things don’t change! After precariously tiptoeing across the stepping stones, my mind sneaks back to…

Why?

How?

What triggered my return here, on this day?

I’m clueless.

The terrifying sound of cattle lowing breaks my reverie. I freeze!

They’re just cows! They won’t hurt you!

chides ‘Adult Me’. This trek through the cow paddock is no longer the harrowing experience it was the first time.

Far into the future, I’ve built stamina and persistence. Hills can be jogged rather than endured at a brisk walk. Combing my memories of the minutiae of this unremarkable day, I analyse interactions with fellow runners and friends.

Am I supposed to help someone? How?

Belinda — an arrogant, ‘Popular Girl’ — tops the ridge, at the far side of the paddock… in first place, as always. She’s a ‘Hot Shot’ distance runner — or was — destined for State Championships or better. Never made it, completely dropped out of everything… running, school, life. I recall that her mother died soon afterwards… lost a short battle with cancer. All Belinda’s friends deserted her… grief is not for fair weather friends.

My fit body combines with life's lessons learnt these past decades. Surprisingly, I need to throttle back to maintain my given position. I cross the Finish Line. This time around — instead of giving Belinda a wide berth — I seek her out and warmly congratulate her on her great run… a convincing win. Surprise washes over her face. She seems… vulnerable.

Maybe she isn’t a snob… nasty and mean… maybe she doesn’t hate me!

She glances my way and casually tosses,

Why don’t you stay for training? Long distance isn’t much harder than middle.

Shocked, I barely manage,

Maybe, I’ll see…

A hint of a smile lights her eyes. I smile shyly in return.

The minute the 3 o’clock bell rings, I sprint for the library. It closes soon. If this is Time Travel, I’m a rank novice. Hopefully, I can return in the same manner I arrived. I frantically search for the book… there! I snatch it up! Nothing! There… a second copy! The instant my fingers touch it; this library begins to dissolve… like carnival lights encircling a manic Merry-Go-Round!

My heart, mind and body spin chaotically until… the motion slows, gentles. I cautiously open one eye… I’m safely back at work in my school library. Yes, the air conditioner is humming happily — floor to ceiling windows gaze upon a lone red rose in the grassy playground — I’m wearing my colourfully decorated uniform. The problematic copy of “A Wrinkle in Time” is safely stashed in the most inaccessible corner of the locked Compactus… securely out of harm’s way. I sigh in relief.

My smart watch vibrates, silently notifying me of a text message. I smile…

Want to go for a run this arvo?

Belinda.

*

Written for Liam Storm’s challenge below:

Another Time Travel/Alternate Universe tale...