Run Taylah Run!

By Paul Richardson

The school relay team had won the right to compete in the regional trials in Atherton. Success there led to the team being invited to represent Far North Queensland at the State Championships in Brisbane.

However, the celebrations were short lived when, on the trip back to Cairns, the team bus came to grief on a remote dirt Tablelands backroad after a close encounter with a cow.

With people injured and no immediate help available, Taylah Bingham, the school’s best athlete, runs for help. Not far from the accident site, she finds a house. But its occupant is not the type to provide the kind of help she seeks. He too is a runner.

With Taylah at the mercy of an escaped prisoner, she finds herself in situations that leave her future uncertain.

However, because of her resolve, tenacity, goodwill, and ability to run, Taylah manages to find her way to safety. She also manages to find justice for the one who had imposed on her.

Despite the ordeal and the unexpected events that confront her, Taylah is still needed to anchor the regional relay team in Brisbane and is expected to perform at the highest level.

Nothing is simple for Taylah, but her talent, and the people around her always manage to see her through.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781716202582

Paul Richardson

Paul Richardson owns and manages a small farm and vineyard in western Spain. He is also the author of Our Lady of the Sewers and Other Adventures in Deep Spain, Cornucopia: A Gastronomic Tour of Britain, Indulgence: One Man's Selfless Search for the Best Chocolate in the World, and Williams-Sonoma Barcelona.

Book preview

Elmore

Chapter 1

Taylah waited, hands by her sides. She shook them as if they were covered in unwanted water. Sweat? No, just nerves.

She clenched her fists. She relaxed them.

She tightened her abdomen.

She let go.

She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.

Heels raised from the running track.

Together at first, slowly.

She lowered them.

Left ankle up.

Down again.

Right ankle. As high as she could get it. The calf muscle tightened.

Foot down.

The other ankle came up. It went down.

The first ankle came up again.

Foot down again.

She changed foot, faster and faster.

It looked like she was running on the spot.

Hands clenched.

Open.

Closed.

Open again.

Her eyes followed the white lines as they ran the bend.

Down the straight.

To the finish line.

Perspiration had penetrated her red shirt. Wet patches between her shoulder blades and around her midriff. Long black hair sat snug in a ball on top of her head. Below the tight navy shorts, dark brown legs shone in the afternoon sun.

Muscles were taut. Waiting for the explosion of power they were about to deliver.

Breath shallow. The cramped stomach muscles made her metabolism mark time. Soon her lungs would burst open and suck in the oxygen from the surrounding air.

Despite the tenseness of the moment, Taylah smiled. As she looked down, she saw her kneecaps. They poked out from the line of her slender legs. The skin on both was scuffed, almost white compared to the rest of her body. In her mind she heard her stepsister Krissy. Knuckle knees! Taylah could hear Krissy’s four-year-old giggle.

The announcer’s amplified voice cut through her thoughts. Immediately Taylah was back. She was ready to accept the baton for the last leg of the relay.

Taylah flicked her legs. Bent knees straightened.

First left. Then right.

She bounced up and down on the track. The spikes on her yellow-trimmed shoes grabbed the surface each time she landed.

In Lane 5, not far ahead: a girl in a white tee shirt and tightly fitting dark green running pants. Yellow ankle socks. White shoes.

Like Taylah’s, they flailed about at the end of fidgety feet. With each spring into the air the girl’s leg muscles tightened. Her calf muscles flexed. Taylah knew Lane 5 was ready to run.

Not far behind, in Lane 3, yellow shirt and grey shorts. Her skin was white. Her long hair, tied up behind her head, was a reddish orange. She crouched to a start position. She came up. Down again. She stood up and looked behind her. Lane 3 also looked fit and fast.

Lane 3 also looked anxious.

The screams from beyond the fence and ahead of her in the grandstand brought home why Taylah was there. In the back straight Renee had passed the baton to Shareez. The transition had been smooth, as the team had practised. Not overly fluid in her actions, Shareez had her head down and her arms out from the sides of her body. She muscled her way toward the top bend.

Runners in other lanes caught and passed Shareez. Taylah smiled. She knew her best friend was not the fastest on the team. In fact, she had initially protested at being included, but Taylah could see how prepared Shareez was to give her all for her school.

Taylah also knew that the placement of Shareez as third runner was deliberate. It meant that, even if Shareez was overtaken, Taylah would not have too much distance to make up when it was her turn to race the last leg. Taylah would use her speed to run down the other competitors. She too would give her all and bring it home not only for her school, but also for the friend who was heaving and puffing to bring Taylah the baton.

Taylah also knew how much was riding on her performance. A place in this relay final would mean her school would win the track meet.

The changeover zone came alive as runners arrived.

Lane 1 came in first.

Lane 3 was next.

Then lane 2.

Lane 5.

Lane 6.

Next in was Shareez.

Taylah took up her position. She leaned forward. She locked her elbows. Lead leg stretched out; knee bent. Her other leg was back, ankle flexed, ready to drive forward.

Taylah turned her head so she could see Shareez.

Like they had practised, as soon as Shareez was three paces behind, Taylah pushed off. Her left arm stretched out, palm inverted, open, supple.

Taylah heard Shareez’s gasps. She felt the metal touch her hand. She clenched it. She snatched it away from her friend. Taylah’s head went down. She accelerated.

Shareez called after Taylah, Go! You can do it! Run Taylah, Run!

Taylah ran.

Her focus was on the lane. She concentrated on her technique. In her head she heard her mother’s voice, Girlie, you are not out to win. You are out to do your best. You have no control over how fast others may be. You only have control over yourself: your style, your will, and your commitment. Do your best Girlie. That will take care of the rest.

Taylah did her best. Her training had prepared her.

She soon passed the runner in Lane 5. She gained on Lane 2. She was beside the runner in Lane 3. She could hear the girls around her as they gasped and groaned. She could also hear the spectators in the stands.

Taylah concentrated on her rhythm. She pushed harder with her legs. She pulled harder with her arms. The purple baton swung up and down in her left hand. Taylah could see the finish line as it raced toward her.

Above the noise of the onlookers, Taylah heard a familiar voice. It screamed, Run Taylah, run! Run like an emu with its bum on fire!

Nick.

Taylah dug her spikes into the track. She pushed herself forward. In her peripheral view she could see she was up with the front runners. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not move ahead. The girls on either side matched her for speed.

The finish line was on them. The closeness of the race had students from all the schools frantic with excitement.

In the last few strides Taylah let her training take over. She lunged.

The sudden momentum shift beyond the line affected the balance of some finishers. The athlete in Lane 6 swaggered and swayed as her legs protested the sudden change of pace. The runner in Lane 1 stumbled and fell to her hands and knees, only metres beyond the finish.

Taylah stiffened her legs and slowed her stride until she came to a stop. She turned and stood. Facing back down the running track she squeezed her hands into her hips. She straightened her back. She sucked at the air. Slowly, she walked back along the lane. After several steps she turned and walked to the athlete on her hands and knees. The girl was bawling.

Exhaustion. Pain. Relief.

Taylah held out her hand. She took one of the girl’s arms and lifted her back to her feet. The runner from Lane 6 was beside them.

Between deep breaths Lane 6 said, Great run girls.

Taylah heaved at the air. She tried to say Thanks, but nothing came out. The girls embraced and comforted each other without words. As one, they fought for oxygen to replenish their exhausted bodies.

Mister Runellot, the sports teacher from Taylah’s school, came up to the three athletes. He had his right hand in the air in a high-five salute position. He said, Great race. That would have to be the best interschool relay I have ever seen!

All three smiled in acknowledgement. Taylah took a deep breath. She turned toward her teacher. She said, Well Sir. Who won?

Chapter 2

The school’s squad for the regional carnival had been selected. The team list was displayed on the notice board in the assembly area.

Taylah Bingham sat on a nearby bench with Shareez and a group of friends. Beside Shareez, was Renee Rodriguez and Danny Dotz. On the other side of Taylah were Logan Ailes and Eli Moncrieff.

Nick de Bruin stood in front of the notice board. He had volunteered to read out the names of those on the list.

As a young child, Nick was a thin, gangly, blonde haired boy. When he arrived in Cairns from South Africa, he had been introspective. To compensate for his physical and emotional shortcomings he behaved gregariously and tried to make people laugh. Nick had decided, if people were going to laugh at him anyway, he would say things and do things that gave them a reason to laugh. It helped him to feel like he was in control. With practice over the years, Nick had developed into a confident and competent comedian.

The now tall, adolescent boy at the notice board announced, Danny Dotz, Two Hundred Metres, Individual and Relay. Better wear your glasses Danny so you can see how far the other runners are in front of you. No, don’t bother with glasses. Carry a pair of binoculars!

Danny was new to the school. He had moved to Cairns at the commencement of the year. His father was a financial adviser who had been transferred from Sydney by his company to assist with the re-establishment of locally based tour companies, now the threat of COVID 19 restrictions had subsided.

Danny was a stocky boy with tasselled black hair. He wore thick-lensed glasses to help compensate his limited long-distance vision. He was easy-going. He made friends with everyone he met. Taylah, Shareez and Renee had welcomed Danny to the group. In fact, Renee had struck a friendship with Danny. His presence appeased Renee’s well-known preoccupation with being the best at everything she undertook. Since Danny enrolled, Renee had desisted from her trademark boastfulness and aggression. She spent most recess breaks in the library with Danny or, if not in there, she sat about the grounds and talked with him. Eli and Logan had also welcomed Danny, despite his New South Wales heritage and the arguments that were sure to arise during the State of Origin series.

Nick announced, Renee Rodriguez, Four by One Hundred Metres Relay!

Nick turned to the group. He said, Let’s hope our dear friend Renee really is the best runner in the school. We will need her to do well if we are going to win.

Renee squirmed. She said, Nick. I never said I was the best runner in the school!

Eli and Logan laughed.

Renee rebuked their chuckles. I never did! I said I was a good runner, but never said I was the best!

Eli mumbled, Well you used to tell everyone you were the best in the world at everything. Why not running?

Renee continued her defence. Eli, that was when I was younger. I have grown up a lot since then. Besides, I have learned that there are more important things than always wanting to be the best.

Logan couldn’t resist. Important things, or important people? Like Danny.

Renee said with pride, Yes.

Eli nudged Danny with his elbow. Danny was caught off guard and slipped off the