Chapter 11 #2
But Taylor and Drew faltered.
‘Godspeed motherfuckers!’ JB hollered, but still they didn’t leave. They walked over to him and enveloped him in their embrace. And there they stood in a group hug, foreheads together, silent for once.
That first mile – damn that first mile! Taylor always found it hard to run it slow though he knew it was crucial that he did, so it was a blessing and a curse that the first mile was an immediate climb.
He had a monkey sitting on his shoulder hissing in his ear how it was all going to be too much, but at the one mile mark the wind changed and there was a barrage of beeping from Dougie’s car, JB leaning out of the window with battle cries of encouragement.
And after that, Drew and Taylor had the road to themselves.
‘One mile down. You good?’ Drew asked. He felt so happy. His feet were cushioned with air. He loved his legs, his lungs, his heart and his absolute belief that if he trusted his body, it would carry him all the way.
‘I’m good,’ Taylor said, slaloming between the cows, or coos, who were now mooching around the road and weren’t remotely interested in the running men.
‘Look where we are, man!’
‘God’s own country.’
They’d decided to run colours today, splitting the marathon into quarters.
The first six and a half miles were coded green – for go, for freshness, for the colour of spring which, on this island in this weather, was bursting out around them.
The perfect distance to ease themselves in, to find their pace.
They felt good and strong. They could hardly believe how they’d eaten into the miles when, around a bend the Weaver Welcome!
sign came into view. Next to it stood Duncan himself, hitting a saucepan with a wooden spoon and calling out to them come on laddies, come on!
Taylor touched the old man’s arm as he ran by. This was going to be ok.
Drew glanced at his watch. This was going to be great.
Was it only yesterday that Taylor had made this journey? ‘What’s the day today?’ he asked Drew.
‘Friday. Is it Friday?’ Out on the road, strange things happened to time and space.
‘That guy drinks whisky out of a mug.’
‘Like – a whole cup?’
‘No just a splash.’
On and on. The surface had bounce to it. Their feet were hungry, gobbling the road.
‘Good time we are making.’
Taylor laughed. ‘You’re doing your Yoda thing.’
Sometimes Drew did this subconsciously, as if putting one foot in front of another was a greater priority than stringing words together correctly.
‘Love Star Wars.’
‘Me too.’
‘It’s defined my life.’
‘When I was a kid I wrote to Santa for a Light Saver.’
They each opened a gel and sucked them down.
‘My mom still says Dark Vader,’ said Drew.
‘My mom’s put my Star Wars stuff in a box for me to sort out,’ Taylor said. ‘I don’t know where I’m going to put it. I don’t know where my things belong.’
On they ran and Drew listened to Taylor’s footfalls. They were light, despite his heavy silence. He put his hand between Taylor’s shoulder blades for a moment or two.
‘It sucks,’ Taylor said.
When the Amhuinnsuidhe estate came into view, they knew they were approaching the five mile mark.
Before the archway, from the estate buildings, staff stood clapping and cheering.
A young girl came rushing out of the honesty shop and sprinted ahead of them under the arch to the door of the castle, giggling all the way.
Sunlight was skimming the surface of Loch Leosavay and there, at its head, on the neatly tended lawn, stood JB.
His arms were raised aloft and he punched the air and bellowed at them.
Drew and Taylor nodded at each other. They left the road to run a circle right around JB who knew that if he didn’t keep roaring he’d sob.
So roar he did and Taylor and Drew ran backwards a few strides taking their fists to their hearts.
Then away they ran as the road started to climb while the fast flowing Abhainn Mhor tumbled away from them and down into the loch.
‘Mind if I join you a wee while?’
Dougie was at their side. They’d forgotten about Dougie.
Drew found he couldn’t remember his name but that was okay because he discovered how going through a long list of possibilities in his mind made the incline disappear.
As the road levelled, he listened to Taylor’s breathwork.
It was rhythmic, the exhales long and strong.
‘What do you do, Dougie?’ Taylor asked.
Dougie! thought Drew, who’d been stuck on Angus though he knew that wasn’t right.
‘I’m a photographer.’
‘Cool,’ said Taylor and Drew in unison.
‘You’re students, aye?’
‘Aye,’ said Taylor.
‘Aye,’ said Drew. ‘Grad school we are going.’
‘Yoda,’ said Taylor.
‘And after?’ Dougie asked, knowing well how much rubbish he could talk whilst running.
‘I want to be a novelist,’ Taylor said.
‘What’s your story?’ Dougie asked.
‘I don’t know yet.’
They’d covered another two miles and were grateful for Dougie pacing for them.
‘Bloody buses,’ Dougie laughed and pointed. ‘Hey there! Have you been waiting long?’
Right inside the bus stop at Cliasmol, a lone sheep was lying down as if she’d been waiting all day – for the bus maybe, but perhaps she was there to alert Drew and Taylor that the green zone had become orange.
Orange, for the next quarter, notified them to stay aware, that they might not feel so good and to be ready for that.
The road was climbing again and the camber kept changing.
Without fuss, Dougie stayed in the lead, giving the lads something to focus on.
For Drew it was Dougie’s top and how the twist of fabric changed with each footfall.
Taylor just stared at his ponytail, fixating on whether it was cool or not and wondering how long it would take to grow his hair to be able to bunch it.
Would it suit him? Accidentally, he knocked against Drew, not hard but still his friend lost his stride for a moment.
‘Sorry man.’
‘You’re good.’
Taylor’s right knee was hurting. Or was it? Was there a piece of grit just under his sock? Possibly. Probably not.
‘Orange,’ Taylor said.
‘Think: juice and flavour and that lovely colour and all that vitamin C,’ Drew responded.
The road had levelled again. Taylor’s knee was absolutely fine, there was nothing in his sock.
Dougie ran with them around the head of Loch Meavaig.
‘Lads,’ he said, ‘I’m going to turn at the top of that wee climb and go back for JB – he’s probably set up residence in the castle as we speak.’
Predictably, there was nothing wee about the climb.
‘Ten miles,’ said Taylor. ‘Drink.’
‘Yep,’ said Drew.
They drank as they ran.
‘I wish this was half way.’
‘Don’t think like that.’
‘I know.’
‘Nirvana or Foo Fighters.’
‘That’s stupid.’
‘Answer, goddam you.’
‘You first.’
‘No.’
‘Paris to Harris, man.’
‘Parree to Harree!’
‘Do you know that guy Harry? Lives with Tom and Billy and that lot?’
‘Yeah, I know him.’
‘I like that dude.’
‘Me too.’
And then only silence. The road underfoot. A breeze cooling their sweat. An eagle overhead. The gather of the North Harris Hills like an amphitheatre. Ripples on the water. The road, always the road, forever ribboning on.
Taylor’s hair was getting on his nerves. Sweat had made spikes of the ends of his curls and they were flicking at his neck, his cheeks, his forehead. No way would he grow it to ponytail length. No way.
‘I might just shave it all off.’
‘Your hair?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ll shave mine too, then.’
‘Okay.’
‘What do you think of a moustache?’
‘I try not to think of them.’
And on they ran.
‘So cool,’ Drew said as they passed the pristine tennis court all on its own. It was as if it had positioned itself purely to take in the view all day every day, whether or not anyone came by for a game.
‘Do you play?’ Taylor asked.
‘Yeah. Love it. You?’
‘No. Say Drew – is there anything you can’t do?’
For the next two miles Drew considered this. He really thought about it. He thought about it so hard, so determinedly, that Taylor had forgotten he’d even asked the question when Drew finally answered.
‘Can’t seem to get a girlfriend,’ Drew said. ‘Not a nice one, anyway.’
This surprised Taylor but he felt tired and he didn’t want to talk just then. So they just kept running.
‘I swear there’s something in my shoe.’
‘You need to stop?’
‘No.’
‘Hey Taylor – Sean Connery or Daniel Craig?’
‘Connery every day of the week.’
‘He’s Scottish, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Margot Robbie or Megan Fox?’
‘I hate you.’
‘Sure you do but choose you must.’
‘Jeesh, Yoda – this road keeps going and going.’
Then, from behind them, just when they needed it most, there came a chorus of car horns.
A small red car first, tooting merrily as it hared along, followed by an ancient Land Rover parping as it chugged passed, driven by an ancient woman with a dog on her lap yapping its little heart out.
And then Dougie’s car pulled alongside, slowing right down so that he and JB could urge them on for a few yards before they headed away and the road turned sharply and they were all gone from view.
It was eerily quiet for a while before Drew and Taylor tuned in to the rhythmic pounding of their two sets of feet.
Finally they reached the long curving descent to Bunavoneader.
Fluid supplies good. Still three gels each.
The Eagle Observatory.
The tall redbrick chimney of the early twentieth century whaling station.
Thirteen miles done.
Neither of them wanted to say half way out loud.
‘A station for whales and a bus stop for sheep,’ Taylor said instead. Both seemed perfectly logical just then.