Transition: Chapter 16 (Copley Square)

They stroll out of the Square and past the medical tent, winding up in back of the bleachers that line the sidewalk in front of the library. Gusts of race noise drift in from the other side of the bleachers; just as Jillian starts to talk, she’s drowned out by the blare of a loudspeaker heralding the arrival of yet another group of runners crossing the finish line.

“Wait,” Jago says, holding up a hand as Jillian tries to speak again. He looks over his shoulder, walks a few more steps, then looks back again. “Tell me,” he finally says, when he’s certain that Leida hasn’t followed them.

“You’re sure it’s OK?” Jillian teases. “Maybe she’s in disguise.” But Jago doesn’t bite, he just stares at her expectantly, so Jillian sighs and recounts the scene in the tent. Without embellishment, she describes her dramatic entry into the tent, her angry confrontation with Valerie, and Sunshine’s unexpected arrival that defused the situation.

“Now you see why it is never a good idea, Jillian,” Jago observes dryly, “to offend a Race Director. Certainly not the Director of the race in which you are competing.”

“Oh, you heard about that.” Jillian grimaces. “It was an accident, Jago, I didn’t know she was standing there. And anyway, it’s cool, I took her aside and apologized to her, a bunch of times, everything’s okay. I mean, it’s not like she’s my BFF or anything, but...”

“You apologized? That is very commendable, Jillian,” Jago says, with a hint of sarcasm. “And not like you at all.”

She laughs. “Jago, I may want to race here again next year. And she probably knows every other RD in the whole goddamn country. I don’t need her to be pissed off at me.”

“That is good,” Jago says, nodding with approval. “But I have also a question about your performance today. The Sunshine woman claims that you suggested some kind of race to an aid station, is that right?” He eyes Jillian knowingly. “She was under the impression that you were helping her to improve her performance. You will forgive my skepticism if I disbelieve that explanation.”

“It was just strategy, Jago. I was trying to wear her out. You should have seen her.” Jillian giggles. “She just smacked into that photographer, BOOM, just like that, and then she knocked over like half a dozen volunteers – and the table, Jago I almost forgot, they knocked over this table...” – Jillian is laughing so hard that her eyes begin to water – “...table, BOOM, coke, oranges, bananas flying all over the place – God, it was a riot. Too much.”

“I fail to see the humor, Jillian. She might have been seriously injured. And you could have exhausted yourself with this foolish sprint. You should know better.”

They’ve reached the corner, and Jillian looks left, up Exeter Street. “Can we circle the block? Or should we just turn around and...”

“And what is this ‘strategy’ you speak of? I find it hard to believe that this... this urchin posed any serious threat...” The light dawns; he snaps his fingers. “Now I understand,” he says with calm certainty. “There were only three awards for women in this race. You were not helping yourself, you were helping your friend Kristin, yes? Look at me, Jillian,” he says, angrily. “Look me in the eye and tell me that I am wrong.”

“Jago, c’mon.” Jillian glances around warily. “People can hear you.”

“Do you think this is some kind of game?” Jago lowers his voice, but it has grown cold. “Jillian, if you had taken this chance for yourself, I would not be upset. Risk is an element of any competition. But not unnecessary risk. Under no conditions do you take a chance for someone else. Ever. That is not an intelligent risk. That is a foolish gamble. This has become an amusement for you, a diversion. You are wasting my time.”

Jillian rolls her eyes. “Oh, Jago, don’t be so melodramatic. I know you’re right. I’m sorry.” She sighs. “But it worked out OK, didn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t have even known they were trying to DQ me if Kristin hadn’t tracked me down, and she wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t helped her, would she?”

“Jillian...”

“And you just don’t know what it’s like out there, Jago. Sometimes it gets so... so boring, I have to do something just to stay awake. I thought triathlons would be more challenging than marathons, but...”

“The challenge comes from within, Jillian.” Jago pounds his chest with a fist. “A true champion has an intense, burning desire to win, and does not require a petty diversion to provide some kind of external motivation. I had the impression that you wanted to be a true champion, and I believed that you had the potential to become one. That is why I spend so much of my time with you.”

“Jago,” Jillian says, resentfully, “what do you want from me? I haven’t lost a race in five years.”

“And that is the problem.” He sounds more resigned than angry. “It has become much too easy for you.”

Jillian shrugs, as if to say, well, it is easy, what can I do about it? “Don’t worry, Jago,” she says, consolingly. “Maybe there’ll be more competition in the Olympics. You can help me train for that.”

“The Olympics?” Jago is puzzled. “It is too late to qualify for the marathon, as you know.

Surely, you are not thinking of trying to qualify for the Olympic triathlon?”

“Of course not, silly.” She grabs his arm and starts leading him back toward the Square. “You know that the Olympic distance is way too short for me. I’m going to be the first women’s Ironman-distance Olympic champion.”

“Stop talking nonsense,” Jago snorts. “You know as well as I do that the Ironman distance is not an Olympic event.”

“Ah, but it will be, Jago.” Jillian winks mysteriously and treats her coach to what she hopes is her most inscrutable smile. “It will be.”