There was no denying that Rachel Jance was depressed; cocooned in a melancholy haze of grayness for the last month or so. She once enjoyed what her friends and colleagues thought was a great marriage with an equally great looking husband. They met in college but they held off on starting a family, and before she fully realized, that delay became indefinite. Rachel used the excuse that she wanted her husband to focus on his career. For the first 5 or 6 years, everything seemed wonderful.
But Rachel could never shake the nagging feeling that she was living a lie. And that lie was dragged kicking and screaming into the light one afternoon several months ago. Her husband came home from a business trip unexpectedly and found her in bed with another woman. She reluctantly came out that day as a lesbian, but Rachel was devastated by the hurt she'd already caused. She simply didn't want to admit that her marriage was (and had always been) a sham.
The now 34 year old insurance agent packed her things and left the beautiful house she shared with her husband and moved into an apartment across town. Rachel considered moving far away, but in the end she decided to stay. Her hometown of Lanark had around 100,000 residents—not too big and not too small. She counted on the familiarity of her surroundings to get her through her depression.
Since her divorce, Rachel became somewhat of a recluse. She avoided small talk with her colleagues at work and her friends quickly became distant once news of her sexual predilections reached their ears. It was as if a curse had been cast upon her. It followed her like a dark cloud and she was resigned to accept this as punishment for infidelity and sexual deviancy. But as they say: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And over time, Rachel found her strength in running.
Today Rachel Jance was in a funk. She was in a funk that could only be cured by a nice long run. Running (and fitness for that matter) didn't always come naturally for her. The runner's high that Rachel looked forward to each morning was cultivated over several years.
In high school, Rachel struggled with her weight. Back then, she was a quiet, somewhat chubby and awkward girl. Pennock High School was typical of most high schools in the Midwest. It seemed like the teachers and the entire student body had this ridiculous over-inflated sense of school pride—all rooted firmly in athletics. Sports were everything and the jocks and cheerleaders could do no wrong.
It was already late morning and Rachel missed going on her usual run when she discovered that the persistent pain she'd been feeling in her heels for the last few days was due to the fact that the soles of her shoes were worn out. She scowled at the reflection in her dresser mirror as she gathered her shoulder length chestnut hair in a ponytail.
Rachel started out slowly, modifying her diet and setting small distance goals as she worked to improve her stamina. In the end it all paid off. She was average height and boasted a very lean, very sculpted body with smallish breasts and shapely hips. Her facial features were arguably handsome, and if she were to cut her hair, she could easily pass for a soft butch woman. She sighed as she zipped up her light windbreaker and headed out the door for the nearby shopping center. It was a silly notion. Rachel Jance wanted a butch woman, but she certainly did not want to be one herself!
Run Amok was a sporting goods store at the Lanark Lakeside Shopping Center. After deciding on the new Spiroaire trainers, the sales assistant boxed up Rachel's new shoes and told her that they would be waiting at the register when she was finished shopping. The shopping trip was supposed to be a quick in-and-out, but Rachel soon found herself browsing through a small section of books about running. Her eye was drawn to one book in particular: "The Healing Race: A Runner's Guide for Meditation." The slender young woman thumbed through the pages while her eyes skimmed the paragraphs, desperate to find something to distract her from the depression she was feeling.
The book seemed a little corny but somewhat intriguing. After skimming one last paragraph, Rachel decided not to buy the book. She started to head towards the front of the store when she heard a voice calling her name. The voice was distinctly familiar; gruff and acerbic. Rachel turned to see who was calling her name, and suddenly the young woman's breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened in shock.
There stood an eerily familiar figure from Rachel's past; her high school gym teacher, Miss Crawford. It had been at least 15 years, maybe more, since she'd last seen her. It was clear that the young woman was stunned as a lump quickly formed in her throat.
"Rachel Jance, is that you?" Miss Crawford wondered aloud.
Rachel's first instinct was to lie and tell the other woman she was mistaken. She was hardly in the mood to re-connect with her past, but at the moment it seemed that her past was determined to re-connect with her.
"Yes." Rachel heaved a gusty sigh and her mouth stretched in a tight lipped smile indicating her obvious discomfort.
Rachel figured she must have looked pretty startled to see her old gym teacher. A minute or two of awkward silence stretched and swelled between them and suddenly the young woman's mind regressed. "If you can pinch an inch, you can stand to lose a pound!" It was probably Miss Crawford's favorite saying, and the sound of the older woman's caustic voice haunted Rachel Jance to this day. She hated gym class and she hated Miss Crawford the most.
"What a surprise to see one of my former students looking so well!" Miss Crawford said. "It's been ages but it seems like only yesterday! Well, how are you?"
"I guess I'm doing all right." Rachel flatly replied. She was the furthest thing from being all right.
Miss Crawford was quite a slender and stunningly athletic butch woman in her early 30s when Rachel was in high school. Now she looked to be in her mid to late 40s. She was somewhat tall and slender as ever with very short, very pale strawberry blonde hair styled in the same bowl cut she'd had many years ago. Other than the obvious deep seated lines etched into her equally muted face, she looked the same as always.
She was wearing a light colored t-shirt and nylon running shorts which emphasized the coltish appearance of the butch woman's legs. Rachel recalled how daunted she was by Miss Crawford's menacing appearance and voice. And it was no secret that she was a lesbian. As a matter of fact, Miss Crawford was often the subject of jokes and rumors. From Rachel's perspective, knowing this made the gym teacher seem more frightening and somewhat fascinating.
They stood there talking for the longest time and Rachel was shocked that her former gym teacher spoke to her as though they were good friends instead of teacher and student. Miss Crawford was still teaching at Pennock High but now she was also the PE department head. Rachel wasn't really interested in what Miss Crawford had to say, yet for some strange reason the young woman felt compelled to confess that she was recently divorced and that she was still feeling depressed about it. The conspicuously butch older woman dutifully listened as Rachel spilled her heart out.
"I'm sorry to hear that you're going through such a rough time." Miss Crawford replied. "It must be very difficult losing someone you love to divorce."
"But that's just it—I didn't love him; not really!" Rachel blurted out. She was so emotionally worn she could barely think straight. At this point, her mouth moved faster than her brain. "He—he found me with another woman. She was a former co-worker...I lied to him..."
Rachel could hardly believe how sympathetic her former teacher seemed. For some reason, she kept thinking of her as this formidable task master; sovereign ruler of the Pennock High gym and locker rooms. That cutting, authoritative voice which often cowed Rachel into submission seemed different. The voice was softer now; engaging and solicitous.
