“Again!” Mr. Black shouted.

Betty’s legs trembled as she started running another lap, the 10th for today. She wanted to tell him to stop, that she couldn’t take it anymore, but flashbacks of her crying at night came back to her. She’s always dreamed of making it to the Olympics, and for that, she had to push herself to her limits.

“If you can’t run Betty, you can always quit.” He pointed out her wobbly feet before she reached the 10 lap mark.

“No sir!” she shouted, determined and out of breath.

“Stop!” he yelled.

As soon as she heard his order, she collapsed on the floor. Her body was too heavy for her feet to lift and her head was spinning. She wanted to drink water but her arms refused to reach for the bottle.

He towered over her shaking body,“Tomorrow, again, same time.” he said in a cold tone.

The school was empty by the time she made it to the locker room, and she barely did, holding on to the walls for support all the way there.

“Well, you look pleasant.” her friend Marjorie said, handing her a towel.

Betty groaned, stretching her back to fix her posture, “I’m being trained by a monster, Marje. He knows no such thing as pain or limits.” she sipped her water.

“Maybe that’s better for you. After all, he can get you into the Olympics if you’re good enough. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Betty paused for a second. Is that really what she wanted? Growing up in a family of athletes meant that she’ll eventually turn into one, sooner or later. But as a kid, she didn’t feel the need to copy her brothers. She ran because she loved it, it was her therapy for years, until she decided to aim higher.

“Yes, it is what I want, but not like this. I barely have time for homework anymore. I wake up at 4 and I go to sleep at 11. This is not the college life I expected.” She lowered her head, sadness and frustration all invading her mind.

Marjorie closed her locker and sat beside her on the bench, “I know things suck right now, but it gets better, I promise. I had a hard time too when I was a freshman, but now I’m much better. I got used to the full schedule and I was able to have fun on the weekends. Even if you did have more free time, you’re not gonna be able to enjoy it knowing that you still have practice or that you believe you’re lacking. Mr.Black may be harsh and rough on you, but he only wishes to sculpt you into the best version of yourself as a runner.”

Betty doesn’t usually like pep talks, she finds them annoying, and most of the time those who try to give her advice or words of encouragement know nothing of her sport or her major. But this was her best friend of 8 years, she had to listen.

Marjorie stood up, “Now let’s get you home, alright?”she smiled.

Betty smiled back, her first one today,”Alright.”

“If I wanted someone to run like a 9 year old I would’ve brought my daughter in.”He shouted, staring at his watch.

Betty was more determined today than ever. Marjorie’s words kept repeating in her head.

“Mr.Black may be harsh and rough on you, but he only wishes to sculpt you into the best version of yourself as a runner.”

Mr.Black gave her a break, and she walked over to him.

“How was I? “She asked, panting.

“Better than yesterday, worse than tomorrow.” he replied, eyes still fixated on his watch. She found it disrespectful that most of the time he’s not even looking her in the eye while evaluating her performance.

“10 laps in 15 minutes. It should be 14 minutes by the end of the week,”he said.

“Sir, that’s the world record for the 5000m.” she pointed out.

He tilted his head, “A problem?”

She blinked rapidly, embarrassed by her remark, “Not a problem, sir.” 

She rubs her palms together and puts her ponytail in a messy bun.

Mr.Black left the court as soon as the clock striked 6pm, but Betty wasn’t done yet.

She started off light, only walking the first lap, then power walking the second one. She picked up her pace on the third, and continued running.

The 14 minute timer on her bag rang before she could finish the 12th lap.

She sighed and started it over, making sure to save her progress.

First try: 12 laps in 15.05.34 minutes.

Second try: 12 laps in 14.31.89 minutes.

Third try: 12 laps in 14:13.67 minutes.

What Betty never realized is that Mr.Black has been watching  her this whole time from the faculty-only room. 

“Come on, Betty! One more lap. Go as fast as you can!” He shouted, clapping his hands whenever she reached him.

He didn’t let her off the hook just because she ran after her practice hours. If anything, today’s practice was even harder.

“What’s my record?” she asked, wiping her neck with a towel.

He shook his head, disappointed, “14:53.48. Not good enough.”

Betty had her doubts about that. Judging by her records last night, this one doesn’t seem any different.

“Again.” he commanded and so she obeyed.

Some people from her university pass by the track and just stand there, watching her. It happens all the time. To them, she’s not human, she’s a machine, and they could never imagine themselves running that fast or for that long. But to Mr.Black, she is just another freshman who likes to run, there was nothing special about her abilities or her determination, or so he displayed every time they were together.

“What about now?” she asked, searching for her nowhere-to-be-found bottle.

“Again.” he put his watch in his bag.

She was confused, that’s not an answer to her question, “Sir…”

“Again!” he shouted and she flinched. 

At that moment, something in her head told her to knock his teeth out. But something else calmed her down and whispered to let it go.

The 12th lap is always the hardest for her, not because she gets tired or overwhelmed, but because she focuses too much on the numbers he’s gonna say afterwards instead of picking up her pace.

“That’s all for today.”  he yelled.

She stopped halfway through her 11th,”Sir?” she shouted, the sun blurring her vision of him walking away.

“What about my record?” she shouted again.

“Better than yesterday, worse than tomorrow!” he shouted back.

She smiled nonetheless.

On Saturday, Marjorie invited Betty to Thanksgiving dinner with her family. Betty couldn’t attend, not while knowing she’ll get the news about the Olympics any moment that weekend.

She paced back and forth in her dorm room, glancing at the open email page on her laptop every now and then.

She’s never felt this anxious before, after all, these are the Olympics we’re talking about. She participated in national competitions. She placed first in her city and second in her state when she was only 16. Now, she needs to be first in the world.

A ring from her phone made her flinch, she picked up, “Hello?”

“School track, now.” a cold voice said from the other end, she knew who it was.

He hung up and she sat quietly on her bed, wondering if practice is gonna change anything now. But she shouldn’t lose hope, sometimes the news comes in late and she’s not even sure if she's getting it today. 

She gets dressed in a pair of leggings and a worn out T-shirt and heads to the track.

Her heavy gym bag sits on the bench, while she wears her running shoes. 

Mr.Black was nowhere to be seen, so she decided to warm-up before he made it. After two laps, she sees a figure walking towards the track.

“What are you doing?” he asked, puzzled.

She was even more confused, “You called me to come here.”she stopped running.

“I didn’t say anything about practice, Betty.” he replied, one hand on his hip and the other holding a file.

“Then what for?” She approached him.

“For this.” he handed her the file.

Part of her knew, but part of her denied it. She opens the file and sees her name written on it.

“Congratulations! You’ve been accepted…” She reads out loud. Her mouth wouldn’t function after the first sentence, her legs wobbled, just like they did after long practice hours. Her cheeks flushed red, joy and excitement overcoming her. She looked up at her mentor, smiling ear to ear.

“I made it?” she squealed.

“You made it.” he smiled, for the first time in 7 months.

It took her a couple of seconds to realize she was hugging him, pretty tightly. She let go and apologized. She jumped up and down and did a dorky dancy that she knows she will cringe about when she gets home.

“I’m going to the Olympics!” she yelled. Students passing by started clapping for her, some of them even stopped to congratulate her and ask her about how she managed to do it.

That last question ignited her thoughts. 

How did she do it? Was it her determination? Her patience? Her love for sports?

Sure, all these things helped her make it this far, but she wouldn’t have any of these traits if Mr.Black didn’t push her to her limits. 

She wanted to thank him for the days he woke her up at 4 am, for the days he made her run until her legs gave out, and the days where she had to put her emotions aside to run. But he didn’t force her into any of these things, he only showed her the way and she took it, she ran through it, without looking back.

Marjrie was right, now that her dream came true, she can see the importance of his rough techniques, she can see that without his methods, she would’ve never made it. What she also knew, is that he tampered with the chrono to make it seem like she was taking too long. She knew it was 14 minutes sharp, nothing more. 

She wanted to thank him for never giving up on her, no matter how moody and stubborn she can be.

She looked over where he was standing, and he was long gone.

But he already knew. He knew that she was grateful and so was he. He can finally brag about mentoring an athlete that made it to the Olympics.

And as for her, she had a Thanksgiving dinner to attend to.