Lean on Me
Copyright© 2025 by Danny January
Chapter 28
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 28 - The continuing chronicles of Jack Pierce. Autumn of 1982. The chronicles, in order are: 1. Feasting with a Silver Spoon 2. Summertime and the Livin' is Easy 3. Something Fishy Going On 4. Centerfield 5. Tourist Season 6. Lean on Me They are progressive and not meant to be stand-alone stories.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
We drove to Hector’s house, finding his street packed with cars. I found a spot down the block and parked. We sat there for a few minutes so I could catch my breath and prepare myself for another round of people. Kim waited patiently.
“You did good at the center, Baby,” Kim said, trying to be encouraging. “The kids love Aquaman.”
“Not as much as Gonzo Claus. Gizmo is something else.”
“That’s the truth. Cassidy looked hot as an elf, didn’t she?” Kim asked. I thought silence was a good answer. “Did I look hot as an elf?”
“Smokin’ hot, Baby. Smokin’ hot.”
“Good enough. She has an actual, no-shit six pack.”
“Ew.”
“Nice try, Aquaman. You ready?” I was. We walked down the street and saw Mel, Bobby, and Lori get out of his car and join us walking up. I guessed they’d been waiting for us.
“I don’t know about this,” Lori said, looking at the noisy house in front of us.
“It will be fun. You had fun last night. This will be more fun,” Mel countered.
“There’s food, right?” We could count on Bobby to put things in perspective.
“Let’s go eat.” I wasn’t going to argue with Bobby.
I knew better than to knock. As soon as I pushed open the door, we could smell the food and hear the laughter and music. Party. We worked our way inside. Kim knew that Lori would want to see Melda and Inez and that as soon as she did, she’d feel better.
I recognized a lot of the crowd, including Art, Hector, Manny and Gail, Luis and Romey, Papi and Rosalie, Bajito and Kathy, but there were new people as well. Conversations revolved around people and how they were doing.
Bobby connected with Manny pretty quickly, and the two of them filled their plates. I didn’t need to worry about Bobby. I stuck my nose in the kitchen and saw that Kim, Mel, and Lori had connected with their tamale-making friends from the night before. Good. I thought the first few minutes would be the toughest for them.
I thought Cherry and Mei had decided against coming when I saw them poke their noses inside. I greeted them at the door and dragged them in. Mei’s face. Oh, my goodness, Mei’s face spoke volumes about how totally out of her comfort zone she was.
“Listen,” I said. “Los Tigres Del Norte. Everyone likes them. Vivan los Mojados. What a great song. Come on in and meet people.” I doubted that either of them knew who Los Tigres del Norte were, and I was equally certain they’d never heard the song, Vivan los Mojados, long live the wetbacks.
“I have all their records,” Cherry said, and he said it with such a straight face that I couldn’t laugh.
I showed Mei to the kitchen, and her face changed when she saw familiar faces. Cherry and I filled our plates and migrated out back. Hector had borrowed two of our canopies and set them up on his patio. I greeted Art in Spanish, and he fired back. Cherry didn’t understand a word, so he said something in Chinese. Art and Hector looked at him for a minute, then busted out laughing.
“For you, Gringo, English,” Art said, holding out his hand.
The guys all wanted to know what Cherry had said, who he was, and all of that. Cherry told them, and they were appropriately fascinated. I was happy to listen and eat while others talked. The tamales were good. The menudo, I thought, was more of an acquired taste. I went back to get a refill of the tamales.
“Try the pozole,” Bobby said when I got to the food. “I’m not a fan of the menudo, but the pozole is really good.”
I followed his advice and got a bowl full. He pointed out the toppings and garnishes, and I added radish slices and cilantro. After one bite, I was hooked. It was good. Bobby nodded to me, “See? See what I mean?” He didn’t need to say a word. It was the bomb.
“Lori needs to be rescued,” Kim said, pointing with her head toward Lori. A young man I didn’t know had cornered her and was talking with her, or at least, to her.
“Can’t she just excuse herself?”
“She could, but she’s so polite and shy that I’m afraid he’s got her cornered. His nickname is Sly, but I don’t know him. Please?”
I looked at the two of them and tried to figure out how I was going to rescue her. Not my house. Not my party. Hmmm. I walked over, trying to formulate a plan as I went. How do you rescue someone?
“Hi, Honey. I see you’ve met Sly.” I put my arm around her. “Did she tell you about her brother, Rocky? He taught me everything I know about boxing, kung fu, and shooting. Oh, and weightlifting. Good guy. Will you excuse us?” Lori was happy to come with me.
“Rocky?”
“It sounded good to me.” We got back to Kim and Bobby just as Mel joined them.
“Did you know I have a brother named Rocky, and he taught Jack everything he knows about boxing, kung fu, shooting, and weight lifting?”
They all laughed. “Very clever, Aquaman,” Kim said. “Ahem. You can take your arm off Lori, now ... or I’ll tell Rocky.”
“Can I ask how you and Peter Tang are doing? I haven’t seen him lately,” I said.
“That’s because we’re no longer dating.” Her body language told me it had been her choice, it was a settled thing, and she wasn’t interested in talking about it. Good enough for me.
The party kept going until nearly midnight. We thanked them for inviting us and for a good time. Inez packed up some tamales and pozole for each of us to take home. “We always make too much. I’m so glad you made it, and your friends were wonderful. Siempre son bienvenidos.” They were always welcome.
“Inez, your English is better and better all the time.” She smiled in appreciation.
We left as they got ready to go to midnight mass. Out on the front yard, the girls kept talking. “What did Jack say to get rid of Sly?” Mel asked. Lori told her, and they laughed.
“By the way, I told Art the whole story. Sly is on his crew.”
“Okay, and?” Kim asked.
“They will kid Sly relentlessly. He’ll never live down that he backed off because of an imaginary superhero brother.”
“That’s mean,” Mel said.
“I know these guys. It’s fun for a month. Maybe more. Rocky will take on a life of his own.”
“If he wasn’t my brother, I’d like to meet this Rocky fellow,” Lori said, and we all laughed. Poor Sly.
We wished each other a Merry Christmas and parted ways. We drove back to my house and pulled in right behind Mom and Dane. They’d been at the MUSC surgical people’s party. There must be a real name for it.
Inside, we talked about our respective parties. Theirs sounded a lot like the one we’d been to the previous year. The big difference for ours was that Bobby, Mel, Lori, Cherry, and Mei had all been there. Mei and Cherry had been a big hit.
“I can’t imagine Hector’s face when Cherry responded in Chinese,” Mom said, shaking her head but smiling.
“They didn’t speak Chinese, and Cherry doesn’t speak Spanish, so they spoke English and did fine.”
“I have to give credit to Mei and Lori,” Kim said. “Both of them really stepped way out of their comfort zone and ended up having a great time.”
“What about Mel?” Dane asked.
“Everything is in her comfort zone. I need to head home. I’m super sleepy.”
Kim took my car. I tried to put the tamales and pozole away, but Mom and Dane were anxious to try them. After our midnight snacks, we all hit the sack.
Some families have Christmas traditions. Hector and his crews all had traditions, and it was pretty cool to be a part of that. I think most families start their traditions when their kids are little. We didn’t really have that. Franklin, being ten years older than me, probably had something to do with that. We always had a big meal, but sometimes we opened presents early, and sometimes we didn’t do it until the evening. That year, we decided to get together after lunch and open presents around two.
With a wealthy Mom, surgeon dad, wealthy engineer brother, and so on, money was never an issue. Being creative in gift-giving was the challenge. Being the youngest, there was probably more pressure not to do anything special than the other way around. I’d purchased and renovated a horse trailer for Kim the previous year, and that was pretty crazy. This year, we’d decided to keep the spending down. That’s a relative term.
Mom was quite literally worth millions. She had the education and some experience and could have worked full-time as an engineer. Instead, she did charity work for a women’s shelter, taught dance lessons because she enjoyed it, fiddled with her orchids, and cooked exotic dishes. When she said we were going to keep the spending down, what did she mean?
Franklin and Karen came, then Karen’s mom, Angela, together with Mom’s best friend, Veronica. Kim, Mom, Dane, and I rounded it out. For us, having only eight people was a very small get-together.
We gathered in the rec room and heard about Angela’s new job and Karen’s adventures at school. She was at the point in her education where she spent a couple of weeks in different departments of the hospital. She had just finished up in NICU, which was the neonatal intensive care unit. She didn’t know where she’d be next.
“Wherever I end up next, it can’t possibly have the emotional highs and lows the NICU does. It was rewarding, but I felt like a wet dishrag every night.”
When we’d caught up on our personal lives, Mom started handing out presents. I’d stuck with a theme, getting almost everyone a new sweater. I’d seen what they’d worn last year, and it was definitely time for a change. Franklin and Karen got everyone new shoes. Actually, they had ordered custom shoes a while back and loved them. They got them for each of us.
“Each package is kind of a kit. There are two forms in each package. You open those up and stand in them with one foot in each. Then, seal them up and ship them to the place in Atlanta. There’s a catalog to pick from, but once they have your feet on file, you can order other shoes.”
I opened the first of two gifts from Kim. There were a pair of long-sleeved western shirts. They both looked great, and I told her so. “You need to look like a cowboy if you’re going to ride a horse named Maveric,” she said, and everyone agreed. The other box was bigger.
I opened it to find a hat. I’d seen it before, or one like it. I liked it. “I’ve seen this hat.”
“Man from Snowy River. It’s the same hat Tom Burlison wore. You like it?”
“Very cool. I couldn’t have picked a better hat,” I said, putting it on.
“Looks good on you, Buddy. What I got for you is in the gym.”
I followed her outside and to my gym. It was hard to miss. “When did you do this?”
“Yesterday. You were busy.” She’d had a double pulley system installed, taking up most of the back wall. There were two racks of weights, with all the attachments.
“I thought we were going to keep the cost down. I’m not complaining, though.”
“You’re not the only one who will be using it, so I made an exception. I hope this does the trick.”
“I’m certain it will.” It was probably the last piece of equipment we’d ever need.
Back inside, I handed Kim a small box. She opened it and knew immediately what it was.
“Where did you find these? They’re beautiful. McTighe and Wallace,” she said, taking off the little gold studs she was wearing and putting on her new earrings.
“I had them made. Really glad you like them.”
Mom handed her the other box. It was fun to give Kim gifts because she so genuinely enjoyed opening them. When she opened the box, she didn’t say anything for a minute, just looking at it. “It’s beautiful,” she said, taking the knife out of the box and wrapping her hand around the handle. “Maple, I think. Full tang, just the right size for me, oh, and the crests.” She tested the sharpness on her fingernail.
“You really know the way to a girl’s heart,” Mom said, laughing that I would know to get her a hunting knife and that Kim would love it. Kim passed it around. Franklin asked which crest was which and if it had a specific purpose.
“The crest with a sword in hand is Wallace, which is Jack’s side. The other side is McTighe. Field dressing. You need a good hunting knife for field dressing a deer. This is perfect, and the steel is good. You can use it for everyday tasks, but it’s designed with a hunter in mind.”
Dane knew about hunting knives, and I could see that he appreciated that this was a good one.
“Okay, I got something for both you, Jack, and you, Franklin,” Dane said.
“And you, too, Dane,” Mom added.
“Me too. It won’t be here until tomorrow morning at nine. If you could be here tomorrow, ready to go, I think you’ll enjoy it.” We pestered him about the secret, but he wouldn’t say.
Mom and Karen worked to put dinner on the table while the rest of us had a foot imprinting party. It was pretty funny. We took turns standing in our two boxes of clay-like material, then labeling them to mail off to Custom Orthopedics in Atlanta. Most of us chose some sort of running shoe. I was pretty happy with my Topsiders for casual wear, so custom-made running shoes made sense.
Kim chose a neon pink running shoe that was bright enough to require sunglasses, but she was happy. Dane chose something for work that looked pretty boring. Mom ordered some dance shoes. It was a pretty fun gift.
Mom had decided to keep to traditional fare for Christmas dinner. I’m sure they have great traditional Christmas dinners in Russia or Peru, but we had what normal American people have for Christmas. Two things were guaranteed when Mom cooked a big meal. First, no one ever complained, because it was always good. And, second, if you went away hungry, it was your own fault.
Most of us had been up late the night before so after dinner and a bit of conversation, we called it a night. I walked Kim out to her truck. “Do you have any idea what Dane got for Franklin and me?”
“Yes.”
“Cool. What?”
“Not talking.” Huh. I kissed her anyway, and she went home. Her lips were sealed.
Mom and Karen also knew, but no one was talking. Fine. I went out to my gym and inspected my new pulley rack. There were two weight towers, each with a weight stack that went up to two hundred forty pounds. The pulleys could be adjusted from floor level to seven feet. You could do lat pull-downs or cable curls. You could attach a strap that would wrap around your ankle and do abductors and adductors. The possibilities were amazing. Setting it up for cable crossovers was a breeze, and the weight racks made changing weight amounts really easy. I’d seen a system like this before when Vince and I checked out the Coastal Carolina weight room.
After a good night’s sleep, I had a protein-packed breakfast. I had no idea what the day would bring. In the kitchen, Mom was making sandwiches. She was making a lot of sandwiches. Apparently, we were going on a picnic. This was starting to get mysterious. Dane wouldn’t say, and the women all knew.
At nine, six of us were waiting in the driveway for some mystery package to arrive. Franklin and I were the only two who still didn’t know what was coming. Finally, a trailer started backing up the driveway.
“This is a one-day thing, gentlemen,” Dane said.
We could see why. The trailer had three motorcycles on it. As he backed in, I could see that they were Harley Davidsons, and I even knew the model. They were Tour Glides. They had lots of chrome, hard case saddlebags, and a backrest for the passenger.
“I need to get driver’s license numbers for each of the riders. Not the passengers.” Franklin and I pulled out our licenses, and he copied the numbers. “You have experience, correct?”
“They do,” Mom said. Franklin and I bit our tongues.
“I’ll be back here at four unless you want to take them to the dealership on Dorchester. You’d need to be there before five. Just give me a call.” He rolled the bikes down a ramp, handed us each a helmet, and was gone.
“We have experience?” Franklin asked. “Mom, I had a Honda MR50 for a couple of years. Jack rode it probably ten times.”
“That’s experience,” she insisted.
“One down, four up,” Dane said, referring to the shift pattern. “It’s heavier, obviously, but the same in most ways. Clutch, shifting, brakes are all the same. We’re going to ride them over to the abandoned Giant Foods parking lot. I’ll make sure you’re both safe, and we’ll come back here and pick up our passengers.” Holy crap.
He went through a few more odds and ends, and we each got on. Before he started his, he said, “When you’re riding in a group, the leader rides one third of the way in from the left. You, Franklin, will ride one-third in from the right, and Jack, behind me. There needs to be at least two bike lengths between us. I’ll use hand signals to tell you what I’m going to do. Anticipation is key. Get your motor running,” he sang, and we chimed in, “Head out on the highway.”
With chokes on, a turn of a key, and a push of a button, our bikes roared to life. They were loud. My helmet didn’t do much to quiet the sound, but I loved it. Dane eased down the driveway, Franklin followed, and I eased off the clutch and gave it a tiny bit of throttle and followed.
Thirty minutes later, we were back. We turned our bikes around and killed the engines. “Ladies, I’ve determined they are safe. Relatively safe, at any rate. If you’re up for it, we’ll go for a ride. I have a couple of tips for passengers. First, when you get on, you become part of the bike. Don’t lean into turns, put your foot down at stops, or anything like that. We have that. If you lean, you could throw everything off. When you’re seated, comfortable, and ready to go, put your hands on his hips. Don’t wrap them around him. Just put your hands on his hips to let him know you’re ready.
“If you want to point out something, tap his shoulder to get his attention and then point. If you need to stop, tap his helmet. Don’t bang it. Just tap it. We’re going to take the Seventeen across town and out to Steed Creek Road, then back toward Huger. We’ll stop in Francis Marion National Forrest for lunch and then come back through Old Joe. Sound good?”
“It does. Why don’t we take 15 Mile Landing Road through Awendaw? Franklin asked.” Dane pulled out his map and unfolded it. Franklin showed him, and he nodded.
Mom stashed our picnic supplies in Dane’s saddlebag, then put an extra jacket or sweatshirt in each of ours. She handed out little orange earplugs. No way was I going to muffle the great sound. I stuck a pair of them in my pocket.
Kim climbed on behind me. I turned the handlebars so I could see her in the mirror. Even with her helmet on, I could tell she was smiling from ear to ear. We were really going to do this. Yahoo! We started our bikes and I saw Mom, then Karen put their hands on hips, then felt Kim’s on mine. Dane stuck out a thumb up, and Franklin and I followed suit, and with that, we were off.
Dane had let Franklin and me each try riding with him as a passenger, but we’d been going slow in a parking lot. It was a little different with Kim on back, but once we got up to speed, it didn’t seem to matter.
We made it through downtown, making all the lights, then cut across the Cooper River. I’d driven across the Cooper River Bridge hundreds of times, and quite a few times in my car with the top down, but this was different. Everything was different. It seemed a lot more like riding a horse than driving a car. As we passed over Drum Island, I looked right at the Charleston peninsula. It was flat. We really were in the Low Country.
The sound of the engines, the wind, and the view of everything was somehow liberating. I felt a shift behind me. Kim had her arms straight out like wings. I dropped back a little and made gentle turns in the lane, moving from side to side. She tapped my shoulder and pointed to the Yorktown. At first, I didn’t know why, and then I saw they had decorated the WWII aircraft carrier for Christmas. It was hard to see in the daytime. It would look pretty cool, all lit up at night.
We made it through Mount Pleasant without any trouble. It was really the perfect time for this. Traffic was light because of Christmas, but it was unseasonably warm. We passed the Avian Conservation Center and turned right on 15 Mile Landing Road. It must have changed names at the highway because we passed a sign that said we were on Seewee Road. Seewee Road is a quiet two-lane highway through farms and trailers. There aren’t any subdivisions. There are little thousand square foot homes built in the 40s and larger modern ranch style houses.
I compared it to Fort Johnson Road. It seemed like a good place to build a home, and I wondered how long it would be before it was all built up. Maybe never. Franklin dropped back and motioned for me to slide into the second position. I did. As we passed, Kim and Karen exchanged excited hand gestures. They were having fun.
After a long ride, we finally had to stop at the intersection with Doar Road. Franklin motioned for a left turn and then a right, and Dane gave a thumbs up. We went probably five hundred feet on Doar, stopped again, then turned back onto Highway 17 north. The detour on Seewee Road had been quiet and pretty.
A few miles up the road, we turned left onto Steed Creek Road. There was a tiny sign that pointed toward Twin Ponds Rifle Range and Francis Marion National Forest. If I’d been leading, we would have flown right past it. Steed Creek Road was deserted. About four miles down the road, Dane put his hand down, signaling that he was slowing. He turned left into a little spot by the side of the road, and we parked.
There wasn’t much to the Halfway Creek Trailhead, but we were all hungry and it was as good of a place to stop as any. “Pipes are hot. Be careful,” Dane hollered to us when he’d taken his helmet off. Kim stepped off to the left, avoiding them altogether.
I took off my helmet and hung it on the rear-view mirror, then stepped off the bike. “My hands are vibrating,” I said.
“Mine too. That was fun,” Franklin said, helping Karen off.
“Are you sure this Christmas present is for Franklin and Jack? I’m having a pretty good time with their gift,” Mom said. We all were.
Mom passed out drinks and sandwiches, and we talked about how fun and different it was.
“Motorcycles can be dangerous,” Dane said. “With a car, you have four points of contact with the road, and balance isn’t an issue. Statistics show that there are some contributing factors we are minimizing today. With good weather and light traffic, we’ve eliminated a huge percentage of the causes. No one has been drinking, and we’re keeping the speed down. Those are four of the major contributors. It took some fast talking to get Christie to agree to this.”
“How fast can these go?” Kim asked.
“Probably around a hundred,” Dane answered.
“Well, they’re faster than a horse, and smoother than a horse, and a lot of fun, but I think I’ll keep my horse,” Kim said, and we all laughed.
“We’ve ridden on trails around here, and I don’t think we’re far from where we went on the search and rescue ride,” I added.
“I never heard how Christmas at the center went. You both went to that, right?” Karen asked. Kim told her all about it. I got a little different perspective, hearing about it from Kim. Our two little reindeer racing around was funny, no matter who told it.
We packed up our trash, started our bikes, and turned toward beautiful downtown Huger. Huger, which Dane had learned to pronounce as you-JEE, was so small there wasn’t even a single traffic light. We pulled up to the intersection, stopped, then turned left onto Highway 41. A minute later, we veered to the right onto Cainhoy Road. We passed the boat launch where Kim and I had parked when we went on the search and rescue ride. I’d known we were close.
There were a lot of trees. That’s about all I have to say about Cainhoy Road. It was quiet, with no traffic, but there wasn’t much to look at. It came to an end at Clements Ferry Road, where we made a left, merged with Highway 41, then crossed over the Wando River.
We passed the Wando Drystack, where you could put your boat in dry storage. I knew it would be cheaper than keeping your boat in the marina, but none of the boats looked as large as either Dane’s or the McTighe’s boat. We were back on Highway 17 and on our way back through Charleston all too soon. We pulled into our driveway, each of us gave the throttle one last twist, then shut them down.
“Thank you, Dane. Very memorable Christmas present,” Franklin said, and we all agreed.
“Cheated death, Christie. Tada!”
“My hands are going to vibrate for a week,” I said, rubbing my palms on my thighs, trying to get normal circulation back into them. “You’ve ridden before.”
“Maybe just a little,” Dane said, and we all gave the master of understatement the eye.
Mom ran inside like a crazy woman. A minute later, she came back out with her camera. “I never think to take pictures. Stand next to your bikes and I’ll take a picture.” She took several, but we couldn’t figure out how to get all of us in the shot. When the truck pulled in to pick up the bikes, the answer was obvious. He took a couple of shots of the six of us with the bikes, then we helped him load them onto the trailer.
“What a good day,” Franklin said.
“Good choice, Dane. I had my doubts, but this was nice,” Mom said. “I hope y’all don’t mind. It’s leftovers for dinner.”
I didn’t mind. Everyone else went inside. Kim asked, and I showed her my pulley system. We looked through the user’s manual. It gave your typical cautions about installing it correctly, and then dozens of exercise possibilities, and it seemed like Mom bought all the attachments we’d need.
“You’re already working on a new workout plan, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Swimming is over. Baseball is different. Triathlons are different. I learned a lot by doing the one triathlon down in Savannah. I want to keep building strength, but I think my focus for swimming, biking, and running is a lot more about endurance than it is about speed.”
“Natalie has both speed and endurance,” Kim countered.
“Yeah. She has it in a crazy way. I already added a couple of exercises and I’ll be adding more with the pulleys. I have to sort it out.”
“Not tonight, though. Let’s go get some leftovers.”
Veronica and Angela joined us for leftovers. We shared our motorcycle adventure with them. When Angela asked if I was going to get a motorcycle, Mom froze. I knew the look. Don’t give him any ideas.
“I have a horse,” I said and kept eating. Kim smiled. Mom smiled. “It was fun. I’m glad we did it. Harley Davidsons sound pretty cool, especially when there’s three of them.”
“There are,” Mom corrected.
“Especially when there are three of them.”
Angela said, “I saw a bunch of motorcycles riding through town last week. It was Toys for Tots or something like that. There must have been two hundred of them. They just kept coming. A motorcycle cop was at the intersection, stopping traffic for them. Very loud, but very cool. A couple of them had teddy bears strapped to the back seat. Funny.”
After dinner, Kim and Veronica dressed the dogs as reindeer again, and we enjoyed watching them race around the house. They seemed to be having fun, and they definitely knew they were the centers of attention. What a couple of hams.
On Saturday morning, I picked up Kim and we drove to school. Marty was in town, and he was there. So were Vince, Cherry, and Coach Miller. We sat around in the coach’s conference room and talked about triathlons and how to train for one. Kim was there because she’d been thinking about running cross country. She liked the idea of running a longer distance and thought she would be competitive. I told her the cross-country season was in late summer, and she’d missed it. She still liked the idea of competing at longer distances.
Coach asked me to share the training routine I’d figured out, and the guys took turns trying to find fault with it. Each of us had a strength and a weakness. Marty was strongest on the bike and weakest on the swim. Vince and Cherry were both weak on the swim. I was weakest on the bike.
“What about you, Coach? We all suspect you can swim. What’s your weakness?” Vince asked.
“I’d say I’m stronger on the run, but it probably depends on the distance. If your weakness is the swim, starting off with a one-mile swim will be a serious challenge.”
“Don’t remind me,” Marty said. “I felt like I was playing catch-up for the entire race.”
“Which is worse, playing catch-up or getting passed?” I asked. It was something I was familiar with.
“I think it’s pretty rare for someone to lead a race from start to finish,” Coach said.
“Vince and I ran with a world-class marathon runner last week. She uses a heart rate monitor. I think she uses it like a tachometer.”
That got Coach Miller’s attention. “That’s an interesting approach. If you knew what your red line was, you could race just below that. It seems like it would be different for different distances.”
“What do you mean?” Vince asked.