Gordon Ryder's Blues

CHAPTER 1: INVITATION Running along a leaf-covered trail in South Mountain Forest Preserve, Gordon slipped and slid when the path angled sharply downhill. An older runner would have cut speed, but Gordon was sixteen and had no fear of falling. He visualized in his head how he would simply tuck, roll, and pop up again running if he did fall. Keep your rhythm, keep your rhythm, Gordon repeated to himself. Go with the flow, RUN downhill. The red cloth headband Gordon wore to keep his hair out of his eyes darkened with perspiration as he ran. He couldn’t believe this weather. Here it was the second weekend in November, and the temperature reached into the high sixties, when it had been in the thirties and forties most of the week before. Still, the wind felt cool on Gordon’s face as he swooped down the side of the mountain in his scanty, brightly colored running clothes. Ahead of him the trail cut a wide swath through the silver and gray woods. Only the oak trees remained brown and bushy with leaves. Following the trail around the base of the mountain, Gordon spotted a couple out for a Sunday stroll about a hundred or so yards ahead. Two girls? No, a long-haired guy and his girl, Gordon realized as he drew close. He whooshed by them before they knew he was coming, but the guy called out “Hey!” at Gordon’s back. He slowed, turned, and jogged in place twenty or so yards past the couple. “Hey man, that’s a groovy shirt,” the longhair called to him. “How much you want for it?” “No way,” Gordon called back, and ran on. The shirt, a sleeveless tie-dyed tee shirt, was a present from his father. It pulsated with color; the brilliant starbursts of red, blue, yellow and green swirled together in truly psychedelic fashion. Running through the forest in this shirt, his long dark hair flying behind him, Gordon felt wild and fast and free. He shouldn’t have stopped to talk to anyone. It only broke the mood. This was the best: to run through the woods alone, with no one to worry about or answer to. As the trail turned uphill, Gordon dared himself to run even faster. Attack the hills, he exhorted himself. Pick up the pace, pick it up!