The Life and Writings of a Blind Women
Fiction Story Published in Scarlet Leaf Review
My fiction story titled One Hundred Miles has been published in the 2022 anniversary edition of Scarlet Leaf Review. This story is near and dear to my heart because takes place against the backdrop of the San Juan Mountains in Colorado, and digs deep into the why when it comes to competing or participating in endurance sports. I hope you enjoy reading this story, I dedicate to all the people who have guided for me, be it on the trails, on the roads, or in triathlon. These activities still are the number one way I cope with my vision impairment.
One Hundred Miles
Cathy Beaudoin
It was five in the morning and a full moon lit the peaks of the San Juan mountains. Minka and Amelia stood in the midst of a group of four hundred runners.
“You ready for this?” Minka asked, her hands resting on Amelia’s shoulders.
“I’m nervous. I’ve never run a hundred miles before.” She tapped the race bib fastened to her shorts. “Who’d have ever thought I’d be here today?”
“Just remember, this is a choice, the choice to go on a journey, the choice to find out who you are. Sometimes it just takes a hundred miles to get there.”
The two friends hugged and wished each other good luck.
“Have fun out there,” Minka yelled as she headed to join the other elite runners. Amelia turned and went in the opposite direction. Once the race started, she didn’t want to get trampled by the faster runners.
*****
Minka settled in at the front, waiting for the race to start. She futzed with her GPS watch, making sure it had a signal. Satisfied, she looked to the sky. Her goal was simple: to stay committed once the trails pulverized her feet, quads and lungs, and win.
“One minute, one minute to go,” the announcer yelled out, no microphone needed.
Tall and boney-kneed, Minka was inked from shoulder to ankle. Wearing a hot pink skort, white technical tee shirt and a fire engine red hydration pack, she adjusted the black and white checked buff wrapped around her neck. The tats told a life story, the bicep with a man’s head topped with green spiked hair, the thigh with a jet-black chopper, the words Running is Life stenciled on her left calf, just above three broken links from a chain. But from the neck up, she was untouched, her long brown hair pinched into a ponytail that dangled out the back of a white baseball cap. Surrounded by a dozen of the world’s best mountain runners, Minka took a couple deep yoga breaths and wished anyone within earshot a hearty good luck.
“Three, two, one,” the announcer bellowed. A horn blew and a couple of top guys, and one woman, charged toward the base of a steep, fifteen-hundred-foot climb. Breathing easy, Minka settled in behind them, content to see how the day unfolded.
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