MANASOTA TRACK CLUB

"What’s a granfalloon?" I asked Betsy Winspeed as we untied our shoes at the beach after our 11mile run.
She looked up at me and laughed.
"Where did you hear that term?"
"One of my friends read Kurt Vonnegut, who invented the word, and used it in reference to me."
"You could consider that a compliment in a way," said Betsy, "but perhaps he was calling you a distraction."
"Well, what does it mean?"
"Some define it as a beguiling project that will drain your energy, and steal your time away from worthwhile endeavors…or obligations.
"Do you think you were a distraction to this friend who called you a granfalloon?"
I glanced at Betsy, a kind and honorable friend who had seen her share of life.
"To be honest, I guess I was trying to get his attention."
Betsy twinkled.

"That’s what life is about, dear. You have to find your own way, but don’t feel bad if others have different priorities than you do.
"Now my granfalloon is tennis."
"Betsy! I didn’t know you played tennis!"
"Oh yes…In fact I was on the tennis team in my youth."
"What do you mean, ‘in your youth’? I still consider you quite young." I noticed her smooth skin and pink cheeks. Her hands were flexible and tan. Her body, while plump, was fit from all the running she did. She didn’t really look her 60 something age at all. Only her wisdom indicated the depth of her experience with life.
She smiled that warm Betsy smile.

"Granfalloons come in all shapes…As I said, mine was tennis. I played doubles on the high school tennis team. It was considered ok for girls to play tennis back then…We didn’t play basketball or run…That wasn’t even thought of. But tennis was allowable for a girl.
"I loved it….played it whenever I got the chance. So it wasn’t unusual that, after Ernie died, I should take it up again. I thought it would be a good way for me to meet new people and get back in shape."

"I thought running was your therapy," I ventured, for Betsy had told me about the difficulty she had had getting back into life after her husband had died.
"Oh, it was, dear. Running that was my worthwhile project, but tennis became my granfalloon.
"I had started on a consistent program of running early everyday with my lady friends.
"There are four of us and none of us is very speedy, but we are dedicated. It may have been because all of us had our separate agendas for why we were running…Mine, of course, was to overcome losing Ernie." A wistful expression crossed Betsy Winspeed’s face, but it disappeared quickly.

" I was doing everything I could to prevent myself from thinking about him, about anything really. Running was my way to gain some peace of mind and sort out my thoughts. It made my life calmer.
"I ran for over a year with my buddies; every Tuesday and Thursday morning. Never missed a workout; never took a break.

"And then came tennis.

"I thought I was ready for a little social life…something different and easier than running. I told myself I was just going down to the public courts to meet people in a non-threatening atmosphere…That’s what I told myself…
"The truth was, Esther, one of my running partners, played tennis. She was a widow like me and a self-confessed flirt.
‘ "Come on, Betsy," Esther had said, "Let’s go find those eligible rich bachelors down there on the court searching for someone like you and me."
"I thought tennis sounded like a nice change from the somewhat grueling training of running." Betsy smiled again as she looked at my expression.

I was shocked…Ms. Winspeed out to pick up men? That didn’t sound like her.
"I can tell by the expression on your face that you think I was acting really out of character. That’s why I call tennis my granfalloon.
"I had to ask my self: What was my real objective with my life at that point? With running, it was to gain some perspective, figure out what goals I was going to pursue and how I would bear up without Ernie’s support. "With tennis, it was to start getting out and socializing. I thought it was a harmless pastime."

"But you found out differently?" I asked.

Betsy gave me a meaningful glance. Her turquoise bauble earrings bounced as she made her point.
"I started playing once a week with this very attractive man, Sam. He was tall, gook looking, athletic. He seemed friendly and attentive."

"So what was the problem?"

"At first, nothing. We played doubles. We’d go out to lunch afterwards. We’d talk about our marriages. Eventually, he started asking me out to other events: a professional tennis tournament at a local club, a play, dinner.
"I started really enjoying his company. I thought we had shared some truths about ourselves and our lives." Betsy looked down at the sand and made a dent in it with her bare foot.

She continued, "I was shocked to discover I was strongly attached to him."
"Do you mean you were in love?" I was blunt.

Betsy looked me square in the eye.

"I guess I was almost there. But I found out something about myself that shocked me…I needed to be in love. Even after a year of running and sorting myself out, I still hadn’t become the independent autonomous person you see before you." She grinned.

Then her face got serious.

"One night Sam and I were at dinner…a very exclusive restaurant. He put his hand over mine.
"I thought, This is it; he’s going to ask me to date him regularly …or maybe even ask me to marry him…

"Really, that soon?" I asked. It seemed too fast to me.

"Well, I wasn’t sure about that…We’d only been dating for a few months. Personally I didn’t think I knew him well enough and I’d planned on saying ‘no’ if he asked me to marry him.
"As it turned out, that wasn’t a problem." Betsy looked sideways at me and pushed her damp white curls off her forehead.

"What he wanted to ask me was would I sleep with him…

"I know, I know…to your generation that doesn’t seem too shocking, but to me it was insulting.
"My generation had been educated to think that only a woman who didn’t respect herself would sleep with a man outside of marriage.

"I had thought Sam and I had an understanding about our relationship and where it was headed.
"I told him flatly, no. I told him why. My sense of my self and my integrity would not allow me to do that. I told him I was surprised he would even ask me that.

"What did he do?" I had to know.

"The reaction I was expecting was calm acceptance of my decision.
"That wasn’t what you got?"

Betsy shook her head sadly.

"At first Sam sat there in silence staring at me as if I had just changed into some strange creature.

"I thought we had an understanding," he said. Then his stare became stony "I thought we knew each other. Do you think you’re too good for me, Ms. Winspeed?" His look shot through me like an arrow of ice.…I’ll never forget that. I just froze in my chair.

Betsy rushed on, "I couldn’t believe it. This man I had been seeing for three months turned out to be a manipulative boor!  "I was crushed. All that time he had spent with me was not to discover what our common interests were or how we could be supportive friends to each other…It was just to get sex!

"Well, Betsy, not everyone would have been insulted by his proposition," I said. I was thinking of how many times I had found myself in the same position.

"Well, I was," Betsy was adamant, "Especially when we had discussed our views on relationships. He knew how I felt and totally ignored it.

"As it turns out, it was a good thing I turned him down."

"Why?"

"I found out later from Esther, when I told her the story, that he was still married!

"Wow!" Was all I could say.

Betsy looked out at the water.

"So that’s why tennis became my granfalloon. It beguiled me. It had no practical value and it almost plummeted me into another very long session of self-analysis while running."

Betsy shook her head at herself.

"I gave myself a good talking to. I realized that my running had allowed me to progress beyond being needy. While I had been running, I had finished working for and earning my freedom from sadness, lack and unworthiness. Why would I opt to participate in a sport that put me in contact with people like Sam? Why would I continue to go out with a man who hadn’t heard anything I’d said for three months…a man who was so focused on his own desires that he didn’t even recall that he had a wife?!"

Betsy shrugged, smiled and sank down onto the sand, patting the space beside her inviting me to sit, too.

She continued, "But my granfalloon taught me something: I found out a lot of people use sport as therapy. Some of those people actually need a therapist, not a sport. Their painful issues go deeper than any healthy exercise can heal.

"For while, the granfalloon of tennis had tempted me away from a sport that had actually provided me with a time to meditate and work on my spiritual side."

"You can’t really blame tennis, can you?" I asked, for I enjoyed tennis. I didn’t want my friend, Betsy to lambaste the whole sport just because of her unfortunate experience.

Betsy drew in the sand and thought for a minute.

"I guess not. But, for me, running is the therapy I need. The runners I meet may be no different than the tennis players, but in my experience those I run with are honest, listen, and have integrity. I’m sticking with running. I will never again be seduced by the granfalloon of tennis."

Betsy sighed, pushed herself up from the sand, gave a hand to me and pulled me up to her level.

"Come on," she said, "Let’s go get breakfast."

© Copyright by Sheri Bedford 1999