MANASOTA TRACK CLUB

"You’re braver than I am, dear," said Esther to Betsy Winspeed.

"I feel it’s time to take this step, Esther. Ernie has been gone four years now. I need to become independent." Ms. Winspeed had a slightly worried look on her face.

"Won’t you be lonely?"

Ms. Winspeed had thought about this for the entire month before she planned this trip to Tuscany. At home in Sarasota, Florida she had her friends, her running group, her tennis cronies, the knitting and book club. Would she be lonely on a trip by herself , the first she had planned since her husband had died? A trip to Italy?

"I don’t think so, Esther," she confided leaning closer. "I’m ready to cruise." Betsy Winspeed smiled and put her hand over Esther’s rapidly knitting one. "It’s time I went solo. Adventure, here I come!"

Esther’s eyes widened. "I couldn’t do what you’re doing. Couldn’t you just start off with a trip to St. Augustine? Why Italy?" Esther’s forehead wrinkled with concern.

"Italy was where Ernie and I honeymooned. It has to be Tuscany. I have memories there I need to revisit.

"It might be an uphill battle, but I think I’m ready to go. I’ve got my passport. My bags are all packed and I’ve rented a car for when I arrive in Firenze."

"A car? Betsy are you out of your mind? Do you know how those Italians drive?" Esther put her gray pile of knitting down on her lap and looked at Ms. Winspeed with a shocked expression. "Why not take the train…at least that way you won’t have to worry about the route."

"I know what you’re saying, my dear…an older woman alone on unknown roads…but I think I can handle it." Ms. Winspeed sat back with a satisfied look on her face and smoothed her dress over her knees.

Esther didn’t look at all convinced. She continued to stare at Ms. Winspeed.

"I’m going to worry about you the whole time you’re gone," she said.

And that was the part of the conversation Betsy Winspeed was remembering as she accelerated slowly up the steep hill to the stone villa where she would be staying for the next two weeks.

The trip from Firenze in her tiny rented car had been exciting.

She had located her Fiat in the rental lot, plunked her small duffel in the back, hopped in the driver’s seat and gripped the wheel with her gloved hands.

"I’m ready to ride," she had breathed to her inner self to boost her confidence.

Ms. Winspeed had decided to wear a pair of thin black leather driving gloves to give her the feel of a woman in charge of her vehicle.

Once she had left the airport and was out on the back roads, the countryside was shiny with dry heat. All the leaves sparkled. Ms. Winspeed started to enjoy the wind and the greenery.

"Don’t distract yourself too much, Betsy," she chided herself. And almost immediately, she was brought back to the business at hand.

Honk…honk,honk!! A driver of a small red car was right on her tail and passed at high speed with two inches to spare.

"Phew…that was close. And on this mountain road, too! How can they drive that fast on a switchback?" Ms Winspeed pulled over to a little grassy spot on the side of the hill to rest a moment and recover.

"Good thing I’m almost there." She noticed her hands were trembling a little. Had she done the right thing by coming here alone? Maybe she should have brought someone with her to help handle these tense situations.

"Nonsense," she told herself. "You’ve planned this, you’ve thought about it. You’ve waited for four years. You’re ready to handle any situation yourself. You’re a big girl, Betsy. Now prove it." She looked down over the hillside she had just come up.

The vineyards blanketed the slope like a chenille bedspread, flowing down to the valley below. Yellow hay fields bordered the leafy rows. Lush dark green forests rose on the hills opposite. She got out of the car. A sweet fragrance wafted up to her. She bent down to a clump of butter colored flowers.

"What a sweet fragrance this ginestra has…I wonder if I can make it grow back in Florida? Ernie and I used to pick bunches of it for our hotel room," she remembered wistfully.

"This countryside is just as beautiful and romantic as I remember it," sighed Betsy, and she ignored the little stab of pain in her heart.

At the villa, she walked across the tiled entry hall and up some stone stairs. Her room was cooled by second story breezes.

Ms. Winspeed unpacked, neatly folding her clothes away in the bottom of the armoire, leaving out on the bed her running gear: the usual bright blue spandex shorts and top, the purple bandana to tie around her wrist.

"I’m not going to forget my running, even if I am in a foreign country on the side of a mountain," Betsy told herself. "Running has always helped me sort out all my problems and it will help me with this one, too."

Over the next few days, Ms Winspeed considered her purpose in coming to Tuscany this time…Was she really as independent and confident at the age of 60-something as she hoped others would think she was? In her heart of hearts, she felt she was very different from the girl who had come here with Ernie so many years ago, the young and dependent bride of 20.

During her first visit to Tuscany, Betsy Woodward Winspeed had been a newly married, starry-eyed girl. This time, older, and no longer starry-eyed, she felt alone.

"But alone doesn’t have to mean lonely," she reminded herself. "I’m solo, solving my own problems…

"Look at all I’ve accomplished so far. I’ve arrived here in Italy; I’ve driven a tiny car 56 kilometers to a hillside retreat; I’ve asked directions in Italian and understood the answers…and now I’m going running. How many 60 year old widows can say they can do all those things?" But in the back of her mind was a small nagging fear: what if she couldn’t rid herself of her former life, her former dependence?

Refusing to allow it strength, Ms.Winspeed resolutely struggled into her blue spandex running outfit, laced on her running shoes and jogged slowly down the cypress lined drive to the lane that served as a main thoroughfare in these Tuscan hills.

She was alone with the bird sounds on a warm slope. In the distance some church bells pealed. Ms.Winspeed stopped to catch her breath.

The run so far had been slow and laborious up a 45 degree hill on a twisting thread of a lane. Cars howled or honked as they climbed at 60 miles per hour to warn descending vehicles that uphill traffic was on its way.

Ms. Winspeed knew by now that her best choice was to pin herself to the side of the hill when she heard those sounds. Italian drivers appeared friendly enough as they smiled and waved, but they passed her at high speed without seeming to care about the lack of space between their car and a pedestrian.

She looked upward to her path ahead. It was narrow and steep, not very appealing.

"Come on, Betsy. Chug along. You know how to approach uphill courses: small steady steps; don’t stop to look at the difficulty; keep your eye on the summit, your goal…small steady steps ahead. Always ahead. Progress. Think of your strengths."

She pumped her arms more vigorously and modified her steps to the steepness of the hill.

As often happened during runs, the surroundings caused Ms. Winspeed to reflect, "This steep slope is like my memories…they loom large, insurmountable to start with. I succumb to their power. I think I’ll never overcome the pain, but I plod ahead. The pace may not be fast, but it’s consistent.

"And now look at me! Here I am back where Ernie and I shared our first few days together as newlyweds. A few years ago, I would not have had the strength to bear this.

But now, I’m thinking the thoughts, seeing the reminders. I’m climbing the hill. The memories are still there, but the pain has subsided. I guess I have made progress."

Ms. Winspeed smiled to herself as she puffed along slowly, but evenly.

"I’ve developed an even viewpoint," she thought, " a steady pace. My years have given me that: experience in continuing no matter how steep the climb.

"Could that be my way of defining perspective? When I can’t see a clear direction over the hill, I just continue going on. Eventually the vista presents itself and I know what to do. Like reaching the top of a hill, I can see where I’m going and where I’ve been. And I know then that the rest of the way is downhill from there."

Ms. Winspeed felt a burst of happiness. She looked up and realized she had reached a small summit. To her left, a stone church huddled into the hillside.

Suddenly bells rang from the campanile. A murmur of voices and musical laughter floated out between the peals. She saw that large pink clumps of hydrangea decorated the path up to massive studded doors flung open.

Honk..honk! Ms Winspeed frowned.

"Wow, these drivers get worse all the time," she thought as she leapt once more to the side. From the curve of road behind the church, a shiny black sedan streamed by, white rosettes decorating its antenna. It was followed more sedately by 14 other shiny sedans all festooned with white crepe, all intermittently beeping.

"Of course, a wedding!" Ms Winspeed exclaimed as she stood at the roadside cheering and clapping till the whole parade had gone by.

"No one stood and cheered at our wedding, Ernie," she remembered. "It was all very quiet, but beautiful…" She mopped her brow and touched the corner of her eye delicately with the purple bandanna on her wrist. She took a deep breath. Then something occurred to her.

"I wonder why those people looked at me so strangely? Was it because I was clapping or because they had never seen a plump 60-ish woman in bright blue spandex before out in broad daylight?" She chuckled delightedly.

" I bet they thought I was in my underwear!"

Her mood lightened, she all of a sudden realized that her uphill climb was over. It had taken persistence and work, but really it was so simple. She had reached the summit and her answer.

"Ernie, see what I’ve done? I’ve climbed the mountain. I had to struggle to reach the top before I could see to the other side. I know what that other side is now…I’ve proven to myself that I can live my life solo. Age is a benefit. My years have given me perspective. You are in my heart and in my mind, but memories of my life with you are no longer the mountain I have to conquer in order to live life independently. I’m there…I’ve arrived at the peak.

"Now I can turn back and enjoy the downhill glide," thought Ms. Winspeed and she gazed out at the perspective…the lush valley stretching below her.

© Copyright 1999 Sheri Bedford