Gunnars Älskling (Entry 2) - Gunnar

(Most of the dialogue has been translated from Swedish for the audience's convenience.) 30 juli 2010 Barcelona, Spain A young man and young woman--obviously marked as Swedes--stepped out of the bus and onto the curbside in front of the restricted-access entrance. The young man wore a yellow shirt with Sweden printed on front in blue lettering, dark blue sweatpants, and a hat with the Swedish cross embroidered on. The young woman wore a light blue blouse and bootcut white pants and carried a worn blue duffel bag from her shoulder. Both of their outfits were complimented by matching Swedish yellow wind jackets. After the two had entered the restricted area and left the public view, Gunnar removed his Swedish team hat and set it on Gudrun's head, as was the routine. She needed to look official if she was to pass as his assistant, of course. Gudrun made fun and positioned the hat facing backwards. She always seemed to be in a mood for entertaining. "Cute," Gunnar teased. Gudrun softly sang a tune as they entered underneath the stadium, making Gunnar smile as she always could. They glided through the press area, Gudrun strategically walking on the side of the media aisle so as to be positioned between the reporters and the athlete. Gunnar was not such an athlete to be in high demand, and not many people bothered with him. But the Swedish press would most certainly like to hear a word from him. Though he was not insolent toward them, he did not want to make eye contact, for he knew they would stop and distract him. They eventually reached the track-level tunnel, and were promptly halted at the front by an official who checked Gunnar and quickly waved him through. He looked at Gudrun and held out his hands. "Stop," he commanded. Gudrun lifted up her ID tag for inspection. "Coach?" the official regarded skeptically, wary eyes seemingly attempting to peer through her eyes and into her mind. He motioned her ahead, but continued to eye her suspiciously. "You may only go to the end of the tunnel," he mumbled. "Listen!" Gudrun exclaimed as they paused midway through the tunnel for her to ‘inspect' Gunnar's track shoes, taking in the commotion they could hear from above. She set the shoes down after quickly untying the laces. Gunnar only smiled at her. He could think of nothing to say. They had already experienced these sounds on a few occasions earlier this week, but it was still every bit as magical to hear it in this moment. Gunnar habitually never untied any of his footwear when he removed them from his feet--he had done so ever since he had learned to take off his shoes. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his sweatpants to reveal his blue track shorts, then proceeded to quietly don his running spikes, tying them as tight as possible while they both focused their ears on all the noises coming from above. Once Gudrun had folded all of her friend's discarded clothes into the sports bag, they walked to the far end of the tunnel, and to the gate where they were stalled by another official armed with a walkie-talkie. He called out on his device, and upon receiving a positive response, he allowed Gunnar to enter through the gate and into the arena. "Let me take your jacket," Gudrun interrupted as she began to pull it off. Gunnar looked back at her laughably. "I can take off my jacket on my self," he stated. "Yes, but then what use would a spikskor tjej be?" Gudrun playfully asked. She tugged on both sleeves to pull the jacket off of Gunnar and simply draped it over her shoulder. "Go and win!" she said. "Ah. You know how I am not so good with 200 meters. I can only do my best." "Aww," Gudrun humored, "You would look so fine with a gold medal!" "You look nice with that hat just now," Gunnar craftily returned. "Shut up!" Gudrun shouted larkily in English, flattered and blushing. She reflexively readjusted her hat, though it needed no fixing. "You will win," Gudrun insisted as she shoved Gunnar through the gate. It was a short walk from the gate to the starting area--always easy to find the 100 meters start. Gunnar strolled until he reached his block and took a deep breath. His heart was pumping rapidly by now, and his stomach turned. "I am here so far," he muttered. For what seemed like a long while, he stood still and silent. "In Lane 8: Gunnar Svensson, Sweden." the announcer declared, followed by a courteous applause from some of the spectators. A quartet of young men nearer the track raised a Swedish flag and jumped up and down to make it wave more-or-less majestically. Gunnar sheepishly grinned at the display and waved at the crowds. He flinched when a cameraman suddenly appeared in front of him. He had only twice before been on television and was still unaccustomed to the camera, even after having won a silver medal just two days ago in these European Championships. When the cameraman had moved on, Gunnar hopped a few times and stepped over and in front of the "blocks" on his lane. He dropped down and set his body's weight on his arms, pushing his feet against their respective blocks to test if they were positioned according to his preference. Satisfied with the set, he righted himself and breathed deeply. Gunnar looked to his right and found Gudrun in the coaches' area. He gave a rather grim smile to the girl and saluted her in a final humorous attempt. He then turned his eyes back upon the track and stared straight down his lane at the finish line, intensity dominating his facial expression. He began to whisper challenges to the finish line. "It is all well, Gunnar," Gudrun tried to encourage him from her place off the track. She frowned as she realized that Gunnar had tuned her out and did not hear her. She set her hands together in front of her face, somewhat praying for Gunnar's sake. "Marks," was the order over the speakers. Eight runners bent down in their grids and casually set their feet against their own starting blocks. Gunnar respired slowly and heavily, trying to quell the adrenaline until the very perfect moment. He oddly bit into his shirt collar to reduce some stress, and concentrated on controlling his breathing. "Set." Gunnar firmly placed his spikes against the foot blocks, bowing himself over with hands holding his body up just behind the start line. He whispered, "Blixt* ," to himself. The tension was almost unbearable for Gunnar. He was an eyeblink away from initiation of the greatest challenge in his sprinting career. The virtual pistol cracked and resounded throughout the stadium, and the eight athletes launched themselves on their way to the 200 meter mark. Gunnar had started well, responding almost perfectly to the shot. He kept his eyes locked to that one horizontal line at the end of the straightaway. He kicked with all his might; breathed with his lungs' absolute capacities. For ten seconds, there was no thought in his mind except, Faster, faster, faster... When his stride seemed ready to expire, he found yet more strength to carry his legs. Faster, faster, faster... But the race began to wear on Gunnar as he came about 150 meters. Still he thought, Faster, faster, faster... but his speed now decreased. He had kept an excellent pace until this point, but he was now winding down. He groaned through gritted teeth as his legs began to strain and he fell behind. As he crossed the final white line, Gunnar knew that it was no medal for him. He eased his kicks and slowed his momentum, gazing upward into the stadium lights. He looked at the board. 7th | Gunnar Svensson | SWE. His time was a legal 20.78 seconds--a personal best. He was a bit proud of himself. He had set a personal record and had showed well in a high-caliber competition. However, he also could not avoid realizing the disappointment of not medaling. He had come this far only to be soundly defeated. He acknowledged the winner and congratulated him in passing before setting off along the outside of the track to return to the tunnel. As he neared the entrance, he was hailed by Gudrun, who was leaning over the railing just above the track. "Gunnar Svensson! Come here!" He looked at her curiously. "Come here, Gunnar!" she insisted. Gunnar hesitantly jogged over to her. "What is it, Gudrun?" he asked. Then he saw Annika and broke a smile. "Hey, Little Annika." Annika was in tears. She clutched Gunnar's 100 meters silver medal in her left hand and wiped her wet eyes with her right. "You did not win, Big Gunnar!" she cried. "Yes, yes, I did not," he admitted, "But I ran my best!" He picked up Annika and lifted her over the railing to hold her. Annika hugged his neck and wept on his shoulder. "But--but I wanted you to win, Big Gunnar! You are best that I wanted to win!" Gunnar chuckled. "I wanted to win, also." "Gunnar! Can you do that?" Gudrun gasped. "She is not allowed on the track!" "She has not touched the track yet," Gunnar observed with a sly grin. "Oh, you are so crazy," Gudrun said, rolling her eyes. Then, in one swift move, she quickly pulled the cap off her head and placed it on Gunnar's. "It is messing my hair." "Right." Gunnar patted Annika's head. "I must get back to the locker room now. And ‘doping'." "Doping? ** " Annika repeated, puzzled. "You must be baptized?" Gunnar and Gudrun both laughed. "No," Gunnar clarified, "It is what finds if one has cheated." He kissed her quickly on the cheek and then raised her up and placed her back in the stands. "You did not cheat, did you, Gunnar?" Annika asked before he hurried off into the tunnel. "Of course not!" Gunnar answered. He waved back at Gudrun and Annika as he jogged out of the arena. "Goodnight, Little Annika! I shall see you tomorrow!" He disappeared inside the tunnel just a few moments later. "Come on, Little Annika," Gudrun said, taking the child's hand with her right and shouldering her travel bag on her left. "It is time for us to go back to your mother's-mother and mother's-father." She led Gunnar's niece up the stairs to where the grandparents stood waiting for her. Along the way, Annika became excited. "Maybe the other runners cheated! Then Gunnar shall get the medal!" Gudrun laughed and patted Annika on the head. The two met up with the Svensson parents on the mid-level tier, all three of the adults wearing sympathetic smiles. They were all indeed proud of what Gunnar had done, but they all felt the same disappointment. For Gunnar to have performed so well only to achieve nothing much regarded as noteworthy was at least discouraging. "Give thanks to Miss Nygård, Annika," Brita Svensson instructed of her granddaughter. "Thanks," Annika said. "It was so little so," Gudrun told her, and shook hands with Gunnar's parents. "He did his best," she said. "Yes, he did that," Josef Svensson agreed. He held Annika's hand and directed her towards one of the exit portals. "Be safe, Miss Nygård." "Goodnight, Mr. Svensson," Gudrun said in turn, "Goodnight, Little Annika; Mrs. Svensson." She watched Gunnar's family leave the grandstands, lingered for a bit longer to watch the women's 400 meters final, and then left to find Gunnar. * * * Gunnar had just been cleared from the doping screening and had his bag packed when Gudrun arrived outside the men's locker room. He walked out with wet hair and was fitting his jacket back on his body. "Hey, Gunnar," Gudrun called to him softly. "Hey, Gudrun," Gunnar returned. He walked over to her and set down his old bag. "Will you be fine?" he asked. "Yes. I can take care of myself fine," she answered casually. She looked downward and timidly smiled. "Thanks for bringing me with you, Gunnar. It is very special." "Well...everyone should have a spikskor tjej, yes?" Even now as he joked, the young Svensson looked equally as shy. "Yes..." Gudrun said, her cheeks turning slightly red. Gunnar shifted nervously. "You...should go now, probably." "Yes, yes." Gudrun agreed, then smiled brightly at Gunnar and suddenly squeezed him. "It is a great time, Gunnar. Twenty, point-seven-eight!" Gunnar was caught off-guard when she hugged him, and he just stood still for a moment before awkwardly wrapping an arm across her back. He stuttered at saying something before deciding to just shut up and relax. When Gudrun released him, she was grinning as wide as Gunnar had ever seen her grin, and her eyes were sparkling all over. "Goodbye, Gunnar! Goodnight! We shall see each other again in Karlstad!" She skipped away and stepped on-board an awaiting bus. "Goodbye, Gudrun!" Gunnar shouted after her, "You are the best spikskor tjej in the world!" * Blixt means "lightning", a portion of a nickname Gunnar aquired. ** A döpning is a baptism, a similar word to 'doping' that might confuse a young child like Annika.