She’s cleared for takeoff
Lily of the track and feel-good story
In our humble corner of the galaxy, Arria Minor is more than a track star. She’s a comic-book hero. The Supersonic Angel.
At the state championship meet, Minor paints a bolt of gold glitter on her cheek and packs nitroglycerin in her feet. Beat the junior from Denver East High School in the 400 meters? No way. When’s the last time that happened?
“Never in Colorado,” Minor said.
Well, can you keep a secret? In the 24 hours leading up to Saturday, two teenage girls huddled at Jeffco Stadium and dared to dream the impossible.
“I’m going to beat her. I’m going to beat her!” Lily Williams confided to Grandview teammate Leilah Vigil.
Beat Minor? In the 400 me- ters? Even to utter this upset plan in private, the confidence of Williams seemed preposterous. Minor had posted a can’t-touch-this time of 51.92 seconds in the prelims, which was not only the nation’s best of 2018 but also nearly four seconds faster than Williams ran to qualify for the final.
“I never really thought I could beat her,” Williams admitted to me. “I just wanted to see how close I come running with an amazing athlete, one of the best in Colorado.”
OK, to tell the truth, nobody
saw this coming. But stories too good to be true are why we watch sports. There’s no script, and if you suspend disbelief for even a minute, the impossible can happen.
On a day that spring forgot, with temperatures hovering at 45 degrees and rain blowing sideways from the north, Minor attempted to go backto-back-to-back in three sprint races, boldly chasing a gold medal at 100, 400 and 200 meters, all during a span of less than three hours.
In the 100 meters, Minor was a blur, a shooting star leaving seven other competitors choking on her contrail, winning easily in 11.51 seconds. But, as Minor stood on the podium to collect the seventh championship medal of her amazing high school career, she revealed a hint of vulnerability, hunching her shoulders against the wind while blowing hot air on her numb hands.
We sometimes forget our superheroes are also human.
“I didn’t come out here expecting a loss in the 400,” Minor said.
The 400 meters is one long lap around the track. The body knows it’s way too far to reasonably sprint, which makes the race either the ultimate Jedi mind trick or a battle royale between the brain and all the other muscles required to carry an athlete to the finish line.
As Minor exited the final turn and headed toward the finish line, the best female sprinter in Colorado prep history looked to be in com- plete command of the 400 … until she wasn’t.
“I came off the curve, at the 150 (meter mark), where I usually kick,” Minor said, “and my legs froze.”
Williams dashed out of nowhere, charging, reeling in Minor, stealing pages out of the “Seabiscuit” script with every stride. In a race Williams never led until it was 90 percent over, she beat Minor to the finish line with a personal-best time of 53.85 seconds.
“How did that happen?” Williams said. “It’s crazy. It’s a thrill. I don’t have the words …”
And know what’s cool? Sometimes, an upset is so improbable that there’s no explaining it, so you rub the shock from your eyes, unable to do anything except soak in the moment when sports once again nuked the script.
If you would be so kind, allow me a footnote, because it demonstrated how Minor runs to the beat of a champion’s heart: Less than 90 minutes after being shocked in her signature race, Minor stared down her disappointment when it would have been easy to curl up in a shell of self-pity and blew away the field in the 200 meters, winning the eighth championship of her career in a time of 23.60 seconds.
“It’s definitely humbling. It’s good to have these kind of moments. They hurt a lot, especially on such a big stage, in front of the whole state,” said Minor, trying hard not to cry and ultimately winning the battle to cherish her two victories instead of the race that got away.
But let’s close with a happy little scene that gave me goose bumps, and the shivers had nothing to do with the nasty weather but everything to do with how sports endlessly surprise us in all the best ways.
After an upset in the 400 meters too ludicrous for any sane person to imagine, the two Grandview teammates crazy enough to envision it met on the infield grass to share a hug and their secret.
Vigil whispered in Williams’ ear: “I knew you were going to do it.”