Bryan Ran

Bryan Barsky woke up one morning and realized he was a failure. He sat up in bed and looked around his barely furnished, white-walled bedroom. Bryan’s glance then turned to his alarm clock – those ominous glowing blue numbers that read “6:55” – made him quite melancholy. “What’s happened to me?” he thought. Thirty-two years old with no family, not even a cat. Even the loneliest singles had at least a cat to call their own. Not Bryan. Bryan was an accountant. He lived in a world of numbers and figures, not of people and excitement. This all hit Bryan at once one morning and he became slightly depressed. He had to go to work anyway.

Bryan would have taken a cab to work, but he wasn’t assertive enough to get a cab-driver’s attention. He took the subway instead. Bryan swiped his metro card, just like he did every morning, and proceeded to make his way through the sea of faces. They all reminded him of sheep being herded into their pen. Bryan never looked at people when he was on the subway, but this morning he did. His eyes passed over person after person as he imagined their stories, and in Bryan’s imagination, they were all happier and more successful. Then Bryan got off the subway.

Bryan had worked the same position at Larry B. Rudman accounting firm for six years without promotion. In fact, Bryan was quite certain that his boss didn’t even recognize him. On one occasion when Bryan was taking his coffee break, his boss walked through and asked him

“Can you temps do something about the coffee machines?” to which Bryan could not think of a response before his boss had left the room.

His job had become rote. That’s what six years of doing the same thing will do to a man. Audit after audit and page after page would go through Bryan’s desk. He sat that morning at his desk covered with papers, let out a big sigh, and began to work on his first document. Bryan was broken from his trance upon hearing a couple of his coworker’s voices. He glanced at his watch. It was already noon.

“This will be my second marathon” said one of them pompously.

“Only your second? This will be my third! First in Chicago though” retorted the other.

“A marathon” thought Bryan. The idea had never occurred to him before. Bryan went back to his work, but his mind was on the marathon. He reached over to pick up his donut and stopped mid-bite. He looked down and upon seeing his gut, realized he was in no shape for a marathon. Something needed to change immediately. Bryan was stuck. He was stuck between wanting to change, and not having the drive to do anything about it, between a mediocre life and a life he could be proud of. What better solution to apathy than an endeavor requiring unrelenting passion. Bryan was going to run the marathon.

The Bank of America Chicago Marathon was about six months and two weeks away, and Bryan couldn’t afford to lose any time. Being the analyst that he was, Bryan pulled up every article on marathon running that he could find. He frantically filled page after page of his steno pad with notes on how long it takes to train, a proper diet, a proper sleep schedule, the proper running gear, and the list went on. This was the first time Bryan could think of that he cared about accomplishing something so much.

The clock read 5:55 as Bryan sat up in bed. The sun hadn’t even come out yet which made it near impossible for Bryan to drag himself out of bed. He wasn’t as motivated as he was the day before when he made his initial resolution. After much self-coercion he did get up though, and after looking at himself in the mirror he realized why he was getting up at such an ungodly hour to put his body through so much pain. Bryan looked at himself and saw wasted years, and now it was time to redeem those years. His goal was to run three miles that morning. His feet pounded the pavement as he inhaled the cold morning air. He held his head high and took strong strides. He was unstoppable. Until about three minutes into his run, Bryan began to feel a small pinch in his side, right underneath his rib cage that only grew with each successive stride. The pain was unbearable. Bryan had to stop. He slumped over onto the nearest park bench, panting and wheezing. He began to think again that he was a failure. Joggers were scattered across the park that morning, each running in a determined trance. Bryan sat, with his head between his knees, thinking that he would never be able to measure up to them.

“Did you eat breakfast?” a voice said.

“What?” Bryan looked up to see another jogger who was taking her water break.

“Did you eat breakfast? I noticed you were holding your side. My side always aches if I try to run on an empty stomach.”

Bryan stared dumbfounded back up toward the jogger; he knew he looked like an idiot. Talking to women was never his strong point. She had just finished running and it looked to Bryan as if she hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“I’m Melissa by the way.” And as she turned to leave, she looked back at Bryan with a smile…“keep it up. You’ll get there.”

Something about the way she said that made Bryan actually believe it. The next day, he got up to run again.

After a couple weeks of training, he no longer had that ache in his side. In fact, Bryan could run for three miles straight. Every day he would walk into Rudman and sit at his cubicle with a banana and a bottle of water. Bryan could barely lift his burning eyes from his work. Running was making him tired, and staring at a computer screen all day wasn’t doing much to help. As he was fighting to retain his consciousness, his boss passed by his desk.

“Late night Barsky?”

“No sir. It’s just that I’ve been running--”

“Leave that at home Barsky, right now it’s time to focus on the task at hand.”

Bryan was discouraged. He was losing focus at work and now his boss was taking notice. But when Bryan realized that his boss actually addressed him individually, and by name at that, he didn’t seem to mind too much.

It was now September, and Bryan was still running. He got up faithfully at the crack of dawn because he refused to quit. He had almost nothing to lose and everything to gain. When he felt that pain in his side, that was his social shortcomings; when he had run so long his lungs ached, that was his job; and when he heard that voice in his head that said “just give up,” the same voice he had heard all his life, he just kept running. He would not compromise. Not this time. It was another cold morning when Bryan got up to run. Running gave Bryan time with his own thoughts, time that he hadn’t given his thoughts before. He began to think about how much he had changed over the past five months, who he was and what he was becoming. Bryan was too deep in thought to notice the uneven pavement that he was running on, and with a sudden jerk, his foot caught on the raised edge and tripped him which sent him crashing onto the ground. He grimaced in pain, but got back up to keep running. He couldn’t do it. The intense pain that started in his right ankle shot all the way up his leg. Bryan had sprained his ankle.

It was a grade 2 sprain, and Bryan was told to keep all weight off of his ankle for four weeks. He sat at his cubicle staring blankly at the tiled ceiling. “Why?” – he thought. That one question summed up the entirety of his frustration. The race was a little over three weeks away. Bryan was cutting it close, but was determined to heal in time for the marathon. He nursed his ankle like a mother hen and every day it got stronger. Three weeks after his injury, Bryan began his attempt to walk around without crutches, and on week four, just 5 days before the race, he had recovered enough to run again.

The day had come. Judgment day. That day Bryan would find out if his efforts would pay off or come to naught. There he stood, Bryan Barsky, no longer just an accountant, at the starting line. Looking to his left he saw Melissa who he remembered from his very first run. She recognized him too and walked over to wish him well before the race.

“How do you feel?” she asked him.

“I feel…” Bryan hesitated, “I feel like I don’t want to fail.”

“Fail? When you’ve already accomplished so much just to get where you are right now? Impossible.”

It didn’t take long for Bryan to realize that she was right. The gun went off and Bryan ran.