I do not own the show Gravity Falls or any of the characters. They are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of the show's creator, Alex Hirsch. I earn no money from writing my fanfictions; I do them out of love for the show, for practice writing, and to amuse myself and, I hope, other readers.
Running Start
(January 25, 2018)
The first track and field meet of the season began on Friday and ran through Saturday afternoon. Western Alliance University was up against Sacramento's Grantland University at Sacramento.
And Mason Pines, Freshman, was in it for the 100-meter dash, the 800-meter run, the broad jump, and the shot put. He was OK in the two running events—at least he felt prepared—but the broad jump wasn't his best event, and as his sister Mabel put it, "The shot put? Really? With your noodle arms?"
Wendy, his wife, said, "Don't listen to her, Dip. You've put on a lot more muscle since your noodly-arm days!"
Everyone was jumpy. The coaches—there were three of them at the college level, not just one—were all demanding and the practices had not been exactly easy. The WAU Wolverines had tried hard, and now they faced their first test.
It was a cool afternoon in Sacramento, with temperatures in the low fifties, a wind from the south at about six miles per hour, and brief passing showers of drizzle. Coach McGee warned the runners, "Watch out for the track. It's not soaked, but it'll be damp. Keep that in mind and don't lose your footing."
Perhaps fortunately, the threatening weather kept the number of spectators low—though both Mabel and Wendy were up there to cheer Dipper on, the scattered small groups up in the stands looked very unintimidating. Jimmy Cobb, one of Dipper's fellow runners, said philosophically, "Well, man, if we screw up, at least there's not many people to laugh at us!"
It had been a year since Dipper's last track and field season, when he'd been a senior in high school. As he warmed up for the hundred-meter, he only hoped that he hadn't lost speed. True, Wendy and he kept in good shape—they did a four-mile run five days out of the week, though with the dreary winter rains of northern California, they most often ran them on a track when the days were wet. Wendy was a good coach, and if she had the inclination, she probably could have made the women's track team—but she only grinned and said, "One runner to a family, Dip. I trust you to uphold the honor of the Corduroy-Pines family!"
The hundred-meter was called, Dipper got on the starting line, and as had always happened before, he ran full-out. By now the short sprint did not offer enough of a challenge to spur him on to weariness and a magical second breath.
Strangely, though, time always seemed to slow. Objectively, his run lasted only 10.2 seconds, but it seemed more like that many minutes. It was enough to take first place, but only by a half-step.
He jogged a few more meters before slowing to a walk. Grinnell, the guy from Sacramento who barely came in second, said, "Good run, Pines. I thought I had you at the end."
"You might have if we'd run another ten yards," Dipper said. "Thanks, man. You in the 400?"
"Right. You?"
"No, 800 meter and then the broad jump tomorrow. Luck!"
"Yeah, you, too."
At least the dugout was heated. Dipper watched the 200-meter, then the women's 100- and 200-meter. WAU gave Sacramento competition, but WAU came out second for the first day's events. Dipper's win and one for Glen Terran in the shot put were the high points—Dipper's shot-put throw didn't register in the top three at all, somewhat confirming Mabel's opinion.
That evening, Mabel, Dipper, and Wendy had dinner at a nice place, Locale, a farm-to-table place that really was somewhat above their usual ceiling for a restaurant meal. But, hey, it was a celebration.
"How did it feel, Brobro?" Mabel asked.
"Good, it was good," Dipper said. "But—you know—not the same as it used to be."
"Aw," Mabel said. "You won! That's big. That's big."
Wendy took his hand under the table and sent him a touch-telepathy message: What's wrong, Dip? You ran better than any of them.
Dipper squeezed her hand. –I know, and it's dumb, but back then I had more motivation. I didn't just want to win the race. I wanted to win you!
"Are you two doing that creepy thought-reading thing you do?" Mabel asked suspiciously.
Wendy laughed. "You got me," she told Mabel. With a sly glance at Dipper, she added, "You got me good."
The End