No More Distance, No More Time by Kris She got what she longed for, running in the mountains.

Photo used by permission of FreeFoto.com

The Usual Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to any person living or dead is coincidental.

 © 2010 All Rights Reserved

Kris knew she was different from about the time she started school.

Her name was Chris, and she was a boy. She knew that was wrong, but everyone else seemed to think that was just the way it was. So she went along to get along; if she didn't she got slapped down, at least in a figurative, if not literal, sense.

She tried to do boy-things, but didn't really enjoy herself, and wasn't very good at them, especially team sports. She didn't really fit in with the boys or girls, so she learned how to be alone. And she learned not to share too much of herself with anyone.

With no social life, it was easy to just immerse herself in work: schoolwork which came easy to her, and after school and weekend jobs to make money.

But Kris found one thing she was good at, and it wasn't particularly a boy or girl thing, it was running! Chris had to run on the boy's cross country team, of course. And when he wasn't running, Kris just watched the girl's team when she had a chance. Soon the after school and weekend jobs had to share time with running.

She entered some local road races, 5K, 10K, but of course it was Chris who entered. The entry forms all had the "M" or "F" check boxes. If Kris entered and checked her box, and was found out, well... It would be considered cheating. It would probably get in the papers. She didn't think she could live with that.

The Internet proved to be an eye-opener. Now she could put a name to what she was: transgendered. But she also learned about hate crimes against transgendered people, in the cities or out in the country, it could happen anywhere. The idea of being open about herself became even more perilous.

She learned what hoops transgendered women had to jump through to get legally recognized and to get corrective surgery. It seemed frightening and impossible. But she also learned about do it yourself hormone treatments and pharmacies that would sell by mail order without a prescription.

Chris graduated high school and bought a beater Jeep with cash saved up from Summer and weekend jobs. It looked like a piece of crap, but didn't need much work to run. What it did need, she could do herself on the cheap; it was good to know how to do some guy things!

Kris moved to Lake Tahoe for the mountains and trails surrounding the lake, and because no one knew her there. She rented a run-down cabin and lived alone. Chris could bicycle into town, or take the Jeep in bad weather, and work in the restaurants and casinos, mostly evening and night shifts, and Kris could run the trails during the day.

Chris got a pay-as-you-go cell phone, for cash. A restaurant he worked at let him use their address; he needed that to get his Nevada driver's license and for a post office box. She could pay cash for what she had to buy, or get a postal money order to mail off for... other things.

The place was really off the grid. No electricity or phone, and of course no running water or sewer. Just kerosene lamps, a wood stove and kerosene heater, a spring, and an outhouse. No house number, no street name, just somewhere down a dirt track off a 4-digit numbered county road. The old man she rented it from lived a dozen miles away and wanted cash for the rent, which was mutually agreeable. When he died the next year, nobody ever asked for any rent. Probably whoever inherited his place didn't know about the cabin. It was out of sight and hearing of any place else, and it was likely that no one knew she lived there.

Running every day, sometimes stopping for a dip in the lake or a mountain stream, heaven!

She was in the best shape of her life, tanned, slim and taut-muscled, but had no races on her schedule. She didn't want to have to run as Chris again.

There were some running clubs in the area that got together for group runs once or twice a week. She tried one. The second group run she went to, another girl came up to her and said "I saw a guy working in a restaurant who looks just like you. Is he your twin brother? Is he involved with anyone?". First she felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck! Then it was all she could do not to turn tail and flee. But in a second she gathered what wits she could find on such short notice and replied "Yes, he's my twin brother. We aren't very close, but I know he has a steady girlfriend. Engaged, I think.". She never went back to that group, or any other.

There was a race run in the mountains, the "Tahoe Rim Trail 100", a 100 mile ultra-marathon run on the trails around the lake. The first year there, she went to the start and was awed by how many hard-bodied men and women were willing to challenge themselves to 100 miles of trails that would take over 24 hours for most to complete. She was there for the finish, and saw the winners come in at 20:27 for the first man, 23:42 for the first women. God that's fast on those trails! Could she do that?

She saw the other runners come in over the hours, every one a winner for finishing, really. Thirty-four finishers, the last in over 34 hours. Some were high with the excitement of finishing, some were so beat they seemed almost catatonic, and a few were hallucinating and had to be stopped and sat down and reassured they were indeed finished with the race. Did she want to try?

Now her usual ten mile runs seemed so... puny! Once a week she started doing a longer run, 15, 20, 25 miles. There were no aid stations for her, so she learned to stash water and food at a few key points, so she wouldn't have to carry too much on the long runs.

On her best runs, she was entirely in the place and moment. It was like there was no more distance, no more time, just here and now. The miles, if they existed, just melted away. The time, if there was such a thing, just slipped by like the wind against her skin. Just the lake, mountains, trails, and Kris.

The next year she volunteered at an aid station 50 miles into the race, helping the runners get food, water, and electrolyte drinks. Other volunteers tended to runner's feet. A few runners dropped out here, sometimes with a wry comment like "Stick a fork in me, I'm done!". Most of the runners headed out again quickly, often with a friend who joined them at this point as a pacer, to run the rest of the way with them for emotional support and encouragement. Now that might be something she could do! As a pacer, she wouldn't have to check an "M" or "F" box on an entry form.

To get ready for the effort of a 50 mile run as a pacer, she did some long runs back to back, 25 miles or so on two consecutive days.

But the thought of pacing a 50 mile run was really just an excuse for more running. Running hours were the time Kris could think, about life, the universe, and everything. And her thoughts always came back to her own predicament.

She always had to be Chris or Kris. Chris had the papers, the birth certificate, the driver's license, the Social Security Card, that made him a legal entity. Kris was the real person, who had the lake, the mountains, the trails, the running! But outside the mountains, where Chris worked, Kris was like an illegal alien, moving furtively, with stealth, hoping not to be found out.

She wished sometimes that she could just be.

Like she was when she was running.

She wished sometimes that she could just run forever, until there was no more time and no more distance. No more Chris or Kris.

Kris went out alone as always that Saturday evening for her run on the mountain trails that undulated above the lake.

She never saw it coming. The silent, tawny, muscular cat, crouching on a ledge twenty feet to her left, waiting for one of the deer who often used the trail in the half-light. One leap, one bite to the back of the neck.

Chris didn't show up for work, and the boss was concerned. Chris was a hard working and reliable employee, and never missed a shift. He was quiet, easy-going, but hard to get to know. No one seemed to know where he lived, and though they tried calling for days, he never answered his cell phone or returned messages. When they called the police, they got brushed aside. The police said lots of young people in that resort area just picked up and left without telling anyone, and they wouldn't investigate unless a relative requested it.

That fall, a fire burned through a few hundred acres of forest outside of town. There was no damage except to a few hunting and fishing cabins. The authorities found a burned out Jeep at one, but they checked and found no bodies, so everyone must have made it out OK.

She got what she longed for.

There is no more distance, and no more time.

There is no more Chris or Kris.

Just Kris, running.

A muscular, tawny body, running effortlessly along the mountain trails.

THE END

Author's Note

Running mindlessly along old dirt roads and game trails near the lake I came upon the burnt-out ruins of a hunter's cabin and a Jeep. Taken with curiosity (and in need of a blow!), I poked through the ash and found a small steel box - a fire safe. The box yielded to the gentle ministrations of a mini-multi-tool. Inside was an assortment of papers and documents, including what comprised about seven-eighths of the story presented here. Thus I felt it appropriate to give Kris the author's by-line for her story.

The remainder of the story was compiled from these sources:

• Other documents found in the box.
• Back issues of the local paper.
• Discrete inquiries in the area, posed so as not to reveal my real interest.
• Things I saw and heard, or perhaps hallucinated, while running in the later stages of a 100 mile trail race, without a pacer.

Well, I did think I saw a cougar along the trail, and I had a feeling there was a girl running with me, too. But those are pretty common hallucinations, aren't they?