Work Text:
By the time Frank agrees to another charity 5K, he’s somehow convinced himself that the last one didn’t technically count as evidence that running has become a regular part of his life.
It’d been one race. One organized race, anyway.
There’d been several runs before it and several after it, and there’s been an increasingly suspicious collection of running clothes occupying one corner of his dresser, but Frank remains committed to the argument that owning 3 decent moisture wicking shirts and a pair of shoes selected specifically because Mel told him his old ones were going to destroy his knees doesn’t make him a runner.
Mel, naturally, thinks this is ridiculous.
“You signed up voluntarily,” she reminds him one Saturday morning as she leans against his kitchen counter with her coffee. “Frank, nobody held you hostage.”
Frank looks down at the confirmation email glowing on his phone. “I was manipulated, I swear. One second I’m on Instagram replying to Jack's story, and the next I’m scrolling past a 5k event for a local park. I swear… it’s like IG hears me… ”
“And even then, you clicked the button.”
“Yes but you also sent me the same event. Babe. I swear.”
“That isn’t manipulation.”
“You put a little running shoe emoji after it.”
Mel takes a sip of coffee. “Yea, super coercive.”
Frank gives her a look.
She smiles into the rim of her mug.
The race itself is still 2 weeks away, another local charity event with proceeds going toward pediatric programs, which is exactly the sort of cause Frank has difficulty saying no to even before Mel points out that the route’s supposedly flat and scenic.
The only unexpected development comes later that afternoon when Penny walks into the living room, sees the race flyer open on his computer and immediately asks what it is.
Frank’s stretched along one end of the couch with the Pirates game playing quietly on television. Mel sits near his feet, reading something on her phone while Penny works on a half finished drawing at the coffee table.
“It’s another 5k Pen,” Frank says.
Penny looks up. “The running thing you and Mel did the last time?”
“Yup, the running thing.”
“But it is the thing you and Mel did right? The one I cheered for you at. That thing right?”
“Yeah.”
Penny considers this for about 3 seconds. “Can I do it?”
Frank pauses.
Mel lowers her phone.
Frank looks at Penny, then at Mel, and then back at Penny.
“You want to run a 5K?”
Penny nods immediately.
Frank sits up a little. “Do you know how far a 5K is?”
She considers this for all of a second before she hits him with a flippant, “Can’t be too far if you ran it.”
Mel can’t help but hit a quick, “Oh,” before looking around as if anyone else heard that.
“Ima ignore that, but it’s 3 miles.”
“3.1 miles,” Mel chimes in, never looking up from her phone.
Penny rolls her eyes lightly. “So basically, like, 3.”
Mel bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
Frank points at her. “Don’t encourage that.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You have a face.”
“I usually do.”
Penny abandons her crayons completely. “I can run 3 miles.”
Frank studies her.
He doesn’t doubt that Penny can run considering Penny moves constantly. She runs across playgrounds, chases Tanner around the yard, races other kids for absolutely no reason, climbs things she probably shouldn’t climb, and seems to possess the kind of cardiovascular endurance only children and professional athletes have access to.
Still, there’s a considerable difference between sprinting after somebody for 30 seconds and running continuously for 3 miles.
Before Frank can say any of that, Tanner appears in the doorway carrying a bowl of cereal despite it being nearly 4 in the afternoon.
“What’s happening?”
“Penny wants to run a 5K,” Frank says.
Tanner looks at his sister just as Penny looks back.
“You’d probably quit after a mile.”
Penny gasps. “I wouldn’t.”
“You complain walking around the mall.”
“That’s because shopping’s boring.”
“You complained walking through the zoo with mom.”
“It was hot.”
“You complained when Dad parked far away at Target.”
“That was unnecessary, plus, I wanted to already be in Target.”
Mel laughs.
Frank drags a hand down his face.
Tanner eats another spoonful of cereal. “I could do it.”
Frank looks at him. “You too?”
Tanner shrugs, attempting a level of indifference that doesn’t match the sudden interest in his face. “If she’s doing it, it shouldn't be too hard.”
Penny narrows her eyes. “You’re only doing it because I am.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Frank says firmly. “Before this becomes whatever this is, nobody's signing up for anything until I know you can actually run the distance without collapsing.”
“I won’t collapse,” Penny says.
“That's what everyone says before collapsing.”
Mel finally lowers her phone completely. “They could train with us.”
Frank turns toward her just as Mel shrugs. “Not every run. Just enough to make sure they understand pacing and distance. They’re both active.”
Tanner looks immediately interested.
Penny looks ecstatic.
Frank knows he's lost before he even starts arguing.
He points at Mel. “You’re responsible for this.”
Mel smiles. “I accept.”
The first family training run happens the following Wednesday evening.
Frank chooses a nearby park with a looping paved trail because it allows them to easily shorten the distance if either child gets tired. Mel arrives straight from work with her hair pulled back and running shoes already on, while Frank shows up with Tanner and Penny carrying more supplies than anybody could possibly need for a 30 minute run.
Penny has a water bottle.
Tanner has headphones.
Frank has snacks, water, sunscreen, bandages, and something Penny swears looks like an emergency medical kit.
Mel stares at him. “Are we running through a national forest?”
“I just... wanna be prepared.”
“For what?”
He sighs deeply and he places his hands in his pockets. “You and I both know that things happen.”
“Frank.”
“What?”
“We're literally half a mile from a Starbucks.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Penny leans toward Mel. “He packed snacks.”
Mel looks at Frank. “For a 3 mile run?”
“They’re children.”
Tanner pulls one of the granola bars from the bag. “I’m eating one now.”
Frank sighs.
They start easy.
Mel explains pacing to Penny and Tanner with far more patience than Frank suspects he could manage because both children immediately want to run far too quickly.
“The goal isn’t to see how fast you can run the first quarter mile,” Mel tells Penny after she bolts ahead and then returns. “You want to find a pace you could keep for a while.”
“How long?”
“For the whole race, ideally.”
Penny thinks about that. “Mel, that lowkey sounds boring.”
“It gets less boring when you realize you’re passing people who started too fast.”
That gets her attention.
Tanner laughs. “She’s competitive.”
“So are you,” Frank says.
“I’m not that competitive.”
Penny turns around while jogging backward. “You threw a controller at the wall last week.”
“It slipped.”
“You yelled at it before it "slipped". And you do that alot which means you're not as good at Call of Duty as much as you think.”
Frank points forward. “Watch where you’re going and stop antagonizing your brother.”
Penny turns around.
Their first mile's chaotic.
Penny surges ahead repeatedly.
Tanner spends too much time talking and not enough time breathing.
Frank tries to correct both children while managing his own pace, and Mel eventually takes over because she recognizes that Frank is about 5 minutes away from becoming a running coach nobody asked for.
By mile 2, something changes.
Penny finds her rhythm. More importantly, Mel notices exactly how comfortable she looks.
Her stride becomes smooth and surprisingly efficient. She stops bouncing between sprinting and slowing. She settles into a pace that makes Mel glance down at her watch.
Then she looks again. Penny's genuinely moving. Not merely child fast, but actually fast.
Mel looks at Frank, who's running several yards behind with Tanner.
Frank catches her expression. “What?”
Mel lowers her voice. “She’s got wheels.”
Frank laughs. “What does that mean?”
“It means your daughter's faster than you.”
“I already knew that.”
Tanner overhears. “Hey.”
Frank looks at him. “I said Penny.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you offended?”
“I don’t know.”
They finish just under 3 miles that day, and Penny looks like she could easily continue.
Tanner's tired but still functional. Frank's sweaty and mildly offended by how energetic his children remain.
Mel can't help but be impressed. Within a couple of exchanged sentences, they decide to register them. From there, the race becomes a topic of conversation far more often than Frank anticipates.
Penny asks what she should wear, and whether winners get medals. Tanner wants to know if headphones are allowed. At Penny's second question, he reminds her that everybody gets a medal. Penny decides that's less exciting.
Mel tries not to encourage the competitive streak too much, but privately she's fascinated by Penny’s natural speed.
During their second practice run, Mel lets Penny increase the pace over the final mile.
Penny finishes that mile in a time that makes Mel stare at her watch.
Penny bends forward for maybe 5 seconds, then straightens. “Was that good?”
Mel looks at her. “Yeah.”
“How good?”
“Very.”
Penny brightens. “Better than Dad?”
Mel glances over her shoulder.
Frank and Tanner are still approaching.
She lowers her voice, “I'm not getting involved in that.”
Penny grins.
That evening, once the kids are upstairs, Mel tells Frank what she thinks. “She could finish around 30 minutes maybe less.”
Frank, who's pouring water into a glass, stops. “What?”
“Maybe 31. Maybe 27 or 29. Depends on how hard she actually races.”
Frank stares at her. “She just turned 7.”
“I know.”
“7 year olds don’t run 30 minute 5K's... or do they?”
“Some do. I mean it would be considered high impact, and repetitive long distance running can stress a young child's developing bones and growth plates. It's not super advisable and should naturally come with a walk and run approach but Penny seems to be able to maintain a decent pace.”
Frank looks toward the ceiling as though Penny might somehow hear them through the floorboards. “That’s ridiculous, I mean in a good way. Thats... incredible.”
Mel smiles.
“Frank, she's fast. Like, really fast, considering what she's doing and the distance, it's incredibly impressive.”
Frank puts the pitcher down. “Apparently.”
“She also enjoys it.”
“That’s the weird part.”
Mel laughs.
Frank looks at her. “You enjoy it too.”
“I do.”
“I still don’t understand that.”
“You voluntarily registered for a second one.”
Frank points at her. “Manipulated.”
Mel steps closer. “Right. The shoe emoji.”
“Exactly.”
By the time Frank realizes Penny's taken the whole thing seriously, it's already too late to talk her out of anything.
Not that he actually intends to.
He's standing in the kitchen on Saturday morning with one shoe on, one shoe off, and a piece of toast in his mouth when Penny comes charging down the stairs in a pair of running shorts, a bright T-shirt, and sneakers that look suspiciously newer than the last time he paid attention to them.
Frank pauses halfway through tying his second shoe.
Penny stops in front of him with both hands planted on her hips. “What?”
Frank pulls the toast from his mouth. “Nothing.”
“You’re looking at me.”
“I’m allowed to look at my own kid.”
“You’re looking at me weird.”
“I’m looking at you like I’m wondering where those shoes came from...”
Penny glances down as though she’s forgotten she’s wearing them. “Mel helped me pick them.”
Frank looks toward the other side of the kitchen.
Mel’s sitting at the island with a coffee in front of her, one ankle hooked around the other, already fully dressed for the race. She’s wearing black running shorts and a loose charity event shirt she has lightly tucked at the waist, with her black and white Nike Vomeros on. Her hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, and there’s an expression on her face that suggests she’s been waiting for him to notice.
Frank narrows his eyes. “You took Penny shoe shopping? When?”
Mel raises her coffee. “Penny said she needed actual running shoes if she was going to run an actual race.”
”Babe, she already had running shoes.”
Penny makes a face.
Mel doesn’t even bother hiding her smile. “Apparently those didn’t meet specifications.”
“They were old,” Penny explains. “And my toes were touching the front.”
Frank turns fully toward her. “Your toes were touching the front?”
“A little.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Mel laughs quietly into her cup.
Frank points at her. “You’re encouraging this.”
“I bought her shoes that fit.”
“You bought her shoes without telling me.”
“Without telling you? What, no, Frank, I texted you.”
Frank reaches for his phone on the counter and unlocks it. He scrolls through several notifications before finding the message from two nights earlier.
Mel: Taking Penny to grab running shoes after school. Hers are too small. Don’t panic.
Underneath it is his own reply.
Frank: 👍
He stares at the screen.
Penny leans closer just as Mel’s smile grows.
Frank sighs and sets the phone facedown. “Fine.”
“You literally said “thumbs up”,” Mel tells him.
“I was busy at the moment, we had just had a trauma roll through.”
“You sent a thumbs up.”
“Which is universally recognized as acknowledging a message without necessarily processing its contents. I’m sorry.”
Penny looks between them. “That sounds like a you problem.”
Frank slowly turns his head just as Mel immediately covers her mouth.
Penny, realizing she's crossed some invisible parental threshold, gives him a cautious smile.
Frank points toward the table. “Eat your banana.”
She goes without argument, still smiling.
Tanner comes into the kitchen a few moments later looking considerably less enthusiastic about the morning but no less prepared. He’s wearing basketball shorts, running shoes, and the event shirt over a long sleeve because the early morning air still carries the slightest edge of coolness.
He reaches for a banana from the bowl and looks around the room. “Are we leaving yet?”
“In 10,” Frank says.
Tanner nods.
Penny looks at him. “Are you nervous?”
“No.”
“You look nervous.”
“I’m tired.”
“That means nervous.”
“That literally doesn’t mean nervous, it literally means tired.”
“It could.”
“It doesn’t, I promise you.”
Frank reaches for his coffee. “You 2 are going to make me regret signing all 4 of us up before we even leave the house huh?”
Mel looks at him. “I think they’ll be fine. Won’t we you guys?”
Penny and Tanner look at each other and seem to sign a non verbal truce.
“Right,” they say simultaneously.
Mel watches Frank for another second before a smile finally breaks through. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
Frank nearly chokes on his coffee.
Penny makes a dramatic gagging noise.
Tanner looks toward the ceiling like he's already suffered enough.
Frank glances toward both children. “Everybody in this house has suddenly become very judgmental.”
“You started dating in front of us,” Tanner says.
Frank stares at him just as Mel drops her forehead briefly into one hand.
“Okay,” Frank says eventually. “Shoes. Water. Bibs. Everybody get your stuff. We’re leaving.”
That manages to redirect them. Mostly, at least.
The race is being held along one of the larger riverfront parks outside Pittsburgh, a relatively flat course that winds through paved trails, cuts along the water, and loops back toward the open field where organizers have set up tents, music, tables of bananas and granola bars, and a large inflatable arch marking the start and finish.
It's a charity event benefiting pediatric rehabilitation services, which is part of the reason Mel agreed immediately when Frank mentioned it weeks earlier.
At least, when she eventually found out he had already registered her.
By 8 in the morning, the park's crowded with runners in matching shirts, families pushing jogging strollers, teenagers in school athletic gear, older couples stretching beside picnic tables, and children who look far too energetic for the hour.
Penny fits right in. She bounces beside Mel while Frank pins Tanner’s bib onto the front of his shirt.
“Stop moving,” Frank says.
“I’m not moving.”
“C'mon dude, stop, stay still.”
“Dad I'm literally just standig here breathing.”
“You’re moving more than breathing requires.”
Tanner stills.
Frank finally secures the last corner and steps back. “Alright, you're good.”
Tanner looks down at the bib. His number sits a little crooked. As if trying to see if it's that much of a big deal, he looks up.
Frank sees the expression. “No, look you're fine okay?”
“It’s crooked.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s really crooked.”
“It’s a charity 5K, Tanner, not a military inspection.”
Mel passes behind Frank and quietly reaches over to straighten the corner.
Tanner immediately relaxes.
Frank watches her. “You couldn’t leave it?”
Mel smiles. “It was bothering me too.”
“Of course it was.”
Penny holds up her own bib proudly. Mel's pinned it perfectly centered as if measured with a measuring tape and centered with a laser. A part of him doesn't doubt that she's possibly off by a 16th on one side from how good it looks.
Frank sighs. “This family has standards I apparently don’t meet.”
“You have other qualities,” Mel says, before leaning in and kissing him lightly.
He looks at her just as she pulls away and pats his shoulder. “They’ll come to me eventually.”
Frank catches her wrist before she can move away and pulls her briefly into him. Mel laughs as he kisses her temple.
Penny groans. “Can we please not do kissing at the race?”
Frank lets Mel go. “It was just 2 kisses.”
“It’s too early for this.”
Mel looks at Penny. “You were awake before 6.”
“Exactly. I’ve already been through enough.”
Tanner nods solemnly beside her.
Frank looks between both children. “I hope you both get tired around mile 2.”
Penny immediately shakes her head. “I’m not going to.”
Frank looks at Mel ans silently she communicates that that part might actually be true.
Penny has always been energetic, but over the last couple of months, since Frank and Mel started doing more runs together, she's taken a surprising interest in it. At first, it was mostly curiosity. She wanted to know how far a 5K actually was, why people willingly paid money to run when sidewalks existed for free, and why Mel’s watch beeped sometimes while she was running.
Then she started asking if she could come on short runs.
Mel had taken her a few times around the neighborhood, careful to keep it relaxed, and quickly discovered that Penny had an almost irritating amount of natural speed.
She was small, light on her feet, and completely unburdened by the psychological tendency adults had to make running harder than necessary.
Penny simply ran.
If she got tired, she slowed down, if she felt good, she sped up and if she saw a dog, she briefly forgot she was running at all.
Mel had mentioned to Frank more than once that if Penny ever decided she genuinely liked the sport, she could probably become very good at it.
Which is precisely why Frank insists that nobody turn it into a thing.
"She's 7 so if she wants to run, she runs. If she wants to stop, she stops. There are no training plans, no expectations, and definitely no obsession over times. Today's supposed to be fun."
That's what Frank reminds everyone as they make their way toward the starting area.
“Nobody cares about the clock,” he says.
Penny looks at Mel just as Mel looks at Penny.
Frank catches the exchange. “Why did both of you just look at each other?”
“We didn’t,” Penny says.
“You absolutely did.”
Mel presses her lips together.
Frank points between them. “Whatever competitive nonsense you 2 have apparently discussed, I want it documented that I said we were here to have fun.”
“We're here to have fun,” Mel says.
“While running fast,” Penny adds.
Frank closes his eyes.
Tanner laughs.
Frank looks at him. “You’re with me.”
“I know.”
“We aren't running fast.”
Tanner shrugs. “We can try.”
Frank studies him suspiciously.
There's something about the expression on Tanner’s face that makes him wonder if he's somehow ended up with two competitive children despite his best efforts.
Mel steps closer and checks Frank’s bib. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Ankle?”
“Fine.”
“Knee?”
“Fine.”
“Back?”
“Mel.”
“I’m just ... asking.”
“I’m 30 something, not 90.”
She smiles. “And your bad knee?”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
Frank gives her a look but there's no actual irritation behind it. He knows she asks because she remembers and even mire because she genuinely cares. She remembers the little aches he dismisses, which shoes bother him after 4 miles, how much water he's had, whether he ate enough before they left, and whether the way he rolls one shoulder means something hurts.
Frank's learned that this is how Mel loves people. Quietly, constantly and without announcing it.
He reaches down and squeezes her hand once. “You good?”
She nods. “Always.”
Frank looks toward Penny. “Stick with Mel. Don't take off too fast.”
Penny nods. “I know.”
“Listen to her.”
“I always listen to Mel.”
Frank looks at his daughter.
Penny realizes what she has said and adds quickly, “Mostly.”
“That sounds more accurate.”
Mel laughs.
Frank turns toward Tanner. “You stick with me.”
Tanner nods.
“And if you need to walk, we walk.”
“Okay.”
“No trying to impress me.”
“I’m not.”
“No racing strangers.”
Tanner looks away.
Frank narrows his eyes. “Hey, Tanner, I'm talking to you.”
“I said okay dad.”
“You looked away when you said it.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“You're right because it means everything.”
The announcer begins calling runners toward the start. The 4 of them move into the crowd.
Mel and Penny edge slightly closer to the front while Frank and Tanner remain several rows behind them.
It happens naturally as there's no grand discussion.
Mel's simply faster while Penny is faster as well.
Frank knows his own pace well enough by now to understand that trying to follow Mel for a full 5K would be an excellent way to ruin his morning.
He catches her hand one last time before she moves forward.
Mel turns.
“See you at the finish.” Frank smiles before leaning forward naturally and kissing her once more.
“Try not to embarrass everyone.”
“I make no promises.”
Penny looks over her shoulder. “We’re gonna beat you.”
Frank laughs. “I'd hope so.”
“By a lot.”
“Okay, now you’re getting cocky.”
Mel gently turns Penny back toward the course. “Come on, speed racer.”
Frank watches them move up through the crowd. Penny reaches for Mel’s hand for approximately 3 seconds before letting go again.
Something in Frank’s chest tightens, not painfully but just enough that he notices.
Tanner stands beside him. “She really likes Mel.”
Frank looks down towards his son, Tanner's watching them too.
“Yeah,” Frank says quietly. “She does.”
The starting horn sounds before Tanner can say anything else and with that the crowd surges forward.
Frank immediately puts one hand near Tanner’s shoulder to make sure they don't get separated.
“Easy,” he says. “Let everybody spread out.”
Tanner nods.
Ahead of them, Penny and Mel disappear into the moving crowd. For Mel, the first half mile is mostly about keeping Penny under control.
Not because Penny's struggling, quite the opposite. The second the course opens up, Penny tries to accelerate and Mel can't help but recognize the effort immediately.
“Hey.”
Penny glances over.
“Easy.”
“I feel good though.”
“I know. That’s why we’re not sprinting at half a mile.”
“I’m not sprinting.”
Mel looks at her watch.
“You’re running a 8:40 pace.”
Penny blinks. “Is that fast?”
“For you, yes. Considering we're gonna be doing this 2 more times technically.”
“Oh.”
Mel laughs despite herself. “Bring it down kiddo it's okay.”
They settle closer to 9:30 minutes per mile.
Even that's much faster than Mel expected Penny to comfortably maintain, but the girl’s breathing remains steady.
Mel keeps checking her. “How do your legs feel?”
“Good.”
“Breathing?”
“Good.”
“Anything hurt?”
“No.”
“You tell me if anything does.”
“I know.”
They pass the 1 mile marker. A volunteer calls out their time.
Penny looks at Mel.
Mel looks at her watch, her eyebrows rise.
Penny grins. “Are we fast?”
“We're definitely moving, again, Penny for you yes this is... great.”
“How fast?”
“Fast enough that your dad is going to accuse me of encouraging you to keep this pace or something. Tell me if you need to stop okay?”
Penny laughs.
They keep going. The course bends alongside the river, where the morning sunlight reflects off the water in broken patches through the trees. Penny talks periodically, which reassures Mel more than anything else. If she can still talk, she isn't overextending herself.
They pass a woman running with a golden retriever.
Penny turns her head. "Oh my god, what a cute dog.”
“Eyes forward.”
“I can run and look Mel, I swear.”
“I know, but maybe don’t test that near the curb.”
Penny returns her attention to the course.
A few minutes later she asks, “Do you think Dad and Tanner are behind us?”
Mel smiles. “Very far behind us.”
Penny laughs. “That’s mean.”
“Sorry. But it's probably factual and that's okay. We know our own limits.”
“Dad says facts can still be mean.”
“Your father says a lot of things when he’s losing.”
Penny laughs harder.
Mel realizes, somewhere around mile 2, that they might actually finish under 30 minutes.
She doesn't say it, not because she doesn't want Penny to know, but simply doesn't want the number to suddenly become the point.
Instead, she stays beside her.
She watches her form, she makes sure Penny takes a little water at the station without stopping completely. she keeps her from surging too hard when they pass another kid.
Then, when the finish arch finally comes into view, Mel glances down at Penny.
“You still feel good?”
Penny nods quickly. “Yeah.”
“Want to finish fast?”
Penny’s eyes light up. “Yeah.”
Mel smiles. “Okay. Go.”
Penny goes.
Mel's genuinely caught off guard.
The girl accelerates with the kind of fearless effort only children seem capable of, arms pumping as she drives toward the finish.
Mel laughs and goes with her. People along the chute begin cheering louder.
Penny crosses the line first, Mel follows half a step behind. They slow several yards later. Penny bends forward with her hands on her knees, breathing hard but laughing.
Mel looks at her watch and it's just under 30 minutes. “Holy shit,” Mel whispers.
Penny looks up. “You said a bad word.”
Mel covers her mouth. “Don't tell your father.”
“I’m telling him.”
“Penny.”
“You said it.”
“Because you just ran a ridiculous 5K.”
Penny straightens. “How fast?”
Mel turns her wrist so Penny can see.
Penny’s eyes widen.
“29??”
“Just slightly over.”
“Is that good?”
Mel stares at her. “Penny, that's extremely good.”
The volunteer places a medal around Penny’s neck. She immediately reaches for it.
Mel receives her own a moment later.
Penny looks toward the course. “Can we wait for Dad and Tanner near the finish?”
Mel smiles. “Absolutely.”
They grab water bottles and move toward the side of the finishing chute.
Meanwhile, Frank has discovered that Tanner's apparently an excellent running partner.
Not because Tanner talks constantly, he doesn't, he just simply refuses to let Frank quit on himself.
Around mile 1, when Frank mutters that they may have started too fast, Tanner checks his watch. “We’re fine.”
Frank looks at him. “Since when do you know pacing?”
“Mel explained it.”
Frank exhales. “Of course she did.”
At mile 2, Frank begins breathing harder.
Tanner notices. “You okay?”
Frank nods. “Yeah.”
“We can slow down.”
Frank looks at him. The offer's genuine and that somehow makes Frank straighten. “No. We’re good.”
Tanner smiles slightly and they keep going. Their pace hovers just over ten minutes per mile. It's faster than Frank’s more relaxed runs but not impossible.
He can feel the effort as his legs feel heavier than he wants them to be. His lungs have started negotiating and his brain begins producing several extremely convincing arguments for why slowing down would be reasonable.
Tanner doesn't let him dwell on any of them. “Half mile.”
Frank glances toward him. “What?”
“Until we hit 3.”
“Oh... right.”
“C'mon dad, I’m motivating you.”
“You sound exactly like Mel.”
“That’s probably why it’s working.”
Frank laughs, which immediately makes breathing worse. “Don’t make me laugh.”
Tanner grins.
They hit the 2.5 mile marker and within a reasonable distance they see the finish appearing ahead. Frank checks his watch and his expression changes.
Tanner sees it. “What?”
“We can get under 33.”
Tanner immediately speeds up.
Frank grabs his arm. “Not like that.”
“You said under 33... that's like a... 10:40ish mile time.”
“I said we can get under 33, not that we should sprint the last quarter mile like we’re escaping something.”
Tanner slows slightly but at his slightly despondent look, Frank can't help but push anyway. The noise from the finish line grows louder.
Then he hears Penny. “LET'S GO DAD!”
Frank looks up. Penny's jumping beside the barrier, her own medal tapping against her chest as she waves at them.
Mel stands beside her, clapping with both hands around her mouth. “Come on!”
Frank laughs despite the burning in his chest. Tanner accelerates and Frank can't help but follow.
They cross together the finish line together and Frank stops his watch almost immediately.
32 and some change. He walks several yards with his hands on his hips, breathing deeply.
Tanner looks at his own watch. “32:42.”
Frank nods.
“Yeah,” he says breathing deeply and wondering briefly as to why the fuck would he submit himself voluntarily to something like running on your off days.
Penny comes running toward them. “We did under 30! it was like 29 something but still!”
Frank lifts his head. “What?”
“Yea dad like 29 something!”
Mel reaches them a moment later. “Just under 30.”
Frank stares at Penny. “You ran it in 29 minutes?”
Penny nods proudly. “With Mel.”
Frank looks at Mel, Mel raises both hands. “I kept her controlled for roughly 2.5 miles.”
“Controlled. And what happened to the other .6?”
“She tried to open with a 8 minute mile.”
Frank stares at Penny.
Penny smiles innocently. “What?”
Frank starts laughing. He pulls her into him despite how sweaty both of them are and kisses the top of her head.
“That's insane.”
“I beat you.”
“Yes, Penny. You demolished me. But Pen, I'm so proud of you.”
She beams.
Tanner lifts his medal. “We got under 33.”
Mel immediately looks at Frank. “That’s great! Slowly but surely you'll cut into your own time, baby steps.”
Frank nods, but the reaction's slightly subdued. Mel catches it, because of course she catches it, she always does.
As a whole, they move away from the chute so they aren't blocking other runners. Penny and Tanner immediately begin comparing medals, even though they're exactly the same.
Frank drinks half a bottle of water in several long swallows as he watches them attempt to point out possible differences.
Mel stands beside him and glances at him, while keeping an eye put on the kids. “You’re disappointed.”
Frank wipes his mouth. “No.”
She gives him a look.
Frank sighs. “A little.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That's not true.”
Frank watches a few runners cross the finish. He rubs one hand over the back of his neck. “I thought I’d be closer to 30.”
Mel nods. There's no immediate dismissal, no automatic reassurance so she lets him say it.
“I know 32 isn’t bad,” Frank continues. “I know it’s not. I just thought maybe I’d... you know...”
“You ran 32 with Tanner at a charity race where you were probably talking half the time.”
Frank glances toward her.
“That isn't exactly terrible you know.”
“I know.”
Mel steps closer. “You were barely over 10 minute miles. Frank, that's amazing.”
Frank looks down at his watch.
She points toward it. “That’s what, 10:20 something?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re talking about taking maybe 40 or 50 seconds off each mile to get comfortably under thirty.”
Frank thinks about it.
Mel continues. “That isn't some impossible jump.”
He looks at her.
“If you actually wanted to train for it, you could absolutely get into the nines.”
Frank raises an eyebrow. “You think?”
“I know.”
“Sub 30?”
“Eventually? Yes.”
Frank looks back toward the course and his disappointment eases slightly, not because she's told him what he wants to hear, because Mel doesn't do that.
If she thinks something's unrealistic, she tells him and usually with uncomfortable precision.
“So what?” he asks, “9:40 pace?”
“Roughly.”
Frank nods slowly. “That sounds unpleasant.”
Mel laughs. “It's unpleasant but doable.”
“Excellent sales pitch.”
“You asked if it was possible, not enjoyable.”
Frank takes another drink. “I don’t know.”
Mel waits.
Frank glances at Tanner.
His son is explaining something animatedly to Penny about how he thinks they could have gone faster if they had passed a group earlier.
Frank smiles. “In time, maybe.”
Mel bumps her shoulder against his. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Frank looks at her. “You’d train me?”
She immediately grins. “That sounds dangerous but I would absolutely love to have you training under me.”
“Under you? What about over?” he asks suggestively and Mel can't help but lightly smack him on the arm.
“I mean for you... definitely. As for the run thing... that would also be a definitely.”
“I’d regret it huh?”
“Almost immediately.”
Frank nods. “Good to know.”
Tanner turns toward them. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father's considering going sub 30 someday.”
Tanner’s eyebrows lift. “You could, I mean I know you could.”
Frank looks at him. “Everybody has a lot of confidence in me today.”
“You were already close.”
“3 minutes isn't close.”
Mel shakes her head. “Baby steps Frank."
Tanner thinks about that. “So if you trained more, you could run under 30?”
Frank nods. “Yea, I mean, maybe.”
“And Mel already runs under 30.”
Frank looks toward her. “Very comfortably.”
Mel rolls her eyes but there's no venom to it.
Penny jumps in. “I ran 29.”
“Yes,” Frank says. “We're all painfully aware that you're apparently the fastest person in the family now by volume.”
Penny smiles.
Then Tanner looks between all of them and there's a pause. Any outsider would probably consider it casual, almost nothing. Then he says, “Wait.”
Frank looks at him.
Tanner’s expression shifts as though something has just occurred to him. “Did we .... basically turn into a running family?”
Mel goes still.
Frank doesn't immediately notice but Penny does. “What’s a running family?”
“You know,” Tanner says. “Like families that do races and stuff.”
Frank looks around at them.
Tanner gestures toward their matching shirts and medals.
“I mean, Dad runs now. Mel has already been running. Penny apparently runs like she’s being chased by the police.”
Frank snorts.
Penny protests. “I don't.”
“And I ran today.” Tanner looks toward the race tents. “So are we just one of those families now that signs up for 5Ks and does events together?”
Mel looks away quickly as if something she had never thought to think of came to the forefront and Frank can't help but catch it this time.
Her mouth presses into a thin line and she blinks once, then again.
Frank knows that expression because he's seen it time and time again. It's what she does when something hits somewhere deeper than she expected and she absolutely doesn't want anyone to notice.
Penny steps closer to her. “Mel?”
Mel clears her throat. “Yeah?”
“Are you crying?”
“Oh, no Pen, no.”
Frank looks at her, Mel looks at him.
He says nothing and that somehow makes it worse.
Her eyes shine. “I'm not crying.”
Tanner immediately looks guilty. “I didn’t mean anything bad.”
“No, sweetheart, please don't take it like that.”
The word slips out so naturally that Mel doesn't even seem to notice.
Frank does, Tanner does too.
Mel takes a breath. “You didn’t say anything bad.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
Penny looks at Frank. “She’s crying dad.”
“I see that.”
Mel points at him. “You're not helping.”
Frank presses his lips together.
Mel wipes quickly beneath one eye. “It just caught me off guard.”
Tanner still looks uncertain. “What did?”
Mel looks at all three of them. The medals, the shirts, Penny standing close enough that their arms are touching, Tanner looking at her with genuine concern to Frank watching her like he already understands.
She exhales softly. “The family part.”
There's a brief silence.
Tanner’s expression softens. “Oh.”
Mel looks down at her water bottle. She gives a small embarrassed laugh. “I just wasn’t expecting you to say it like that.”
Frank reaches for her hand as she lets him take it.
Tanner looks between them. “Well.” He shrugs. “You are.”
Mel looks up.
Tanner continues before he can apparently think too hard about it. “You’re always with us in the best way possible.”
Frank feels his own throat tighten.
Penny nods. “And you bought my shoes but you're also there for us.”
Mel laughs through the lingering emotion.
“And you run with us.”
Tanner looks toward Frank. “And you make Dad less annoying.”
Frank immediately turns. “Okay that was a low blow for no apparent reason.”
Mel laughs harder.
Tanner grins. “I said less.”
“Fantastic.”
Penny grabs Mel’s free hand. “So we are a running family.”
Frank looks at all of them. “Yea, I mean, I guess we are.”
Mel closes her eyes briefly and Frank squeezes her hand. When she opens them again, she looks at him.
He smile and that somehow means so much more.
Mel looks down at Penny. “Well, if we’re a running family, I think we need rules.”
Frank groans. “Absolutely not.”
Penny brightens. “What rules?”
“No leaving people behind,” Mel says.
Penny looks toward Frank. “That means we’d have to wait a long time.”
Frank puts one hand over his chest. “Wow.”
Tanner laughs.
Mel points at Penny. “Rule two. No bullying slower family members.”
Penny smiles. “Okay.”
Frank nods approvingly. “Finally. Leadership.”
“Rule three,” Tanner says, “everybody gets food after.”
Frank immediately points at him.
“That's the best rule anyone's suggested.”
Mel nods. “Agreed.”
Penny thinks. "Can the person with the best time.. make a suggestion for the food?"
Frank thinks for a second and concedes that this time, Penny seems to technically be that person. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"
“Pancakes?”
He can't help but laugh. "Sure, I could go for some pancakes."
“Can we go now?”
Frank laughs. “You just ran 3 miles and your first concern is pancakes?”
“Yes.”
Mel looks at him. “That’s your kid.”
“Absolutely.”
They begin walking toward the food tents.
Penny swings her medal as she walks, then she suddenly stops. “Oh.”
Everyone looks at her.
“What?” Frank asks.
“Turkey Trot.”
Frank blinks. “What about it?”
“Are we doing it?”
Mel glances toward Frank.
Tanner looks interested.
Frank frowns slightly. “The one in November?”
“Yeah.”
Penny nods quickly. “My friend asked me if this was the Turkey Trot.”
Frank laughs. “In August?”
“I know.”
“She thought a Turkey Trot was in August?”
“No, she asked if I was doing that race this weekend, and I said no because I knew that wasn’t until November.”
Mel smiles. “Look at you knowing the race calendar.”
Penny nods proudly. “So are we doing it?”
Frank looks toward Mel, Mel looks back, and there's a moment, then she shrugs casually. “I mean, running families do Turkey Trots.”
Frank immediately sees what she's doing.
He smiles. “Oh, is that officially part of the lifestyle?”
“Pretty sure.”
Tanner nods. “I’ve heard of them.”
Frank looks at him. “You’re encouraging this too?”
“I want another medal.”
“Finally, someone admits their motivation.”
Penny looks up at Frank. “Can we?”
Frank draws out the silence intentionally.
Penny narrows her eyes. “Dad.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re pretending to think.”
Mel laughs.
Frank looks toward her and she gives him an innocent expression.
Frank sighs. “Fine.”
Penny jumps. “Yes!”
“But.”
She stops.
“There’s always a but,” Tanner says.
Frank points toward him. “Correct.”
He looks back at Penny. “If we do a Turkey Trot, nobody becomes obsessed with times.”
Penny opens her mouth.
Frank raises one finger. “I mean it.”
She closes her mouth. “It's Thanksgiving.”
Mel nods.
“So we run, we have fun, and then we eat an irresponsible amount of food.”
Tanner smiles. “That sounds good.”
Penny thinks. “Can I still try to beat 29?”
Frank looks immediately at Mel, Mel looks toward the sky in mock concentration.
Frank laughs. “You see what you created?”
“I didn’t create anything.”
“You absolutely did.”
Penny grabs Mel’s hand again. “I think I can.”
Mel looks down at her. She tries to maintain a serious expression, it lasts all of 2 seconds. “You probably can.”
Frank groans dramatically. “Great.”
Tanner looks at him. “You can try to break 30.”
Frank pauses. “In time.”
They continue walking.
The race field's starting to thin as more runners finish. Music plays from the speakers near the stage. Volunteers hand out fruit, pretzels, and water.
Penny takes two bananas despite having eaten one before the race. Tanner grabs a granola bar. Frank takes another bottle of water. Mel picks up an orange slice and eats it while they stand beside one of the picnic tables.
Frank watches the kids for a moment.
Penny's showing Tanner something on her medal. Tanner pretends not to care but leans closer anyway.
Mel stands beside Frank. Their shoulders touch. “You okay?” he asks quietly.
She knows exactly what he means. “Yeah. It was just unexpected.”
“I know.”
“I’m not trying to make it weird.”
“You’re not.”
She glances at him.
Frank continues watching the kids. “Tanner meant it.”
Mel looks down. “I know.”
Frank takes a breath. “He doesn’t say stuff just to say it.”
“I know that too.”
“He thinks of you that way.” Frank finally looks at her. “So does Penny.”
Her eyes start shining again, she immediately points at him. “Stop.”
Frank smiles. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are.”
“What?”
“You’re saying things.”
“That's generally how conversations work.”
Mel shakes her head. “You know what you’re doing.”
Frank softens. “Yeah.”
Mel looks away.
Frank reaches for her hand again, he keeps his voice low. “You’re allowed to be happy about it.”
That nearly breaks her so she takes a breath. “I am happy.”
“I know.”
“That’s the problem.”
Frank turns slightly toward her. “How is that a problem?”
“Because it’s a lot.”
He waits.
Mel looks at the kids. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect you. I definitely didn’t expect two kids who would apparently decide I belong here.”
Frank’s expression changes. “They didn’t decide.”
Mel looks at him.
“You earned it.”
She blinks.
Frank continues before she can interrupt. “You showed up,” he says quietly, “You keep showing up.” Frank rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “That’s what they notice.”
For several seconds, she can't answer, then Penny suddenly appears beside them. “Can we get pancakes?”
The moment breaks and Mel cant help but laugh.
Frank looks at his daughter. “You have impeccable timing.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I know.”
Tanner comes over behind her. “I vote pancakes.”
Frank looks at Mel.
“You?”
She smiles. “Pancakes.”
Frank sighs dramatically. “Democracy has failed me again.”
They begin walking toward the parking lot. For a while, nobody says much, they're tired now just as the race adrenaline has started wearing off. Penny still seems to have more energy than any human being reasonably should, but even she walks instead of skipping.
Frank glances down at Tanner and he can't help but ruffle his hair. “Good run man, I'm proud of you.”
Tanner looks up. “Thanks dad, you did good too.”
Frank smiles slightly. “Appreciate that.”
Tanner kicks a small pebble off the path. "You finished. And you didn’t walk. And you said you wanted under 33. And we did.”
Frank smiles. “You’re annoyingly reasonable.”
“I get that from you.”
Frank laughs. “That might be the nicest insult you’ve ever given me.”
Ahead of them, Penny's telling Mel that she thinks Turkey Trot shirts should have actual turkeys on them.
Mel's listening with complete seriousness.
Frank watches them.
Tanner looks too. Then Tanner says quietly, “She really is family, though.”
Frank turns his head.
Tanner keeps looking forward.
Frank feels something settle heavily and warmly in his chest.
“Yeah.”
They reach the car and Penny immediately calls the seat behind Mel.
Tanner claims the other side.
Frank unlocks the doors.
Mel pauses before getting in, she looks at him over the roof of the car.
Frank looks back. “What?”
She smiles. “Nothing.”
“Mel.”
Mel walks around the front of the vehicle until she reaches him. The kids are already inside and she stops directly in front of Frank. He raises an eyebrow in response just as Mel reaches up and kisses him.
It's brief and soft.
Frank smiles when she pulls away. “What was that for?”
Mel looks through the window at Penny and Tanner, then back at him. “For signing all 4 of us up.”
Frank’s smile widens. “That feels like dangerous reinforcement.”
“Probably.”
He catches her around the waist before she can move away.
Mel laughs quietly. Frank kisses her forehead. “Turkey Trot?”
She nods. “Turkey Trot.”
From inside the car, Penny leans forward. “Dad.”
“What?”
“Can we get pancakes now?”
“Yes.”
“Blueberry?”
“Yes.”
“With whipped cream?”
“Sure.”
“Chocolate milk?”
Frank watches as Mel loops back around and they get into their respective sears. Frank adjusts the rearview mirror before looking back at Penny from it. “Are you trying to consume every calorie you burned?”
Penny nods without hesitation.
Frank starts the car. “You’re all impossible.”
Mel reaches across the center console and takes his hand. Frank laces their fingers together. Penny begins talking about November again before they are even out of the parking lot. She wants to know if Turkey Trots give medals. Tanner wants to know how cold it will be. Mel starts explaining cold weather running layers. Frank tries to insist that nobody needs to discuss another race when they haven't even eaten breakfast after this one.
Nobody listens.
Behind them, Penny and Tanner argue about whether they should all wear matching turkey hats.
Frank shakes his head. Somewhere in the middle of their overlapping voices, he realizes Tanner's right. They've become that family. The kind that wakes up early on weekends to pin numbers to their shirt, the kind that keeps extra safety pins in the glove compartment, the kind that discusses race times over pancakes and casually makes plans for November while still wearing medals from August, the kind that finishes at different times but waits at the same line and the kind that cheers for whoever comes next.
Frank looks at Mel again. She's staring out the windshield now, still holding his hand.
He squeezes it and she looks over.
Neither of them says anything because they don't need to.
Penny's already decided they're doing the Turkey Trot. Tanner has apparently decided Frank's breaking thirty. Mel has apparently decided she's going to help him do it. And Frank, despite knowing exactly how much suffering that last part is likely to involve, finds himself smiling anyway because Tanner's right.
Somehow, without any of them officially deciding when it happened, they've become a running family. More importantly, somewhere along the way, they simply became a family.
The running is just what they happen to do together.