On an intellectual level, Eric understood the reversal. Every year he recruited against the Ivy League, and every year his recruits prioritized the name recognition, the prestige. He got that part. He just couldn’t make sense of Madison’s decision on a human level. She loved soccer: Eric was sure of this. Her passion for the game was what caught his eye from the start. The first game he ever watched her play, he was actually there to scout someone else but fell in love with Maddy. She worked so hard on the field, as if nothing else mattered, which Eric knew meant that the game had worked its way into her blood. Those were the kinds of players he wanted.
Track was supposed to be a complementary pursuit, to help with soccer. She was wildly talented as a runner, but something was missing. Eric had spent hours on the phone with her, mostly in her junior year, and during those calls he had noticed something: a shift in her voice when she talked about possibly running track in college. When she spoke of soccer, her voice was rich, humming with excitement. When she spoke of running, something clinical happened, all hard edges. Running was not creative. Eric believed that her choosing Penn, for track, was a mistake. But it was a mistake he had seen dozens of kids make. During junior year, Maddy had spoken openly with Eric, describing how conflicted she felt about her college decision. If I get this opportunity with an Ivy, I think I have to take it, was how Maddy conveyed her thinking to Eric. “But if you don’t really want to do it, how can you be successful?” he responded.
The recruiting process seemed to make Maddy uncomfortable: What if what she wanted and what she thought she was supposed to want were opposed? And what if this gap between head and heart happened again? Would she always fall into the space between the two? Penn seemed to offer everything Madison desired: great school, Division I sports, cool city, brand-name recognition. The catch was that to get all that, she had to give up soccer, her first love, the sport that, because of its improvisational nature, forced her out of her own head, forced her to embrace the beauty of the unknown.
Madison officially accepted admission to Penn the month after senior soccer season, the month after Northern Highlands won its second consecutive state title—Maddy and Emma falling asleep on the bus ride home because they were so tired from the game, from chasing that goal.
Excitement about her decision to go to an Ivy League school soon buried whatever inkling of concern Maddy had allowed herself to share with Eric. She was going to be a college athlete at an amazing school. She was becoming the person she had committed to becoming so long ago.
That spring track season seemed to confirm her decision: She was getting faster every time she ran. And she was one of the favorites to win the 800 meters at the New Jersey State Championships, the final meet of the season and the final competitive event of her high school career.
The day of the race, she and Emma sat with each other during the long bus ride. They were both anxious, but Madison especially so because she wasn’t a long shot; with one good race, she was likely to become a state champion. She had won two state titles in soccer, but an individual title? That felt different.
Emma remembers the day perfectly: Madison, quiet and introspective before the race, then as soon as the gun went off, sprinting directly for the lead, just going for it, never even looking back.
Emma was standing at the final turn, watching her friend for the final 200 meters. Madison still had the lead. Her face was etched with pain, but Emma noticed that layered above the agony was determination, and she felt that if she were inside her friend’s mind at that moment the only thought would be Get across the line first; get across the line first.
And Madison did.
In July, Maddy sent an e-mail to local writer Paul Schwartz, who had chronicled her track career at Northern Highlands.
Hi, Paul! Hope your summer is going well! I just wanted to take the time to say thank you for everything you’ve done for me in track this year. Thank you for nominating me as the Record runner of the year. It was one of the best awards I’ve ever received… You are amazing at what you do and I’m sure I can speak for all the other runners in Bergen County when I say you are one awesome fan/supporter as well. Thanks again for helping me, nominating me, and supporting me throughout my track career. Hope to see you sometime soon, and if not, I’ll definitely be back to watch some meets next year! Have a great rest of the summer.
Madison Holleran
P.S. I will never forget that you told my mom I am like a “horse”… “just keeps going and going.” hahaha
At first Madison ran track just to stay in shape for soccer, but soon her times were among the best in the state. (Holleran family)
CHAPTER 3
The Collapse
The best four years of her life. That’s what Madison expected. Four years just like high school, except better—because now she’d be living on her own.
Actually, not quite on her own, living with a roommate. At first, the room she shared with Emily in Hill—the Penn dormitory—seemed just fine, cozy even. For the first few days, they both kept the room meticulous, desperately preserving the image of college life they’d carried around for years: pictures of high school friends above desks, shampoo and conditioner tucked neatly into a plastic carrying case, roommates moving easily around the shared space with laughter and smiles, music blaring, preparing for a big party.
This image soon dissolved. In its place appeared something more real: the messiness and claustrophobia of two people who don’t really know each other sharing two hundred square feet, of wet towels left on beds, of books and clothes covering every surface, of neither roommate living up to the expectations of the other, because, well, how could they? This disappointment mattered, of course, but then again so many spaces existed outside that little room in Hill: classrooms, coffee shops, the city, frat parties, restaurants, the track.
… The track.
In high school, track was fun. That was essentially its point: it was a form of cross-training that kept Maddy from burning out on soccer. Track came after school, and she spent much of the time running with Emma, her high school best friend, who competed for Boston College. Pressure eventually arose, once she became one of the best in the state, but she started without any kind of wild expectations. She just enjoyed running. She loved waking up on the weekend and going to the Celery Farm nature preserve, where she could churn through however many miles and whatever thoughts were on her mind.