mother's room is in 309.
I know where it is.
As I've already said,
visiting hours are over.
But Nurse Alice always lets me
go in anyway.
I'm not Nurse Alice.
Visiting hours are over.
Please. It's Christmas Eve.
You can see your mother
first thing tomorrow.
Don't tell me you're planning
on running the whole race.
I was gonna ask you
the same thing, granddad.
Runners, on your mark.
Three, two, one... -
Slow down, kid.
You'll never last 10 miles at that pace.
There's only one way to find out.
- Who's that kid?
- I've never seen him before.
I knew you wouldn't last.
How was the race?
- I lost.
- And?
I thought I was gonna win.
I've only got 14 good weeks
of training until Boston.
Fourteen weeks is a lifetime.
Stop.
- How many miles a week are you running?
- Sixty.
- That's not nearly enough.
- It isn't?
- Longboat said it should be plenty.
- Longboat?
Longboat went insane.
What are you doing for workouts?
Well, every run,
I go as hard as I can...
and I eat five raw eggs
for breakfast...
and I always sleep
with my head facing north.
It's complete idiocy.
I can tell you right now,
you're never gonna win Boston.
But if you still insist on running it,
I'll coach you.
- I knew you'd come around.
- You did? How?
I could see it in your eyes.
Well, then you're as nuts
as Longboat.
I'll coach you
only on one condition... -
you promise never to mention
anything about miracles.
Just mine or all miracles?
Yours.
I have nothing against miracles
in general.
I think Tennyson got it right
with that one.
Don't you, Mom?
Usually I hate poetry...
but we've been learning
this new poem in English...
and I've decided to memorize
the whole thing...
you know,
just for when I get bored.
Ralph, come quick. I think I found
something that'll help you pray.
Go on, Ralph. Touch it.
Look, I heard the nurses talking.
He just died.
Even the family doesn't know.
I mean, his soul could be
going to heaven right now...
and if you connect with that...
that could break
your whole prayer blockage.
So come on. Close your eyes
and say a Hail Mary.
He's cold.
- I think we missed it.
- Close your eyes.
Hail Mary, full of grace.
Dear God, please tell me there's
a rational explanation for all this.
- You still watching my back?
- Yes.
Keep your arms relaxed.
Shake them out.
- How's your breathing?
- Fine.
Yes. You shouldn't have tried
to stay with me when I surged.
Now you're broken.
Once you break, it's over.
In running, you can never recover.
You can redline all you want...
but you never go past the breaking point
until the final sprint.
All right?
- You okay?
- Fine.
Okay.
Jog easy for five minutes,
and then we'll try again.
By the way, you have
an incredible capacity for work.
- I do?
- Yes, you do.
Read it.
wife of the late Grant Walker...
passed away on January 7, 1949.
She died of a heart attack.
- Grace Wa"...-
- That's enough.
Obviously, it has come
to my attention...
that your grandparents are dead.
No, they're not, Father.
Are you suggesting
the obituary's fiction?
No, not at all, Father.
Then what am I missing?
I've seen their graves.
Section 16, row 12, plot 6...
Holy Sepulchre Cemetery.
Oh, you mean my dad's parents.
I thought you were
talking about my mom's.
And where do they live?
Ireland.
Well, maybe it's time
you visited them.
Maybe it's also time you explained
who wrote all of these notes.
I know you don't have the writing skills
to pull something like this off.
So, what are you giving up for Lent?
Self-abuse.
Impossible.
If you could do that,
you'd have your miracle.
Chester?
Fitz knows the notes are fake.
Oh, shit.
You didn't tell him it was me?
Don't be an idiot.
Fitz has no idea who wrote them.
I'm done.
My penmanship will sink me.
I'm in a life that might sink me.
Kid's lookin' better.
At least he's not running backwards.
Good. Stay on pace.
Don't get caught up in the surges.
And don't go into