Chapter Five
Race Day.
“Okay, this is just like any other day of running. Get the crowd, the gun, and the lights out of your mind, and focus on what you’re doing. One step in front of the other.”
“Right,” Shaylee said as she bent to adjust her shoe. She worked it a bit looser in the headlight of Ryan’s truck. Tying her shoes in the dark had become easier, but getting the perfect amount of tension, without being too much, was harder when compensating for how much her feet would expand over a hundred thirty-five miles of different terrain. She worked the lace undone, loosened her shoe a bit more, and then re-tied.
Okay, step three—done. Step one had been: Arrive on time at the race course. Step two: Sign in and pick up my pre-race registration packet. Now she just had to fidget and wait for the start. Her group—the first of two—began at nine p.m.
The bright-gold hue of the moon would help a bit, and there would be occasional lights along the way. But, for the most part, she had to rely on her support team—Ryan and Chase—to keep her on the road. And her feet.
She bit down on the sadness threatening to overtake her when she thought about her missing support person. The front passenger seat should have held Courtney. But it taunted her with her daughter’s absence. Yes, she had been the one to get Ryan in the middle of the night on Shay’s last long run. But it had been to help Shay, to keep her from getting hurt. Court still didn’t approve of her relationship with Ryan and was not coming to fill out her much-needed team… It stung. She tamped down the bitter feeling in her chest, reminding herself Court’s unfortunate yet realistic reaction wasn’t a reflection on herself. They would get past this. But, for now, she was on her own.
But that wasn’t true, either. She had the two men who meant the most to her in the world, in the driver’s seat and the rear seat, ready to hand her water bottles and snacks, and give her race information.
As much as it hurt her to go into the biggest event of her new life without her only daughter, she would. Because this wasn’t about Courtney. Nor Ryan, nor Chase. This was her moment. For once in her life, she was doing something so amazing, so big, and so utterly crazy that if she wrote it down, she would cry at the idea. She, the forty-three-year-old divorcee, dating an almost thirty-year-old, had two college age-children. Yeah, she was doing this. One hundred thirty-five miles. For no other reason than because she wanted to.
The announcer called everyone over to the starting line and explained the idea behind this awesome race and how it began many years earlier, thanked both the participants and the support crews, and gave everyone a tearful blessing before putting them on the line. This wasn’t the kind of race where you got down to a sprint position and tore out as fast as you could. You also didn’t worry about running a steady pace for the whole thing, like a marathon. A lot of people would fail, and most would end up walking. So the goal was to go at your own pace and ignore the other racers. You were in this race to compete with one person, yourself. And that was pretty damn cool when she thought about it.
“Break a leg. I mean, go get ’em,” Chase said, giving her the biggest hug he had in a long time.
“We’ll be with you, every step of the way.” Ryan gave her a quick kiss and an even longer hug, helping calm her pre-race jitters.
She strode over to stand at the back of the rag-tag group of seventy-eight other participants and waited for the gun to go off.
The loud shot rang out into the air, and nothing happened. Then, row by row, they started leisurely “attacking” the course, the sounds of feet on the rough pavement echoing around them. A few younger men and women shot out to the front as if the hounds of Hell chased them—they wouldn’t last long. Everyone else began their jog as if unburdened by the world. A lovely stroll in the park. A hundred-thirty-five-mile one.
Over the next twenty miles, Shaylee enjoyed the freedom found in the open stretch of highway. Things had thinned out, so there were not many people around her. She inched past a small group of men and women laughing and joking about what kind of alcohol they would have after they finished the race. They were from the Drinkers with a Running Problem group. She remembered their antics at the carbo-loading dinner the previous night. Then she would be by herself except for the dark truck always following close behind on the rightmost side of the road. Chase would hand her a water bottle or an energy pouch. Ryan would tell her how great she looked and to stay relaxed. A few of the more serious runners didn’t chat at all. It seemed like they didn’t even daydream like she sometimes did. She had read in Kirk Johnson’s book that he preferred not to zone out, because he might trip otherwise. But she needed this chance to let her mind wander. Yeah, she might have a few trips and falters. No one could tell her what to do, or how to act, what was socially acceptable, what was not. She could think of whatever she wanted.
So she let her thoughts roam freely.
Her husband leaving her for the nineteen-year-old ex-best friend of Courtney’s. It was time to forgive him. Not for him. Not for his new girlfriend. Not even for her poor, hurting daughter. No. For herself. She chose not to let this energy hold her back anymore or bring her down. She might not be young and beautiful and have perky breasts like a nineteen-year-old. But she had the most important person in the world.
Myself.
She loved herself, and that was what mattered. So, whatever Roger decided to do with his life now became his decision—it didn’t have to weigh her down anymore. She was a free woman. A woman who could date a younger man, who could say no when something didn’t feel right. She could live her own life. Whether or not Ryan would choose to be a part of it after this race, this week, this month, even this year, she didn’t know. But she wouldn’t let it stop her from enjoying how she felt when with him. She might be in love with this man. But that was another step, right? Like an ultramarathon, you put one foot in front of the other, and kept moving forward.
She skidded on a small stone and tumbled down to her knees, missing scraping her face by inches. Ow.
The five-timer she’d met last night stopped next to her and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay?”
The truck stopped beside her, and the door slammed as heavy feet hit the pavement. “Thanks, yeah. I’m okay.”
The other man gave her a thumbs-up and took off again on his slow-paced, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other run as Ryan knelt in front of her. “Are you hurt? Can you walk all right?” Concern showed in his eyes before he motioned for Chase who was already bringing the bandages and ointment for her skinned knees.
She sank against the front of the truck while both men mother-henned over her red-and-scraped knees. “Guys, it’s okay. It’s a little blood and skin. I’ll live.” She moved to get out on the course, but a strong set of arms pulled her back gently.
“This is my forte, remember?” Ryan set her on the bumper and raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to put some antibacterial ointment and bandages on your knees so we don’t have to worry about them getting infected later.”
She almost giggled at their stern expressions but kept her face straight. “Okay, okay. Bandage me up like a mummy. Just be quick about it, before my legs get too cooled down.”
“I’ll kiss it and make it better if you want.” A sly grin on his face, he gave her a kiss right above her “booboo” and made quick work of bandaging her up. “All right, you are cleared to go.”
“Thank you both.” She blew them a kiss and began a slow shuffle jog.
One step at a time. Sometimes you fall, but you get right back up and keep moving forward. Races and relationships had a lot in common.
~.~
She couldn’t take another step, and they all knew it. Only eighty miles in, and she was miserable. Shivering during the cold night temps, no matter how much she layered; her shoulders and face feeling the brunt of the full sun during the daytime; blisters on top of popped blisters on top of so many calluses; feet too swollen to fit comfortably in her shoes; torn, blackened toenails; raw, bloody heels and ankles; scraped knees; chapped lips; thirsty, hungry; then too full and couldn’t drink a drop if her life depended on it. Yeah, the past twenty miles had been gruesome. Her whole body ached. She couldn’t seem to get her temps regulated and shivered when a gust of sixty-degree wind touched her between her shoulder blades. Ryan had given her two IVs already. She had taken several quick naps during the hottest part of the day, like a lot of other racers. Her body was shutting down, and her mind held a close second. Even Chase, her strong-willed never-freak-out-about-anything son, had given her a wide-eyed look of panic when she had a very surreal daydream about her ex eight miles earlier. Both men assured her, her ex had not stepped onto the course and run with her for a mile while telling her about his sexcapades and asking her to return her alimony money since she had a new boyfriend.
“What do you want to do? How can we help?” Ryan massaged her calf during another rest break and then bandaged up another of her excruciatingly painful blisters.
She bit her lip hard to keep from crying out.
What did she want? She wanted to finish this race, dammit! She wanted to push herself further and harder than she ever had. She wanted Ryan to push her and not let her quit. “I don’t know. Let me think for a sec.”
“Mom,” Chase broke in, his jaw flexing. “You’re exhausted, a huge mess, and you could hurt yourself if you try to go any farther.” He turned to Ryan. “Tell her, man. She should stop before she gets hurt.”
“No.” Ryan’s quiet voice resonated through the air. “Sorry, but I disagree.” He pierced her with his strong, sure gaze. “The last twenty are in the coolest part of the day. It will be dark, and you chance tripping again, if you don’t watch where you’re going. You’ll need to slow down and walk for parts of it.”
“Would both of you stop telling me what to do?” Anger, fatigue, confusion, fear all combined into one huge outlet directed right at him. She wanted Ryan to push her, but she didn’t want him to take over. She needed to have some control over this, or she would succumb, and he knew it. She desperately longed for him to be the asshole jerk type who would grunt and tell her to get going and stop whining, but she also needed to know she could still do this on her own. “God. I’m sorry.” She winced when he dabbed a bit more ointment onto her feet. Then he bandaged them up, replaced her socks with new ones, and handed her her shoes.
“I could tell you what to do, try to strong-arm you into it. Some people need a tough-love kind of push. Ruth, my eight a.m., loves it.” His eyes bore straight into hers. “But I’ve never gotten that feeling from you. I think you want to push through this yourself.” He stood up and reached out to her. “We’re partners. We bring out the best in each other. I can suggest to you the best way to conquer this bad boy, but without your heart in it, it won’t matter. You have to want this for yourself.” He took her hand, kissed it gently, and gazed at her with such a look of love, she almost melted right there. “I know you can do this. You want it. Your body is going to ache. You’re going to have moments when you want to curl up into a little ball and sleep for the rest of the month. I won’t lie to you. This last twenty will be the most painful thing you’ve ever done in your life. But I believe you can do it, if you want it. So what’s it going to be? What can I do to help you through this? I’m not going to take your moment from you, I promise.”
She stood on shaky legs and kissed him back. “Just keep believing in me and push me. But let me push harder. Let me feel like I have at least the slightest bit of control in all of this.”
He walked her back out onto the road and tapped her hip before kissing her again. “You have all the control, beautiful woman. Keep going. We’ll be right behind you to catch you. But you need to fly on your own.”
And she flew.