Page 78 of See You at the Finish Line

I suck deep breaths into my belly, out of practice with the best breathing techniques. It’s frustrating to have to constantly think about something that used to be as easy as, well, breathing.

Breathing into the belly helps get oxygen to your blood faster. It’s uncomfortable at first, but like everything else, my body seems to wake up and remember we used to do this every day.

As I pass the 2km mark, I hear footsteps behind me. The hairs on my neck perk up and an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. I know that it’s Adam. He’s breathing heavily and I instinctively pick up the pace, hearing him groan.

“Seriously?” he mumbles. The fact that he’s so close both thrills me and compels me forward, my running time dropping back down to under three minutes per kilometre, or in my American conversion brain, six minutes and twenty seconds per mile. Not bad.

“Struggling back there, Ashford?”

“No,” he wheezes, and I laugh, using up precious energy, but I don’t care.

He doesn’t catch me. We reach the turnaround point and high-five each other when we’re on opposite sides of the course. He’s a few seconds behind me and that’s the only reason I’m able to keep up this pace.

I may pass out at the finish line, but I’m not letting him catch up. I may even set a new PB.

The fastest I’ve ever completed a 5k was in twenty minutes and sixteen seconds. That was years ago when I was twenty-two, and those sixteen seconds still haunt me. I might break that twenty-minute mark.

I hit 3km and surge forward, passing the 4km mark when I see Adam in my peripherals. No way in hell am I going to let him beat me even though my lungs are screaming and my legs are protesting.

I refuse to lose to an actual rhinoceros. Adam’s tread is surprisingly light for his size, but he’s suffering from the wind resistance created by his broad chest. What a problem to have.

For Adam, it means he’s losing, and he can enjoy the view of my gorgeous ass as I cross the finish line before him.

Cheers go up in the crowd as I blast through the finish line in first place for my division. Mateo is already there, congratulating me by swinging me into a hug like it’s the most normal thing to do, and Adam follows a minute behind me. I cannot wait to check my chip time when the results start coming in.

I have to brace my hands behind my head to open up my airways, concentrating on sucking down air and not on the wall of muscle that’s staring at me with awe.

“What?” I ask Adam breathlessly.

He shakes his head, his chest heaving. “Sometimes I think about what the end of the ultra would have been like.”

My arms drop to my sides, my head spinning. I can’t let this go on any longer. I’m so confused by the mixed messages he’s sending me, and with all my energy put into that race, I have nothing left to stop me from speaking my mind.

“Why did you say getting disqualified was life’s way of telling you I was the wrong choice?”

He looks me dead in the face like he’s trying to process my words.

“What are you talking about?” He looks as confused as I feel.

“When you were at my apartment, you said you agreed with your dad that if life throws something unexpected at you, it’s because the path you were on was wrong. Weren’t you talking about Moab?” There it is. No beating around the bush.

I brace myself for what’s about to come out of his mouth, for whatever excuse he’ll make, for the honesty that will break my heart.

Instead, I hear my name being called from the spectator area.

“Paige! Paige!” It’s Shay calling for me, panic in her voice.

“Shay?” I run over to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you checked your phone?”

My entire world stops right there.

No, I haven’t checked my phone. I left it at home and even turned it off. Nothing bad can happen if I can’t get phone calls.

Running is safer without my phone. And I completely forgot about it.

“Your sister’s ex called, there’s been an accident.”

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