Page 124 of When The Rain Falls

"Cougar," Alicia says, leaning in the doorway. I’m wracking my brain trying to understand the word. Cougarwhat?

“Where?” I utterly fail at masking the rising panic in my voice.

"Cougar, Washington. The city. For her race," Alicia explains.

Shit.The race.At first, I’m instantly relieved. Until I remember that Aimee’s race has a finish line. And there’s no one waiting for her there.

“Thanks, Alicia.” I leap off her porch and make a beeline for my house. I might be skipping. I’m not sure. For the first time in nine years, I’m not sitting down and taking life’s punches. I’m going after something. And it’s something worth going after.

"Wait, Finn,” Alicia calls after me. “Do you need her for something?"

"Yeah," I say over my shoulder. "I need her for everything."

Ten minutes later, I’ve thrown together an overnight bag, given the girls instructions on how to handle themselves while I’m gone, and asked Tyler to check in on them. I toss my bag into the van as I hop in. I yell last minute instructions to Ruby as I pull out of the driveway. She’s huffing, and puffing, and rolling her eyes like her life depends on it.

I pull out of the neighborhood and head towards the direction of the I-5 onramp. That’s when I realize I have no idea where this race actually is. Or what it’s called. I only know it’s near Mt. St. Helens. A quick Google search tells me there's only one race there this weekend and it starts at the Marble Mountain Sno Park Trailhead. I'm about to put the coordinates into my phone when I hear tires screeching in front of me. My entire body jolts forward. The last thing I see is the tailgate of a black pick-up. Then my vision goes dark.

45SCREAMING ON MOUNTAINS

AIMEE

There’sa crispness in the air, along with the smell of dirt, and pumice, and the shrill cry of a woman screaming.

And that woman is me.

When I woke up this morning, I almost stayed in bed. Before I even threw back my covers, I felt a heaviness settling over my entire body. The heaviness that only comes when life is telling you to give up. My eyes were half swollen shut. And my throat was dry from crying.

I forced myself to lace up my shoes. I figured it was a small step that might be able to propel me forward. Because if you can lace up your shoes, then you can step out the door. And if you can step out the door, you can walk to your car. And if you can walk to your car, you can get in it.

At first, I told myself I was doing this to prove something to Alicia. That I can finish something. But then, I pulled into the parking lot and walked up to the check-in table. And when the volunteer asked me my name, I looked her straight in the eye and said,Aimee Jones.

And that’s when I knew I was doing this forme.

I’m a mile from the finish line. The view of the mountain disappeared a couple miles back and I’m on a single track dirt trail meandering through tall trees.

And I’m screaming.

I’m screaming because I’m doing it. This. Something. And I’m not doing it to be liked. I’m not doing it to win someone’s affection. This isn’t a rehearsed line. A practiced touch. This isn’t what someone does after they’ve been kicked to the curb like recycling. This is what someone does when they’re worth something.

When I round the corner, I see it. The large, blue banner marking the finish line in the distance. I train my eyes on that blue banner with the large white letters. I ignore the cheering crowds of families and friends. I ignore the encouraging handmade signs. I don’t need someone to cheer for me.

I’m cheering for myself.

When my foot lands on the plastic mat marking the end of my journey, someone hooks a race medal around my neck. The second I stop moving, relief floods my body. A wave of extreme deliverance works its way through my nervous system. I slowly come to terms with the fact that everything hurts, but my heart is still pumping. And I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.

Ironically, this thought hits me just as my legs become liquid and I collapse. But even as my limbs fold over each other and I rest my cheeks against the cold asphalt of the parking lot, a part of me is soaring. It’s incredible how you can be in immense physical agony and still feel strong.

My whole life I’ve tried to avoid discomfort. But, turns out, when you face it head on, it’s like looking down the well of your soul. The water might be murky, but your reflection is there. And there’s nothing to stop you from dragging yourself up, pull after exhausting pull, to the surface.

That’s what this race felt like to me. Pulling my body up to the surface from a deep well.

And I finished.

To anyone else, this race might not seem like that big of a deal. But it’s a mountain growing in my soul. A mountain of hope. A mountain of pride. And I’m standing on top of that mountain and I’m still screaming. Screaming at the critical faces. At all the times my family looked at me and found me lacking. All the times men sized me up and determined I was an easy catch. At all the people who only wanted me for a night.

None of that matters right now. Because I’ve become someone who wants herself. I realize, as I’m screaming on my imaginary mountain, that I’m someone who stands up for herself. Someone who finishes things. Someone who could own a business. And I’m also all the things Finn saw in me. Kindness and gentleness.

Is this what they mean by runner’s high?

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