Page 136 of Misfortune and Mr. Right

We gather in the third corral for our wave. Over a thousand other runners surround us. A total of around eight thousand will take off at the same time we do. The energy is electric. People are smiling or stretching. Some are focused, tuning out the hum around them. Others are chatting up the athletes around them.

Logan grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’m right here. I’ll cheer you over the line.”

“Not if I cheer you over first,” I tease him.

He leans in, kisses the top of my head, and steps back. “Don’t ever change, Pennington.”

“You either, Alexander.”

Megan and Lynette are somewhere in the crowd near the starting line with both my parents and Logan’s. Gil and Maisy couldn’t make it. Genevive, their new baby, is still too young to endure the trip and hang out in a crowd this big all day. There’s no way to pick our family and friends out from the thousands of people surrounding us, but knowing they’re here gives me an extra boost of energy and motivation.

A hush comes over the runners. Moments later, the gun fires and we’re off, pacing ourselves and moving like a stampede out of our corral. Logan’s to my left, running at my pace but setting the overall cadence, just like we practiced. He’s our pacer. His job will be to make sure we don’t overexert ourselves at any point.

We conserve our energy the first six miles through Hopkinton. The crowds grow and the course levels out through Ashland. I’m feeling pretty good. Logan and I have settled into our pace. Spectators hold up signs, and people cheer as we pass. Our focus is on hydration and recovery during the next four miles through Framingham.

We approach Wellesley College around mile twelve. There’s a famous spot called “Scream Tunnel.” Students and spectators line the course, many of them holding signs that say, KISS ME … and something funny afterward. My eyes catch on a woman who is definitely over seventy years old. Her sign says, IF YOU THINK I’M SEXY, KEEP RUNNING!

I laugh. Laughing slows me down for a minute, but then I feel more energized.

I look over at Logan. “Did you see her?”

“Second sexiest woman in Boston!” he shouts over to me.

I giggle, and we continue to run.

Then I see Megan. She’s holding a sign and screaming like it’s her job. “Go Olivia!!!!! Go Logan!!!!” Her sign says MY BESTIE IS A BEASTIE.

I wave at her, and she shouts louder. Lynette stands next to her, with Cassidy on her shoulders. She’s shouting, “Go Liv!” And Cassidy is yelling, “Go Aunt Olivia!”

I run faster, fueled by their cheers.

The next time we see our family and friends is in the Newton Hills, somewhere around mile eighteen. I’m slagging. My legs feel like two lead weights.

“I want to quit,” I tell Logan. “We haven’t even hit Heartbreak Hill yet.”

“Slow down,” he says. “Pace yourself. You didn’t come here to quit.”

“I did. I think … I came … to quit.” I take puffs of breaths between my words.

I made it twenty miles. That’s enough. I don’t have it in me to do the next six blocks, let alone the remaining miles.

“You did not.” Logan’s voice is patient.

“How are you not dying right now?” I huff out between gasps for breath.

“I’m focused on you and the next little stretch in front of me.”

“What do I get if I keep going?” I ask him.

“You get a kiss.”

I’d roll my eyes if I had the energy.

“Take some Gu,” Logan advises. “We’re coming up on a water station.”

I pull the packet of energy gel from my belt, tear the pouch and squeeze it into my mouth over the next few strides. We reach the water station, and a volunteer hands me a disposable cup. I slow to nearly a walk and take sips while I still move forward. Then I crumple the cup and toss it to the ground. My energy lifts, my mind feels a little sharper. I can do this. My legs even feel a bit lighter.

“I’m ready,” I tell Logan.

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