Page 81 of Your Pace or Mine
His father sighed heavily. “If you do change your mind, I’m sure we can get you moved back into the elite field.”
Darius ignored the comment, and they fell into silence as they walked through the house.
On the drive back, Darius was glad to be alone with his thoughts instead of crammed into a busy train. The tentative peace with his father had sparked a determination in him. His family had been so closed off, even to each other, for so long, and he wanted to do better. He wanted to be the type of person he’d been when he was with Jamie.
Taking the long way home for a chance to think, Darius let his thoughts drift to his time with Jamie and his passionate approach to everything and everyone he cared for. A tiny kernel of an idea struck him, and he found himself detouring into South London. He might not be able to win Jamie back, but he wanted to be the kind of man that he would have been proud to be with.
Darius barely had enough time to make it to the centre before closing, but by the time he’d returned to his townhouse that evening, he had the beginnings of something, and a meeting setwith Jade for Monday to sketch things out properly. The rest would come later. For now, he had to rest up. Tomorrow was the London Marathon Expo, and he had a pacing flag to collect.
The London Marathon Expo was a major event in and of itself. A veritable festival of running that took over the ExCel centre on the banks of the Thames before the marathon. There would be talks by professional athletes—Darius had done one himself just a year ago—stands flogging all kinds of running gear, and of course, bib pick up.
As he exited the tube, Darius tapped his card against the sensor and walked out of the station. He scanned the crowd around the ExCel centre warily. Finally, he spotted someone he recognised and breathed a sigh of relief. Alanna Michaels was a Paralympic marathoner who had taken gold at the last games. Seeing a familiar face set him at ease, and he walked briskly towards her. It was pathetic, but Darius just didn’t want to face walking in alone. He felt like a self-conscious teenager again, as if everyone’s eyes were on him.
The massive concrete steps outside of London’s largest event venue were teeming with people from the station down to the docks. Alanna stood out in her ParalympicsGB jacket, standing just to the side of a throng of people pushing their way into the centre. He watched as a young girl approached her with her mother, and she chatted with them for a moment before hugging the girl and allowing her mother to snap a photo. The girl beamed and walked away, chattering excitedly. It seemed like everyone he knew was inspiring the next generation, overcoming real obstacles, and all Darius had managed this year was to ruin the reputation of the man he loved and fail to make the Olympic team.
“Alanna,” he said as he approached. There was a sad smile on her face.
Her smile broadened as she recognised his voice. “Sorry, no autographs today, Hewitt.”
Darius took her offered arm, and they walked towards the centre together. “That was adorable. The little girl was so excited to meet you.”
Alanna’s expression shifted. “She was sweet,” she said. “She’s losing her vision, a degenerative condition. By the time she’s my age, she’ll be fully blind.” She got a bit choked up as she continued. “Said she’s been learning all about me and that I made her feel less afraid.”
Darius was silent for a minute as Alanna composed herself. “That’s incredible, Alanna, genuinely.”
“It’s all I really want with this, to give people that hope,” she said. “I mean, aside from another gold medal and more sponsors.”
“The trifecta,” Darius laughed.
“I hear you’re pacing this one?” she asked tentatively. In that moment, Darius realised he was proud of his choice. Fuck Anders, fuck the selection committee and their politics. Darius wanted this race to mean something. “Yeah, yeah, I am. Join me to pick up my has-been flag?”
Alanna shoved his arm, and they entered the expo laughing together. The atmosphere hit Darius like a wave of sound and motion. The hum of excited chatter swelled into a roar as they stepped inside, a mix of accents, languages, and the occasional burst of laughter filled his ears. It was just like every other year, but somehow incredibly different. Massive screens displayed looping footage of past races, the runners surging forward like a tide while dramatic music swelled in the background. Everywhere he looked, there were people: groups clustered around merchandise stalls, families snapping photos underoversized London Marathon banners, and volunteers handing out race packets with practised efficiency.
Darius couldn’t help but feel like an impostor. Usually, when he walked into this space, he was a contender—a name people whispered about, pointing him out as he passed. Now, the anonymity he’d aimed for when getting ready today felt like both a relief and a sting. No one recognised him in his nondescript hoodie and jeans, but that was good; it was what he deserved.
“Alright, where do we start?” Alanna asked, nudging him playfully with her elbow. She still wore her ParalympicsGB jacket, and more than a few people turned to glance her way as they passed.
“Flag pickup,” Darius said, gesturing towards the pacing stand. “Then coffee. Definitely coffee.”
“Lead the way,” she replied, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.
They wove through the crowd, sidestepping a group of runners excitedly comparing notes about training plans. Darius kept his head down; the last thing he wanted was to catch a glimpse of his face on one of those monitors showing past winners.
The pacing stand was tucked away near the back of the hall, a smaller booth dwarfed by the towering displays for shoe brands and sports drinks. A volunteer handed him the flag with a practised smile, and Darius hooked the strap on his arm— it was already awkward to carry. He’d been assigned the 3:30 pace group, as expected. There was no guarantee he’d see Jamie, of course. His mind drifted back to Chi’s texts. There was no guarantee Jamie would be there at all.
“Feeling good?” Alanna asked as he returned to her side.
“Yeah, it’s a real statement,” he muttered.
“Come on, you’re helping people hit their goals. That’s worth something,” she said.
“I know, I know, that’s the point after all.”
They wandered through the expo after that, stopping at a few booths where Alanna was inevitably recognised. At one stand, a representative eagerly asked her to try a new line of adaptive running gear. At another, she patiently posed for photos with a group of volunteers. Darius lingered on the edges, watching but never quite joining in, trying to keep his anonymity as long as possible.
As they walked towards the coffee stand, a booming voice over the PA announced the upcoming roundtable discussion with elite athletes. He grimaced.
“Not staying for the panel?” Alanna asked, her voice teasing but gentle.
