Page 107 of Ugly Duckling
I’d trained for the last six months to get to where I was at today.
Boston.
I was running the Boston Marathon, and I was in sixth place.
“Run, baby!”
I looked over and spotted my mom and dad.
My mom was holding a sign with butterflies all over it.
My dad was holding one with flowers.
That was it.
No positive, uplifting message on their posterboards.
Just butterflies and flowers.
I passed more.
Milena.
Cutter.
Chevy and Aella.
Silver and Webber.
Audric and Creole.
Cakes.
Everyone was there to watch us run.
Gunner had already finished.
I’d made him promise to run his little heart out, and he had.
So had I.
I was almost there.
The woman who was right behind me picked up her pace, and I was forced to, also.
I couldn’t breathe anymore.
My lungs were one solid wall of fire.
Each breath I took came shorter and faster.
“Run, baby!”
I looked in front of me and there he was.
The crowd got louder, and I passed the finish line half a breath before the woman behind me.
I slowed my pace, then started to collapse, but my man was there to catch me.
