Page 112 of Ugly Duckling
But none of it mattered right now.
I had to run a race in less than six hours.
Nerves rattled my entire being as I picked up my bag and headed for the door. “Good luck!”
I waved at my suitemate—she was running the hurdles tomorrow—and headed off through the Olympic Village.
I freakin’ hated not being able to stay with my husband and kid, but I was excited to be here anyway.
I waved at people I knew as I caught the trolley that would take me to the track.
“Is that freakin’ Messi?” I heard someone ask.
I ignored them and picked up my phone, sending off a quick text to my people letting them know where I was at and when I would be there.
When I got there, I went to see the trainer. Then my coach. Hours later, I was warming up for what I thought to be my last Olympic race.
My nerves were eating away at my insides until I finally caught sight of them.
My mom and dad.
Lottie.
Webber and his wife.
The rest of the motorcycle club.
But no Gunner.
I had no clue where he was, but I knew he wasn’t far.
I could almost feel his eyes on me like a silent caress.
The coach came to me and patted me on the shoulder. “You ready?”
I nodded, not smiling. “I’m ready.”
“Go knock it out of the park.”
How he knew to use a basebally metaphor, I didn’t know. But it instantly calmed my nerves.
“Yes, Coach.”
I headed for the starting line, and a wolf whistle had me lifting my head.
And there he was.
His eyes were warm as he patted his heart. “Love you.”
I blew him a kiss, then got lined up.
The gun sounded, and I was off.
I ran.
I didn’t run fast enough, but I ran faster than I’d ever run in my life.
Even pregnant, I was still a top three finisher.
