Page 110 of Free to Run
I grin. “I was kind of hoping you’d say that.”
“I’m officially throwing you out.” Cassidy picks up the elephant and throws it at my head. “Bring my sister home.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I mock salute her, then look over at Charlie. “Charlie…there are no words.”
“Bring her home. Then we’ll celebrate.”
Celebrate is right. Quickly snatching up the pieces of my gift, I hurry out of the maternity ward. I’ve got a bag to pack and a flight to catch. Not only do I know what city to look in, I know where to find my woman.
And now, I know just what she’s going to get as her medal for finishing her race.
43
Alison
Ipop another cracker into my mouth as I make my way through the humid air to my starting corral. The Saltine cracker had settled my stomach acid slightly. I’m glad I thought to toss them in the car when I drove to the race start in Charleston at 4:30 this morning.
This isn’t the first time race nerves have made my stomach jump. I’ve run a half marathon before, just not like this. I look down at my bib in disbelief. It has a bright whiteCstamped on it. I knew my qualifying 10k time was pretty fast, but I didn’t know it would put me this far up. I’m going to enjoy all the extra time afforded to me. I want to cross the finish line, but not at the risk of injury to me or my little avocado.
I can’t help but smile as I look around at some of the crazy costumes people are wearing. I think I saw someone in a full zebra outfit out of the corner of my eye. I just hope it was a one-person deal, or someone was going to have to deal with race farts while bent over, trapped in a costume built for two. I know it’s for charity and all, but still, there are some limits.
My racing costume is pretty kick-ass while still being comfortable. I’m Sherlock Holmes, of course. I have on a plaid running skirt and a white, long-sleeved running shirt with a plaid vest over it. The plaid of my hat doesn’t match, but I managed to score white knee-high running socks last night at the local running store. I even managed to fashion a magnifying glass out of a paper towel roll and tinfoil.
Not too shabby if I do say so myself. I mentally pat myself on the back, especially since I was up late packing boxes to be shipped back to Connecticut.
It’s time to go home and face whatever it is I’ll find upon my return.
I know my family will always love me, and maybe one day they’ll forgive me. Maybe they’ll find it in their hearts to open their arms to me again. God knows, every minute I spend away from them is tearing deeper wounds into my soul.
I’ve spent my days barely going through the motions, barely doing what needs to be done to function. The other parts of me are reliving every moment since Cassidy, Phil, and Em walked into my life. I’ve found myself outside of our old trailer park half a dozen times without knowing how I got there. I’ve been desperate to pick up the phone and call, needing to hear their voices.
When I’m not thinking of them, I’m replaying every hour I spent with Keene—the good and the bad. The desperate love I have for him. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I know I’ll never be able to escape the memories of him or the pain of losing him. I walked away when I had it all in the palm of my hand.
I give my head a quick shake to clear it before the all-too-familiar tears can well in my eyes and my throat closes up. Probably not such a great idea before tackling a race. Blanking my mind, I ignore the other runners completing their pre-race prep around me. In the cool morning air, I do a final check of all the items in the pack around my waist. Water, music, backup earbuds, ID, and a large bag of mixed candy since my little avocado is now making Mama nauseous regardless of which running energy GU I try.
As I shake out my limbs one final time, I realize I’ve been woolgathering longer than I thought. It’s now 8:00 a.m., and the elite runners and corralAracers have already gone off. Walking with my corral, we ease closer to the start. CorralBs take off and my pulse begins to thrum faster. I regulate my breathing. Three in, two out. With the little avocado inside me, it’s super important to keep my heart rate steady.
I quickly do a final check of my sneakers and earbuds, when I hear the announcer call out “CorralCrunners, are you ready!”
I crouch down.
And within seconds of being told to go, I take off in a loping stride over the hard-packed earth of the wooded course. Within minutes, my mind wanders back over the last four months.
By the end of the first mile, I want this race to be over so I can go home and begin mending the relationships I ran from out of fear of love.
* * *
I’mon mile eight when my phone starts ringing. I answer it breathlessly.
“You know, I’m in the middle of a race, Jared. Probably not a good time to talk about the movers.”
“Movers? Now I’m more than glad I lifted Jared’s phone out of his pocket a few seconds ago. Caleb’s holding him back because now I can tell you what I told you before every race. Do the best you can and don’t hurt yourself.”
Cassidy. Sweet Jesus.
“Cass. Oh God, Cass.” The sob is ripped from me without a chance to stop it.
“What mile are you on?” she asks conversationally, as if this isn’t the first time we’ve spoken in two months.
