Page 110 of Get Me to the Starting Line
Running is a mental sport.
I have survived so much in my life. The deaths of both my parents. Fighting my way through a competitive program. Ian. Raising Levi on my own. Almost dying in the car accident.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs. I hold it for a few seconds and then slowly release it. The buzzing in my head has quieted.
I’m still nervous. That’s natural, I think. But I’m not going to let it stop me from doing this.
Julienhasn’tspokentome all morning. Even though we’re standing side by side at the starting line. He keeps shooting glances my way but quickly averts his gaze when I catch him.
I can’t stop staring at him either.
He’s so beautiful. The sharp planes of his face glow against the desert. It was a shock to see him clean-shaven this morning, no trace of beard remaining. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s stunning either way, but he’s a little more vulnerable without the dark hair hiding half his face.
At my wide eyes, Adam and Mateo start giggling like naughty schoolchildren before I can even form the question.
“He lost a bet,” Adam explains with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Must’ve been some bet,” I retort.
“It was.” Adam looks positively pleased with himself as he whacks Julien on the back. Paige winks from his other side, obviously in on whatever this little bet was.
Julien definitely avoids me this time.
Our party of nine takes up a lot of space in our corral, stretching and laughing. Isabel stands on the sidelines, sign in hand as she cheers us on.
Her sign reads “You are NOT almost there!” People around us are getting a kick out of it. I have to hand it to her, she knows who she is and seems fine being the lone spectator instead of caving to the pressure of the group.
My nerves are back, but I’m also feeling something else I wasn’t expecting.
Excitement.
I bounce on the balls of my feet, watching the large digital clock slowly move second by second towards the start of the race. It can’t come fast enough—I want to start and then I want to finish. Sweat rolls down my back already.
The heat hasn’t begun to creep up yet, but I know it’s coming. We’ve all prepared for it. We’re even farther south than where Paige and I used to live in Utah.
But we grew up with the desert under our feet and the sun glaring down on us. And while I’ve never run in the heat for an extended period of time, I know how to handle it. All the electrolytes and all the water.
This isn’t a massive race, with about five hundred participants, but funnelling them across the first mat to start our chip times takes a while.
“Use your energy for stretching out,” Julien’s voice calls from behind me.
I’ve been bouncing on my feet again. He’s right, so I stop and take deep breaths, my heart hammering as it moves into my throat. I know that’s not physically possible, but that’s how it feels. I rotate my legs and swing them back and forth the way I’ve seen runners do in videos. My calves already feel tight, and I’m tempted to ask Julien to massage them for me.
His hand lands on my lower back and I turn to look at him. He holds my gaze for the first time this morning.
I don’t let myself overthink. I reach up and stroke his smooth face. His eyes close briefly, but the moment breaks too soon as the people around us begin to move. It’s time.
“Ready?” Julien asks.
No. I don’t know. “Yes.”
He smiles, just a bit. “You can do this.”
I can. I can do this.
Hopefully.
It’sfuckinghot.Iknew it would be, but knowing it and feeling it are two very different things.
