He nods. “Just us, and the race.”
Positioned at the back of the cluster of readying runners, I unravel the rope, handing him one end, and begin to wrap the other end around my hand. Anxiety buzzes in my veins with each circle of the rope around my hand. This is happening. I’m doing this. It’s not my first time running, but this one is important.
The time I ran with Anker was about making my brother happy. This time, it’s about me. Even if I agreed to start this to help my brother, I want to prove that I can push past the things I thought I couldn’t do, including the things I’ve always done.
“You ready?” Garrett’s steady voice pulls my attention.
“Are you?” Brow furrowed, I tip my head up to him.
“It’s okay to be nervous.” He places his untethered hand on my upper arm.
“I’m not… I’m… I just don’t want to…” I look down at the bright pink rope wrapped around my gloved hand and back up. “The last time I did this, it didn’t mean anything. And I…. I just don’t want to embarrass myself.”
Every instance of embarrassment in my life whispers in the cool morning air. The time I tripped up the riser in high school and fell during a school concert. Crying in the girls’ bathroom stall after Everett told me kissing me was just a bet. Knocking over Miles’s drink at Harkey’s. Any bit of confidence I had is deflating with each announcement over the PA system for runners to proceed to the starting line.
“I’m nervous, too.”
My head tilts. “How? You’ve run other races. This is child’s play for you.”
“As you said, this time is different…Thismatters.” He swallows thickly. “You’re depending on me. I don’t want to let you down.” He soothes his fingers against my forearm.
Even through my shirt’s thin fabric, I feel each sweet caress of his fingertips. It unspools the anxious knot inside me. It’s both good and bad anxiety. The good that comes with excitement, and the bad that accompanies worry. A worry I know we share. He doesn’t want to fail me, and I don’t want to fail him. Just as I don’t want to fail myself.
Knowing that we both are anxious strangely eases my worry. I’m not alone in this feeling, and neither is he.
For so long, Garrett has run solo. I forget what this might be like for him. For this man to open himself up to the possibility of letting someone down. The memory of his pained admission about failing Val aches in my chest.
“It’s not just me.We’redepending on each other.” I tug on the rope that tethers us to one another. “You run, I run. You fall, I fall.”
“Did you just quoteTitanic?” The deep laugh that belts out of him hits me like I’ve drunk a glass of full-bodied red wine, leaving me warm and relaxed.
“How dare you! I would never!” I pop my hip. “I am paraphrasing at best.”
The rich rumble vibrating from him soothes every frazzled nerve in me.
“I’m nervous too, but we’ve got this.” I move my free hand to touch his forearm, sliding it down to thread our untethered hands.
“We’ve got this.”
“And if we don’t, we’ll just keep working until we do.”
“Okay.” He presses our joined hands to his chest.
A voice booms from the PA system. “Runners, take your mark.”
With one last squeeze of our joined hands, we release and ready ourselves. Excitement ripples through the crowd like crashing waves. The chaotic soundtrack of noise makers, cowbells, and cheers drowns out the thud of my pulse. I can barely hear the bullhorn’s siren as it signals the participants to start. I certainly can’t hear Garrett’s call out, but the three tugs he does on the rope tell me it’s time to move.
My limited vision, combined with the dulling of my hearing due to the wall of noise surrounding me, causes my breath to come in rapid spurts. My grip tightens on the rope, keeping me close to Garrett as we start with a slow jog. Our group of runners remains clustered together as we move down the course, which is lined with cheering onlookers on each side.
“To the right,” Garrett calls out and tugs the rope, guiding me to the course’s far side.
It’s our race strategy. We’ll remain tucked up to the side to avoid groups of runners that tend to dominate the central paths. It also ensures that we only deal with runners on one side of us to keep everyone safe.
The quieting course—outside the slap of sneakers against pavement—allows me to settle into the run. The gentle burn of my muscles awakening, the steadying rhythm of my heartbeat, and the even cadence of my breath. It’s the slow climb into the runner’s high that I’ve just started experiencing over the last few weeks. The initial ache coursing through your body makes you think you can’t do this, until euphoria washes it away with this weightless sensation. Each time I run, it envelops me around mile two, so with us just passing the first mile marker, I know I’m almost there.
“One down.” Garrett’s shout is muffled by the crash of cheers and noisemakers as we pass the first mile marker.
The hoots and whistles simmer from a roar to a hum the further along the course we go. Besides the periodic runners zipping past with call outs of “On your left,” it’s almost as if it’s just us.
