AMY PRICE: STILL VERY PREPARED, NO LONGER SURPRISINGLY FAST
I laughed so hard I had to walk. Dani laughed too. The sound broke the final tension around us. Tessa saw us together. Shock, concern, calculation, and reluctant approval crossed Tessa’s face in less than a second. She ran along the barrier.
“You both look terrible!”
“Supportive,” Dani called.
“Accurate!”
Gloria gave Dani one steady nod: here, safe, honest. At the mile-twenty-four marker, Blake blew the whistle. The sound should have annoyed me. Instead, it became part of the noise carrying us forward.
Miguel called, “Amy, form.”
I adjusted. Rose had remained behind at the medical station. Miguel took over my visible safety. Dani’s run interval ended. We walked. Tessa kept pace outside the barrier.
“What is the plan?” she asked.
“One mile at a time,” I said.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Who are you?”
“Dehydrated.”
“Do you want me to join?”
I included Dani in the information, not the permission.
“Your race,” she said.
I turned to Tessa.
“Meet us at twenty-five.”
“Us?”
“Yes.”
Tessa agreed, then slowed. The support group disappeared behind us. Mile twenty-four continued.
The final two miles were not romantic. This required documentation. My left calf threatened to cramp. Dani developed a blister beneath her right heel. We both smelled terrible.
At one point, she said, “I need to tell you something,” and I believed she was about to confess another secret.
Instead, she said, “I may throw up.”
“Do not do it on me.”
“Love.”
“Boundaries.”
We walked until the nausea passed. Then we resumed running. At twenty-four point six, Dani stumbled. I caught her elbow. She regained balance.
“Pain?”
“Foot. Blister.”
