Page 148 of Dickathlon

“You always get too tired.”

He laughed again. “I do.”

A comfortable silence settled between us.

“What are you gonna do for lunch?” I asked. “You gonna stay and watch the other events?”

“Nah. Ford and Bret are taking me out somewhere in Canary Wharf.”

“That sounds nice. I’m tempted to get lunch at the village since it’s so close, but Yuri will probably want me to stay put. I think they have a smaller dining hall here for athletes.”

“Well, let’s hope so, bro. You need your energy. Good luck with the shot put.”

“I love you, Ty.”

“Love you too.”

* * *

I took a breath. I was in the final heat of the four hundred. It was arguably my best event and I was still in first place, though it wasn’t a lock or anything.

The electronic starting pistol went off and I blasted out of the blocks. The first five steps were critical, but I had done this so many times with Yuri, it was ingrained in my muscles. And then it was all about the drive. Head down, I focused on moving as fast as I could to reach my maximum speed as fast as possible.

It was better for me to take the lead and keep it, and that’s what had already happened. Having runners at my back pushed me ahead. It was harder to catch up to someone, especially if that someone was me.

This was the Olympics. I was going all out. And I knew the other guys were too, but wanting it more than me was going to be tough.

There wasn’t much time for coasting in the four hundred, considering it was less than a minute, but there was a small but crucial recovery period. This was always when someone tried to pass me, and today was no exception - in fact, I think it was Asher and Ulisses. But by the time they got close enough to seem like a threat to the audience, and everyone, including Ty, probably tensed up, I was already starting to accelerate. I had a lot more experience than most of them.

I knew I focused more on speed than strength, but honestly, speed helped me in more events than throwing the shot put the farthest. I wasn’t even in the top ten in that event, but it didn’t matter.

The last two hundred meters started on a curve, so my arms became more of a factor here, launching the push for the last half of the race. I focused on my breaths and the pattern they made with the movements of my arms and legs. There was a rhythm to it, but things were moving faster now. Despite the size of the crowd in the massive stadium, all I could hear were my breaths and the pounding of my feet.

I could see out of the corner of my eye that the guys from earlier had fallen back. Or I had pulled ahead, however you wanted to look at it. At this point in the race though, it was more mental than physical.

The last one hundred meters were the hardest part. Pushing through the build-up of lactic acid, the burning of my lungs, the small part of me that said I couldn’t keep this impossible pace any longer.

Ignore it. Keep going.

In the blur of it all, I pictured Ty at the finish line, running into his arms.

I could see him now, waiting for me. At the end of the track.

It would’ve been easy to slow down, but I knew I had to run through the finish line. I wasn’t getting passed at the last second. So many damn lessons from the past.

I never looked back. I never let up. I leaned forward as I sprinted across, and only until the track started curving again did I slow my pace and come to a wobbly walk. My thighs were burning and my lungs were on fire. The blood circulated through my body and flooded my head.

The sound of the stadium finally hit me. It was like thunder.

I turned to the huge screen to confirm I had won.

I had. By almost a full second, helping to increase my lead. The adrenalin kept on coming, pushing a smile onto my face.

I had 4,616 points, but there were seven guys within a few hundred points of that. I wasn’t safe by any means. It wasn’t even comfortable. At this level, that was a hard thing to be.

Yuri congratulated me, and some of the guys made their way over to do so as well. I spent a few minutes shooting the shit with a few of them and searched the stands for Ty.

He had texted his section number, row and outfit choice earlier in the day. I just had to look for his bright pink shirt. Apparently, it said, ‘Property of Declan Moore’.