Page 58 of Sipping Seduction
“Be careful out there, Evan,” Ruby said. “I know you feel like you have to prove something to everybody, but don't overdo it.”
“Not you, too,” I said. “Frannie’s been trying to give me an out for the past two days. I feel great. There's no reason for me to not do the run today. I'll call you after and let you know what my time was, okay?”
“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“If I promised you that, I’d never get to have any fun.”
As the only girl in a family with four rambunctious brothers, she probably had a valid reason to be concerned. I was amazed that none of us had been seriously injured with some of the stunts we pulled over the years. I tried to put myself in her shoes, something I'd been working on since Frannie and I got together. She called it developing my emotional intelligence. I called it making Frannie happy.
“Don't worry. I know what I'm doing, okay?”
“Love you, dumbass,” she said.
“Love you, too.”
“Good luck at the event today.”
We hung up, with my heart feeling a little bit lighter than it had before she called. I’d been reluctant to return to Beaver Bluff after my injury. I’d come to appreciate being close to my family again. I'd missed them while I was deployed, well, most of them. I’d had to swallow my pride when I tucked tail and came crawling home, but I was done feeling like I’d been putting my life on hold. I’d been going through the motions for the past year, but now I finally felt like I had something pushing me to be better, pushing me to be the man I'd always wanted to be.
With fifteen minutes to go before I was supposed to check in at the starting line, I found a place to park on a side street and made my way toward the center of the event. Frannie sat behind a table with a long line of participants in front of her. Damn if that wasn't Silas Stewart sitting by her side. A quick pain in my gut gave way to my nerves, and I gathered with the other runners behind the starting line.
One advantage of sleeping with the woman in charge was not having to wait in line since Frannie had given me my race number the night before. I recognized dozens of familiar faces as we milled around, shaking out our limbs, doing last-minute stretches, and trying to get our minds focused on the upcoming race. Today wasn't about picking sides or supporting the Bishops or the Stewarts. While the feud usually permeated everything in town, we were able to put it aside on special occasions when the whole town rallied for something bigger than families and feuds, like raising money for the elementary school.
With all the runners checked in, Frannie pushed back from the table and sought me out in the crowd.
“Are you sorry you didn’t sign up to run today?” I joked.
“Absolutely not,” she said. “There's so much testosterone around here, I can practically smell it.”
I looked around. Though there were several women who had signed up to run, the vast majority of participants were definitely male. All I wanted to do was hang in with the group in the middle and not finish last. As someone who usually set an extremely high bar for himself, I wasn't used to having such an average goal. Once I got through today, I planned on continuing training so I could tackle the half marathon that was coming up in March.
“Will you be waiting for me at the finish line?”
Frannie tightened her grip on Pete the Dog’s leash and nodded. “Once you take off, we'll probably start walking toward the finish line so I can cheer you on the last bit of the way. Don't forget, you don’t have anything to prove to anyone. I know how competitive you get. Just do your own thing and ignore everybody else around you, okay?”
I cast a side glance at Andrew Stewart, who was warming up about a dozen feet away. She didn't necessarily mean Andrew in particular, but that's where my head went. When I’d been in the prime shape of my life, I would have loved nothing better than to leave him in my dust. Today I’d have to be happy with just finishing the race.
“I’ll see you the end.” I put my hand on her shoulder and gave her a quick kiss.
An announcement came over the speaker system for runners to take their mark. With this big of a group, they didn't try to assign us into heats, so I stepped into a giant horde of bodiespressing toward the starting line. The blank fired into the air, and we were off.
The first quarter of the race was no problem. I found my stride and easily kept up my pace… not too close to the front and far enough from the back. I was happy to be running with the pack. People from town lined the course, blew party horns, and cheered us on. It felt more like running a marathon with national coverage than it did just running an elementary school fun run. Though for me, the stakes were greater.
The sun came out from behind a cloud and heated things up. I broke a sweat and was grateful for the hat Frannie had given me since it kept the sweat from running into my eyes. The course wound back and forth, and I noticed Andrew in the lead several hundred yards ahead of me. He had some fans lining the route, and I recognized a few of them as his Stewart cousins. They’d gone to the trouble of printing t-shirts with his face blasted across the front, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind who they were there to support.
I reached the halfway mark a full twenty seconds ahead of my most recent trial run and was feeling very good about my progress. My leg had been holding up, and I’d been able to maintain the same pace for the last two miles. Going into the last half of the race, I just needed to be careful to pace myself and not push myself harder than what I'd gotten used to. The temptation was there, as usual, since I wasn't used to not giving something my all. Even though I had more in the tank, I knew I'd need to save it for the final push.
The minutes ticked by, with only the sound of my feet pounding the pavement. I was close to the finish line, only about a half a mile away, when my leg gave out with no warning. I was too shocked to drop into a roll, so I face planted in the middle of the road and earned myself two skinned knees and road rash over my arms.
I hadn't seen Frannie standing nearby, but as I landed on the ground, I heard her yell my name. She rushed over, dropping the dog’s leash on the way. Pete the Dog raced ahead, stopping to lick my face as the other runners passed. A kind of shame I’d never felt before spread from my chest, swallowing up every part of me until I was too embarrassed to even look up.
This race was supposed to be my chance to show everyone how far I’d come, but I’d failed again. Not just in front of Frannie, who I’d needed to see me as the fullest version of myself, but I’d also wiped out in front of other racers, my past teammates, my friends, and worst of all, my father.
Frannie crouched down and put her arm on my shoulder. “Oh my god, Evan. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I pushed her hand away, not wanting her to touch me, not wanting anyone to look at me with pity in their eyes. It was the same look I’d seen on dozens of faces when I arrived home after being discharged from the Army—the sickening combination of sympathy and relief that it wasn't them or one of their loved ones who’d been sidelined by tragedy.
“Let me help you up.” She wrapped her fingers around my arm.
