Page 68 of Catch
“Stay with me. Keep working the middle,” Felix repeats. “Work it.”
Halfway mark achieved.
Over the pounding thrum of my heartbeat, I can hear shouts of encouragement from the shoreline. Someone’s calling my name, the school’s name, and I can’t help it, I’m smiling through the pain.
“That’s it, push through! Push through!”
We’re moving at a smooth and steady clip, and I can tell by the excitement in Felix’s voice that we’re close.
“Stay with me,” he encourages. “Take it! Take it!”
The second half of the race is always the most difficult. My body wants to quit, but my brain keeps steering, and eventually I get to a point beyond the pain. The rush is more than exhilarating; it’s an obsession that every athlete knows and craves.
I want to beat our best time.
I want to win this race.
I don’t stop giving it my all and neither do my teammates.
Only a little bit further.
One more stroke, one more, one more…
“Finish strong!” Felix shouts in his mic. “We got it. This is our race!”
I grit my teeth and give it all I can, rocking back and forth, keeping my core strong and my hands steady. Our collective rhythm is so smooth that it feels like we’re floating above the water, not on it.
Hitting this part of the race means it’s time to unleash that final push.
You got this. Don’t stop.
“Breathe!” Felix calls out. “This is ours! We got this. Last two.”
This is it, we’re coming up to the finish.
One stroke, and another, and then…
“Weigh enough,” Felix demands and breaks out in a grin. “We’ve done it!”
The race is over. Holy shit. We won?
“Let it run!” Felix encourages. “It’s ours!”
We take our oars out of the water and relief surges in my veins. I’m panting hard, desperate for air, as sweat pours down my body. I’m going to feel this race today, tomorrow, and maybe the day after that.
“Sutton, U Conn, Maine, Boston U,” Felix announces.
We did it. We came in first.
“We fucking did it!” Hudson yells behind me.
I use whatever lung capacity I have left to shout, “Sutton U Crew! Sutton U Crew!” And the rest of my teammates join in.
We float for a bit, reveling in the victory, then gently steer to the meetup point where Lin and the other crew coaches, along with the spectators, are waiting. Ethan and the Cougars are the rowdiest of the bunch, not surprisingly.
“Way to go, Sugar!” Ethan shouts.
For once, I don’t mind his teasing. I wave at him and then lean forward on my knees, ready to collapse.
