Dashing All The Way

1. Margo

ONE

MARGO

Whoever decided running is a good form of exercise can go straight to hell.

My legs ache and my lungs burn as I put my hands on my thighs at a busy intersection. I want nothing more than to sit on the sidewalk, sedentary for the next four to six weeks, but before I can catch my breath, the crosswalk changes. The obnoxious beeping lets me know it’s my turn to move, and I hate everything .

“Dammit.” I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. Every ounce of determination I had at the start of this four-mile run disintegrates with the stitch in my side. I never want to lace up my sneakers again. “Fuck you, Jeremy.”

Jeremy Mathieson, the douche canoe I dated for six months who told me I’d never be able to run a half marathon.

I should’ve ignored his taunts. I should’ve laughed it off because I can’t run a half marathon, but I’m a stubborn bitch, and there’s nothing I love more in life than proving a man wrong.

The Jingle Jangle Half Marathon was supposed to be my chance to bask in all my hard work over the last twelve weeks, but the only thing I can see when my feet hit the pavement is my ex’s smirking face when he said I wasn’t strong enough to accomplish something so physically demanding.

I grimace and resume my run with new determination. I pump my arms and increase my pace as three miles turns into three and a half. Soon I’m in the home stretch, and exhaustion hits me like a wave when my watch vibrates to let me know I’ve reached the end of my workout.

Thank fuck .

I blow out a breath and lean against a streetlight, wondering how the hell I’m going to get through thirteen miles in two days when I can barely stand upright after four.

The math isn’t mathing right now, and the last thing I want to do is embarrass myself.

“Hey,” a guy in the bike lane yells at me. “You okay?”

“That is a very loaded question.” Chicago’s frigid December air bites at my skin. I shiver and dry my face with my shirt in an attempt to stay warm. “Is working out always this miserable?”

The biker snorts and puts his feet on the pedals. “If it doesn’t feel like torture, you’re not doing it right,” he calls out, and I roll my eyes.

That dude probably does Cross Fit. He probably eats eighteen egg whites for breakfast and drains his protein shake like it’s water. Meanwhile, I’m over here going to bed dehydrated every night because I can’t remember to drink enough fluids until I have a throbbing headache.

We are not the same.

Finally feeling stable on two feet, I dig into my sports bra and pull out my phone. I call my best friend as I walk the quarter mile back to my apartment.

“Are you hurt? Did a man come after you?” Katarina asks when she answers. “I told you to buy that knife ring and use it if someone gets too close. A study in England showed almost seventy percent of women have been harassed while on a run. I refuse to let us become a statistic.”

“I only had to deal with some catcalling and a guy who told me he liked my ass. Isn’t it sad that’s considered a good day?” I stop to stretch my hip and almost groan at the tightness in my leg. “How the fuck do you do this every morning?”

“Do what? Contemplate the necessity of men’s existence? It’s pretty easy; I think society would function just fine without them. Think of how well the world would run if women were in charge.”

“Thanks for the fuck the patriarchy pep talk, but I meant exercising. It’s excruciating.”

There’s a pause. The drip of her expensive coffee machine makes a noise on the other end of the line, and I so badly want to be curled up with a blanket and an espresso.

“What do I tell you about negative splits, Margo?”

“You tell me I’m supposed to start slow and finish fast,” I drone. Her mantra is fresh in my mind, but the executing portion of it got lost in translation. “I hear ya, Kat, I do, but my mantra is the faster I run, the faster I finish. And holy hell do I want to finish and be done with all of this. What was I thinking when I registered for a half marathon and a 5k before Christmas?”

“Revenge,” she says, and I hum in agreement. “And your mantra never works, which is why I’m pacing you on Saturday. I’ll put you on a leash and restrain you if I have to.”

“Kinky. But we should free the leash runners, Kat. They just want to be wild.”

“Wild until you hurt yourself by pushing past your limits. Where are you? If you’re close, you can stop by for a coffee to warm up.”

“This is why you’re my best friend.” I tap my key fob on the gate to my complex, turning right instead of left and heading for Kat’s building. “I’m thirty seconds away and fucking freezing.”

“Door’s open when you get here, babe.”

I wince on the way up the stairs to the third floor. I don’t bother knocking, using my shoulder to push open the door to her apartment and kicking off my dirty shoes in her foyer.

“I’m here.” I glance at my reflection in her hall mirror and almost laugh. My cheeks are bright pink and wind burned. My shirt is damp with sweat and my scowl makes me look like the biggest grinch despite the Christmas decorations around me. “I’m going to need a towel so I don’t ruin your furniture.”

“It’s IKEA.” Katarina appears in a big sweatshirt and leggings that hug her athletic body like a second skin. She thrusts a mug my way and I take a sip of the coffee, grateful for the caffeine rejuvenation. “Please don’t think it’s top of the line.”

“I don’t care what it is because this drink is giving me life.” I sigh happily and follow her to the living room. “Why do you have a yoga mat set up? Did I interrupt your workout?”

“Nope. I’m forcing you to stretch.” She points at me, then the mat, and I groan. “On your ass, Andrews.”

“I love being on my ass, believe it or not. I prefer it when I’m getting something good out of it, like, you know, an orgasm. Not more pain.”

“You’re done with your training cycle and it’s going to help you feel better. I promise.”

“Debatable.” I chug the rest of my drink and drop to the mat. I bring my feet together in a butterfly position and stretch my groin. “Have I told you today how much I hate your sadistic ways?”

“Many times. The text you sent me before you went running was very colorful.” Katarina smiles and sits on the couch. She brings her thighs to her chest and balances her mug on her knees. “How do you feel about the race?”

“Given I got a cramp two miles into my run today, not great, if we’re being honest.” I stick my legs out in front of me and reach for my toes. “I thought running was supposed to get easier the longer you did it.”

“That happens sometimes. You’re in the taper period, which means things will hurt more than normal. You’re also grumpier because you’re working out less. Elle Woods and endorphins, remember? Come race day, you’ll have adrenaline on your side.”

“I hope so.” I adjust my sock and shrug. “I want to do well, you know? Not just because of Jeremy, but for myself, too. I’ve spent twelve weeks going from someone who barely walked two miles a day to a person who’s going to run a goddamn half marathon. I don’t want all the training to be for nothing.”

“I’m going to be by your side the whole way, and Saturday morning you’re going to cross the finish line. Even if I have to drag you.”

“That’s friendship right there.”

“This is your victory lap, Margo. A chance to celebrate all you’ve accomplished, which includes ditching that shitty boyfriend of yours.”

I laugh. “He was pretty shitty, wasn’t he?”

“I’m not sure which is worse: the time he hit on me even though he knew I was your friend, or the time he made you walk home from the bar alone because he had a headache.”

“The headache, definitely. But that’s because he never had a headache.” I knead my calves with my knuckles and wiggle my toes. My muscles feel better, and I hate that she was right about stretching. “Thanks for listening to all my bitching and complaining.”

“Bitching and complaining is a runner’s rite of passage. That, and losing toenails.”

“Which is why I’ll never do a marathon. So gross.” I lie on my back and reach my arms above my head. “I’m ready, though. I can’t wait to see how this goes.”

“It’s going to go so well because you are a badass, Margo Andrews.” Katarina joins me on the floor and rests her head on my shoulder. “And I’m so damn proud of you.”

I smile at the ceiling, feeling full of hope and holiday cheer for the first time all day. “I’m damn proud of me, too.”