Chapter 7: Race Day

On June 1^st at 6 a.m., she arrived at Mallory’s house on her bike.

This time, there was a bit more activity. Two men hung around at the end of the driveway, attempting to look casual but being pretty forbodding. Upon seeing Jill, they waved her through onto the driveway without a greeting nor questions.

A few athletes and personnel loitered in the front yard. One young lady approached Jill when she arrived.

“Hello, Jill,” the woman said quietly. “It looks like you are right on time. Your start time is in about 50 minutes, if you have any last minute preparations you wish to do. You will be starting alone, though Mallory will be present to fire the starting pistol at your start. When the runner previous to you has taken off, five minutes before your start time, you should exit the back patio door, where there is a room for you to undress for the race. If you have any questions, feel free to ask myself or any other volunteer, identified by the pink badges we have on our shirts.”

Jill nodded her thanks, parking her bike next to the several other bikes and cars nearby.

Every five minutes ago, she could hear the crack of a starting pistol in the distance.

Jill went inside, hoping for some privacy, but found little as several also loitered inside the mansion.

Mallory had promised free range of the property for the day of the event. Jill took advantage of it, walking casually around the house, nodding at other athletes and volunteers as she passed, making little eye contact. She did recognize a few from their profile pictures.

Finally, she settled on a little hallway upstairs, near the back of the house. All of the windows were blocked to prevent others from watching the start of other athletes. Still, Jill could hear the occasional crack of the starting gun, marking her own start getting closer and closer.

At one point, a pretty, short red-headed woman walked slowly down the hallway, spinning her head left to right.

She gave Jill a friendly smile.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” the girl asked quietly.

Jill shook her head and coughed out a “nope”.

The girl spun her head around again. “This place is amazing, but a lot of rooms.” She let out a little sigh. “Seven minutes to start and I have to pee like crazy! Can’t tell if it is nervousness or if I really have to go.”

Jill smiled. “I know the feeling.” She had a little more than 20 minutes left to go herself. Jill also felt nervousness in her bladder, something rather common before large races, but was too nervous and shy to stray from her spot. “Maybe there’s one in the changing hut when you get outside.”

The girl’s eyes brightened. “I did not think of that! Thank you!”

Jill had also not thought of that either, until that moment.

“If worst comes to worst, there are the woods!” the girl said with a nervous giggle.

Jill smiled. “Been there, done that.”

The girl smiled back and looked at her watch. “I better get going. Good luck out there, and I really hope to see you again out there!” she said with a little twinkle in her eye as she spun and walked back towards the stairs.

Jill felt her throat go dry and managed to mutter out a “Yeah, you too,” which she was fairly certain the girl did not hear.

A couple of more shots rang out.

Jill almost forcefully and reluctantly ripped herself from her spot, going down stairs and finding the patio door. It was just closing as an athlete was going to his start.

A volunteer and another athlete stood at the door, the athlete looking nervous, the volunteer looking at her clipboard. Her head came up as Jill approached and a smile spread on her face.

“Hello, Jill. I see you are just about ready. Eight minutes until start time! Are you nervous?”

Jill nodded her head. The other athlete continued averting their eyes, studying the ground in front of them.

The three stood in awkward silence. Jill stared intently at her own shoes.

She wondered if the had the right shoes.

They were comfortable shoes. She loved them. And she had several other pairs of shoes in her drop bag. But were these the right shoes?

Were they going to be comfortable enough for the first 50 miles? Were they too old? Were they too new? What had been her longest previous run in them? What if they just fell apart? Do shoes just fall apart? Would she be able to go barefoot? Were her other shoes the right shoes?

These questions and more were the same ones she asked herself seemingly every race.

She heard the starting pistol go off. A few people in the mansion politely applauded, like they had done when hearing the other shots.

The volunteer looked at the other athlete and pulled the patio door open with her hand, her other hand still clutching the clipboard. “It is your turn!” she said chipperly. “The changing station is right outside the curtain with perfect privacy. Good luck and have fun!”