“I don’t want you to drive me home,” she said through clenched teeth. “I want directions home. Will you give them to me or not?” She waited for the inevitable chastisement, for being called bitch, difficult, or some other nasty moniker for wanting to do what she believed was the right thing for her, instead of doing things his way.
But it never came.
“You’re fatigued. You won’t remember the directions, and could wind up dying out there.”
“I’ll remember them,” she said stubbornly. “And my mortality is my problem, isn’t it?” He just stared at her, judgment in his eyes. “Seriously, dude! What part of ‘I just need directions’ do you not fucking get?”
“What part of ‘you’re in real danger’ do you not fucking get?” he countered. “Look, I can call a car service to come get you. They must have those around here…”
Hannah took a deep breath. “Look, Grizzly Adams. As you observed, I’m tired and I’m dehydrated and cold and hungry. And as much as I’m really enjoying standing here and getting a little closer to death, all I want is some fucking directions back to town!”
She couldn’t be sure. But Hannah swore she saw a twinkle in his eye when she called him Grizzly Adams.
“Fine, Grace Kelly,” he said sarcastically, eyeing her skinned-up knees and overall disheveled appearance. “You want your directions, you got ‘em.”
He disappeared, leaving Hannah standing on his porch. She was shivering almost uncontrollably by now, but knew she’d warm up the moment she started running again. Grizzly the Mountain Man returned with a piece of paper in his hand.
“Here you go, Grace,” he said, handing it to her. “Directions back to town. I assume you know how to get home from there…”
Hannah looked at the piece of paper, a crude map drawn on it with directions clearly written. She was so relieved that she easily ignored his little barb.
“Thank you.”
He leaned against the door frame. “It’s just over a half mile to the road. Then turn right.”
Hannah nodded, glancing at the directions again, already knowing where she was. She turned and began to run into the darkness.
“Don’t die on me, now,” he called after her.
Hannah kept running, but she couldn’t help but smile.
Hannah lounged in her clawfoot bathtub, turning on the hot water again to reheat the bath. She grimaced when the hot water burned her skinned knees and hands, but let it flow for another minute before turning it off. It took time, and a bath hot enough to scald anyone else, but she finally felt warm again after her little adventure on the trails.
She shook her head, taking another gulp of water. God, that was stupid. She never got lost. Ever. But now Hannah clearly understood that allowing her mind to wander off and trusting her very life to a $250 device was a dumbass thing to do. What if she’d gone the wrong way, farther away from civilization? What if she’d collapsed from dehydration or gotten hypothermia? What if an angry bear had come after her because she looked like some kind of blonde threat in her running gear?
Never again. She’d learned her lesson. No one but her had to know she screwed up like that.
Well, her and Grizzly Adams.
She shook her head. Who was that guy? She’d been living in Evergreen long enough now that she’d begun recognizing most people. It wasn’t a big town, and everyone sort of got to know everyone. She would have remembered if she’d seen him before. He was memorable—burly and thickly bearded and intense enough to seem a little menacing. Like a crusty old mountain man, but without the crust. And not old. Probably her age, if her addled mind had estimated correctly.
And what was up with his social skills? It was like he didn’t have any, like he’d been cooped up in that log cabin a little too long. Not that she was one to talk… she wished her own A-frame home was farther away from civilization, and it wasn’t like she was known for saying the right things. And him calling her Grace Kelly! What was up with that? Because it sure wasn’t a compliment. But then again, whether the insult referred to her graceless words or her torn-up clothing, that was the kind of insult she could get on board with. It had imagination and wit. Unlike calling her a bitch for wanting a night to herself, like Jeff had.
Grizzly was right about one thing. She’d been in pretty bad shape and shouldn’t have run home. The run home was far from inspiring, and she’d stumbled more than once and fought off dizziness and pain.
Also… was it just her being exhausted and dehydrated, or was Grizzly kind of hot? You know, beneath the overgrown beard and the surly look. She’d always been a sucker for big brown eyes, and after spending most of her time around skinny runners, a man with some beef on him was a nice change. Plus, he didn’t bitch out like Jeff did when she said no to his offer. Which meant he wasn’t a crybaby. She hated crybabies.
But then there was the know-it-all attitude. With the assumption that he was right and she should just do what he said because he said it. As if being a man made him a damned expert that everyone bowed down to. She hated that. If she wanted that, she’d have asked to borrow his phone and called her father. Jonathan Christiansen loved to dispense advice to women like they were stupid. He’d certainly done so to her mother enough.
Hannah sighed, letting the hot bathwater soothe her. A rough day, for sure. But a valuable lesson that cost her little more than a GPS watch, a pair of tights, and a few extra hours. It was good training for the High Peaks 100, which would offer her plenty of exhaustion and dehydration, well beyond what she experienced today.
Just as Hannah dried off and put on some sweats, her phone rang. It was Teagan.
“How’s desert life?” Hannah said.
“It’s beautiful,” Teagan said. “It’s just starting to get hot, though. How are you? I assumed that by calling this late you might be home and not out running.”
Hannah scoffed. “You’re lucky you caught me. I was almost out all night thanks to a little GPS mishap.”
“Really? What happened?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just out longer than I needed to be. It’s good training for High Peaks.”
“Speaking of which, how’s training going? You aren’t overtraining, right?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because we know you, Hannah. You’d run yourself into the grave if it weren’t for the fact that you get hungry…”
Hannah took another drink of water and turned on her fireplace. “I’m following a standard training regime for ultramarathons, and I’m fine.”
“Good. Do you need crew during the race? You know, to have all your food and drinks ready when you need them?”
Hannah hesitated. “You don’t have to do that, Teagan. It’s a lot of work and I don’t want to make you come all the way up here from Tucson.”
“Um, yeah. Getting out of the blazing Arizona heat in summer to come to the Colorado Mountains and support one of my best friends? Such a punishment.”
Hannah laughed. “You know I’d love to have you, if you can make it. Not just for the food and drink, but to see a happy face when I’m miserable or puking or have diarrhea.”
“Sounds awesome,” Teagan said, laughing. “So how long does the race take, time-wise?”
“They cut it off after thirty hours. If you aren’t done by then, you aren’t an official finisher. My goal is to make that cutoff, obviously, but my true goal is to finish in twenty-six hours.”
“Jeez, Hannah. I don’t know how you do it.”
“I’m crazy. It’s as simple as that.” Teagan giggled. “So, how’s the handsome fiancé?”
Hannah could almost hear Teagan smile.
“He’s good. He says hello.”
“When are you guys getting hitched, anyway?”
Teagan hesitated. “Well, neither of us wants to mess with a wedding or waste money on one, especially since most of our friends and family live out of state. So we’re eloping. You aren’t upset, are you?”
Ha
nnah snorted. “You know I hate weddings, so no.” Then she realized how that sounded, and added, “But you know I would be happy to attend yours. I mean that.”
“I know you do. But you’re off the hook. You may be off the hook twice, actually. Diana’s got a tiny baby bump but has no interest in getting married right now.”
Hannah laughed. “Our little D, knocked up and unmarried. Who knew she had it in her?”
“Right?” Teagan cried, laughing. “I’m so happy for her. Asher’s the best thing that ever happened to her.”
“I know.” Hannah sighed. “I’m no romantic, by any stretch. But seeing her with him—seeing you and Aaron, too—it kind of makes me wish I could find that. I like my alone time, but I don’t want to spend my life alone.” Hannah flashed back to Jeff’s nasty comment.
“You’ll find it, Hannah. Trust me. That cheesy platitude is true—he’ll come out of nowhere when you least expect it.”
All of a sudden, Grizzly came to mind. She shook that thought away. As if!
After they hung up, Hannah lay on her comfy leather couch and pulled out her e-reader. Boy, was she going to sleep well tonight.
She had barely eight weeks until race day. This was her year, the year she would do the thing people told her she couldn’t do, the thing her father had said women weren’t “cut out for.” She was going to run one of the toughest 100-mile races there was, grueling because the race took place in Colorado’s high country, where the mountains made the race ten times more difficult and the altitude crushed those who weren’t trained for it.
But she’d trained for it. Hannah Christiansen didn’t do anything half-assed or leave anything to chance. She’d followed that training regime to the letter. She even pushed herself a little harder than the regime required, to ensure she was in top-notch shape. She kept a log of her runs, including her mileage, her pace, her hydration, her run times, and her heart rate. She ate on schedule, choosing the foods one should eat before, during, and after runs. She pushed herself until exhaustion on most days, even past pain on some days. It wasn’t always fun and sometimes it was even miserable. But that’s what you had to do. That’s what was required.
The majority of entrants never even finished the High Peaks 100. It was that hard.
But Hannah was going to finish, no matter what it took.
Chapter Three
Hannah grimaced and slowed her pace to a walk. It was the second time she’d felt a twinge in her left foot that week. She wasn’t worried—twinges and soreness and pains came with training for a long-distance running race—but it still annoyed her. She didn’t need anything getting in her way now. Not when she was a week away from her race, and doing her “taper” runs.
She was ready. She knew she was. She had her crew lined up, her gear picked out, and her food and hydration planned. Every one of those twenty-six hours—or thirty if absolutely necessary—was planned in the minutest detail. Now, her job was to rest, run a little to keep the parts oiled, and get ready for the big show.
It was said that you run the first half of a 100-mile race with your legs and the second half with your mind. The first half was all physical, the second mental. The longest Hannah had run was sixty miles, during a race earlier that year. Because the second fifty could be so grueling, High Peaks allowed runners to take on a pacer after Mile 50, someone who could run with you, carry your water, keep you motivated, and, when fatigue took over, keep you on the trail instead of getting lost in the dark wilderness. But Hannah didn’t want a pacer. She wanted to do this herself, without help.
When Hannah got back home, she felt drained and wiped out. She fumbled with her front door lock, getting impatient with it. Inside, her phone rang. Teagan.
“Hey, Teagan.”
“Hey. I got all your documents and instructions. The only thing I don’t have is contact info for Summer. I want to coordinate with her directly so you can focus on resting up.”
Hannah sighed. “Shit. I didn’t even include her contact info? Hold on. I’ll send it to you now before I forget.” Hannah sent Teagan an email.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m ready.”
“Good. I can’t wait. I’m so glad to be part of this.”
“I’m glad you’re coming. What time do I need to pick you up at the airport?” Hannah said, collapsing on her couch.
“You aren’t picking me up. I’m renting a car.”
“Oh come on, Teagan,” Hannah snapped. “I told you I’d loan you mine!”
There was a pause. “What’s wrong, Hannah? You sound edgy.”
Hannah bit her lip. “Shit. I’m sorry I snapped like that. It’s not you at all. I’m just tired and irritable. It can happen in the late stages of training.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m coming and I’m going to help and we’re going to have a blast.”
Hannah smiled, relieved. “Thanks, T.”
And then the day came. Race day. Hannah was up at 4:00 a.m. in their hotel room, eating and drinking coffee and preparing herself for what would be the adventure of her life, at least so far. She didn’t sleep well at all, but that was normal. She’d gotten plenty of sleep before last night, and that’s what mattered.
Teagan and Summer got ready too, checked everything twice, and drove Hannah to the start of the race. The sun was already coming up, but it was still cold out, as it always was at that hour in the mountains. The weather forecast looked decent—no freak snowstorms or heat waves. Other runners milled around, pinning their bib numbers on themselves, waiting in line for the portable restrooms, and doing any pre-race rituals that worked for them.
Hannah, decked out in her trusty Athena gear and her blonde hair braided, went to the restroom one last time. Her stomach fluttered and her hands shook. Holy shit. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to run one hundred miles at high altitude, over mountains and into the darkness tonight?
“How’s my girl?” Summer asked her.
“Nervous as hell,” Hannah admitted, rubbing her arms to warm herself.
“If you weren’t, I’d be worried,” Summer said.
“Me too,” Teagan added.
Hannah looked at her two friends, her unsentimental heart feeling a sudden swell of love. “Thank you both so much for being here. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
Teagan smiled. “It’s just an excuse to watch you suffer while we sit here and drink beer.”
“Yeah,” Summer chimed in.
Hannah laughed. She put an arm around each friend and pulled them close. They extended their arms around her waist and she held her friends for a moment.
Then it was time. She said goodbye to her friends, knowing she would see them in a few hours at the aid station that allowed cars, where support crews would set up temporary camp and wait for their runners to arrive. At 6:00 a.m., the gun went off… and Hannah and her fellow crazies took off.
Hannah grimaced.
There it was again. The pain in her left foot. It was Mile 41, and so far so good. She was fed and hydrated. She was energetic—as energetic as one could be after running forty miles at high altitude, knowing there were sixty more to go. Seeing Teagan and Summer had boosted her confidence far more than she thought it would. She’d accepted their help as a just-in-case, and because seasoned ultra-runners told her she should. But now she was beginning to see that their smiling faces and words of support might be more important than she realized.
She shouldn’t need that kind of support, should she? Not if she were a true warrior of the trails, running for herself and her personal goals.
But the pain. Fortunately, at that stage in the race, she and the others had to ascend Spruce Pass, which reached well over 12,000 feet in elevation. That meant she could “power hike” and give her foot a rest. To run up a trail that steep and at that elevation would be a waste of energy, and all but the elite racers opted to hike.
She’d had a good race so far. She’d run on flat dirt roads, on single-t
rack trails, through fields and forests, up hills and down hills, and up the steep mountain pass she hiked now, the one that would lead her down to the aid station at Mile 50. There, she would eat, drink, see her friends… and then turn her ass around and do the same trail all the way back to the start.
Hannah didn’t remember much of the race. She kept her eyes on the trail in front of her, and on her watch, making sure she was on pace and pushing herself to make her twenty-six-hour goal.
She’d passed some other racers. Some had passed her. It was a long game of leap frog, everyone speeding up when they felt good, slowing down when they didn’t, stopping to pee (or otherwise) wherever they could. She’d already seen a little carnage—skinned knees, injury, vomiting or other stomach troubles for those who were undertrained or having difficulty with the altitude. They’d survived the intense high-altitude sun, a thunderstorm that chilled their tired bodies, and a few winds. It was all part of the journey.
At the top of Spruce Pass, Hannah took a brief breather and accepted a snack provided by those who’d set up a small aid station. Aid stations would be increasingly important from here on out, as the racers began to feel the effects of the distance and the altitude. But so far, other than her irritating foot pain, her fatigue, and a good dose of nausea, Hannah felt decent. She would make it to the halfway point at about 7:00 p.m.
She was right on schedule.
At 8:10 p.m., the sun gone but light still in the sky, Hannah pulled into the aid station at Mile 50. Teagan and Summer were waiting for her.
“You’re grimacing,” Summer said, eyeing her. “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve got a little pain in my left foot,” Hannah admitted. “It nagged me a little before, and it got worse on the descent from Spruce Pass. I had to walk a little. That’s why I’m late.” She shook her head. “If I don’t speed it up, I won’t make my twenty-six-hour goal.”
“Your goal is to finish,” Summer said, Teagan nodding along with her. “Don’t sweat over one lost hour. Tell me about your foot.”
Going The Distance (Four Corners Book 3) Page 2
