Skip pinned his number on his chest and strapped the timing chip to his ankle. He received the timing chip when he registered and was told it had to be worn at all times during the race or his results could not be posted. Also the chip had to be exchanged in the finish area in order to receive a medal that he had finished the marathon—didn’t matter his time or where he placed.
Skip had previously given the girls information on how to download a tracking tool application on their cell phones. All they had to do was enter the race year, event, last name, and city of the runner. The chip also made it possible for the girls’ to check his progress minute-by-minute. Not wearing the chip would result in missing split times, which could result in disqualification. Each mile was to be clearly labeled on the race course and split times called at each marker.
Water and Aid stations were set up approximately every two miles providing the runners with the fluid of their choice such as Gatorade, plain bottled water, or other sports drink, in addition to basic medical items and Honey Bucket portable toilets.
Skip checked the route map one more time. The map also gave the various times when sections would be open to traffic which started at 2:15 p.m. Road blocks allowed for a seven-hour Marathon Walk finish and a six-hour Marathon Run finish. Additionally, all marathon participants still on the I-90 floating bridge after 11:00 a.m. were to be bused to the end of the bridge and allowed to finish the marathon. The race officials felt this allowed for a 25 minute-per-mile pace for walkers and an 18 minute-per-mile pace for runners. Skip’s long training runs were in the eight to nine minutes-per-mile pace. If all went well, he thought he could finish in under four hours.
Skip gave Agatha a pat on her silky head and left his condo.
───
SKIP PUT IN HIS earplugs blocking out the noise of the crowd. Eleven thousand runners were expected. He planned to remove the plugs once the race started. Along the course, the cheers helped to keep the runners motivated especially the last six miles. Most marathon runners agreed that the last six miles of the race were the real test, the real marathon. This is when fatigue really sets in and when many runners give up.
He told Gilly he was going to start the race at the back of the pack. In college, he had started his first marathon in the front, right after the wheelchairs, and a runner had trampled on his foot. His coach told him that starting in the rear you could weave in and out as space between runners opened up plus it made you feel good to be passing others.
Wheelchair athletes were first and had an escort throughout the race. It was required that they wear hard-shell helmets and that their wheelchairs be adequately equipped for safety.
Skip’s eyes darted over the crowd looking for the four girls in bright red jackets. He saw Nicole first, holding a sign: Go Skip Go! He strolled over to them grinning as he removed the earplugs. Handing them to Gilly, she threw her arms around him and wished him well. Not wanting to miss a thing, Maria, Gabby and Nicole took their turn hugging their favorite runner.
Gilly showed him the extra Gatorade bottles she was carrying and Nicole said she had extra bandages in case of a blister.
It was nearing time for the race to start. The wheelchair athletes were already on their way. The Marathon Walk started at 7:15 a.m. The Half Marathon Run, thirteen miles, at 7:30 a.m. The Marathon Run was scheduled to start at 8:15 a.m.
Skip downed sixteen ounces of water and handed the empty bottle to Nicole. Even though he wasn’t thirsty, he had to be sure he was fully hydrated. It didn’t matter now but could mean later on whether he finished the race or not.
And, he was going to finish!
Chapter 49
───
IT WAS TIME!
The moment he had trained for!
The official raised the starting gun.
Raised the microphone to his lips.
“On your mark.
Get set.
Go!”
Skip shifted foot-to-foot waiting for the throng of runners to move. Slowly the swarm, like a tsunami making its way to shore, began to inch forward.
He took a step. Another. He was on his way.
Skip picked his spots passing one runner at a time.
He zigged.
He zagged.
By mile four a large group of runners had dropped out. They had run the 3.1 miles of a 5K race and had had the thrill of starting a marathon. The crowd lining the course cheered their success.
Skip kept moving up.
He felt great, exhilarated but was careful to continue hydrating. Every two miles he grabbed a bottle from the outstretched hand of a volunteer at the water station.
His legs were strong, his breathing controlled.
In. In.
Out. Out.
There were spectators on the road ahead.
The Lake Washington Boulevard cheering section. Four red jackets, eight arms in the air were waving wildly at him, he waved back, fingers forming a V that he was okay.
Grasping a water bottle at the ten-mile water station he noticed the group behind him shrank. The runners had hit 10K, 6.2 miles.
In. In.
Out. Out.
Swinging around Seward Park he knew he’d passed the fourteen-mile mark. He ate his second energy bar. Picked up water at station sixteen. He began to feel the strain in his legs and slowed his pace. He hadn’t seen the red jackets since Lake Washington Boulevard.
In. In.
Out. Out.
To finish in a certain time was not his goal. It didn’t bother him that he had slowed his pace. The goal was to finish. He fingered the ring in his pocket, smiled, picking up his pace again. He figured he was running a nine- or ten-minute mile. As he grabbed the water at station twenty, the volunteer hollered, “Only six more.”
It hit him.
The wall.
He had felt it before in college.
“Focus.
In. In.
Out. Out.”
He slowed. Ate his last bar. Hands on hips, he walked three minutes, drank a water from a cup in the outstretched hand.
Started to run again. Easy, slow pace. He focused on the road in front of him. He didn’t dare look up.
“Focus, Hunter.”
In. In. Out. Out.
“You can do this, Hunter.”
In. In. Out. Out.
“You’ve done it before. Come on, boy. Focus.”
He could see Memorial Stadium. The street was lined deep. People were cheering their runner on, holding signs, yelling out names, numbers.
In. In. Out. Out.
“Focus. Half mile more. Focus.”
His feet were screaming at him. He felt a cramp in his calf.
“Focus. Focus.”
In ... In .... Out .... Out …
He was in the stadium. The finish line was just on the other side.
In ... In .... Out .... Out …
The roar was thundering.
“Just a few more feet, Hunter.”
In ... In ... Out ... Out …
Red jackets. Red jackets. Focus.
In ... In ... Out ... Out …
Skip’s feet slapped the last two steps, felt the tape on his chest. He pushed through.
He finished!
He bent over, hands on his thighs. Breathed deep. A race official walked up to him, un-strapped the chip from his ankle. “Good job, Hunter.” His official time was recorded.
Nicole was the first to hug his sweat-stained shirt, then Gilly, Maria, and Gabby. Hawk thumped him on the back.
Skip reached into his pocket, felt the ring, grasped it tight in his fingers. He looked over at Gilly standing a few feet away. A man stepped to her side. Put his arm around her. Stepped back, his arm slipping off her shoulder.
Then she was walking toward him. She’s walking to me.
Gilly hugged him. Her arms tight around him. She stepped back. “Skip, you did it. You finished. Your goal.”
“Yes.” He suddenly felt weak, his body giving way to the e
xtreme exertion. His eyes darted between Gilly and the man standing next to her … again.
Gilly looked from the man to him. “Skip, I’d like you to meet Maxime Beaumont. Maxime meet Skip Hunter, the man we’ve been cheering for.”
Maxime put his hand out, but Skip had no strength. His fingers released the ring in his pocket. He stood, arms hanging at his sides, staring at the man.
“Maxime, I’ll meet you at the tunnel. Give me a few minutes with Skip.”
Maxime nodded, squeezed her shoulder. “Nice race, Skip. Not many can accomplish what you just did.” He walked up the track to the exit tunnel.
Skip looked at Gilly.
Gilly stepped closer. They were alone in the thundering crowd.
“When you began training for the marathon you told me your goal was to finish. Skip you did it. You also told me that you were using your training, and then the running of the race to move your life forward, that you would then see if I was open to move along with you. We’ve been through so much together … you’ve been there for me so many times. But you and I are going to move forward on different paths now. I’m returning to Paris with Maxime … Robyn and I—
“Skipper, Skipper.” Diane shot in front of Gilly, hugged Skip as if he was going to evaporate. “Let’s go celebrate. The whole newsroom watched on television. You should have heard them screaming. I was checking your time with my cell. Didn’t think I’d make it here before you left. The crowds are crazy.” Diane noticed Gilly. “Ah, Gillianne Wilder. Wasn’t he wonderful?”
“Yes. He’s wonderful. Bye, Skip.” Gilly tried to smile. She leaned around Diane, kissed his cheek. “Keep writing. I expect to see your book in print someday.”
Skip watched her as she walked away from him.
He had finished the race but lost the girl.
Chapter 50
Gillianne – Haute Couture
Paris
THE BRUNETTE TELEVISION REPORTER looked into the camera and smiled.
“Bonjour, Paris. Yesterday afternoon reporters from news outlets around the world crushed into the Carrousel du Louvre on the last day of Paris Fashion Week.
“The media and the fashion industry’s elite witnessed a special moment on the runway. Gillianne Wilder, living in Paris a mere three years, revealed her new collection to a standing ovation. Following her last model down the runway with her adorable daughter, both redheads, they smiled and waved to the crowd.
“Her husband, Senator Maxime Beaumont, strode down the aisle between the spectators with a bouquet of flowers for his wife and a small nosegay for his daughter. Reaching up, he placed their three-month-old son in her arms, kissed her passionately, and then kissed his daughter handing her the flowers to the roar of the crowd clamoring for more. Madame Wilder opened her first shop soon after her arrival from Seattle and continues to maintain her original shop in Seattle.”
Maxime shut off the television and turned to his wife. “So, you are the talk of Paris, my darling. I knew you could do it. Your collection is beautiful … you are beautiful,” he said pulling her into his arms.
“Uh, excuse me, Senator. Your car is waiting out front.”
“Thank you, Eric. And the car seats … are they fastened securely?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wonderful. Gillianne and I will be right down with Robyn and Clayton.”
With his family safely ensconced in the limousine, Maxime slipped in the other side next to his wife. He kissed her hand and then gazed out at the sparkling water of the Seine as the vehicle merged with the Paris traffic. “Mother is beside herself that we’re joining her in the country with the children. She insisted that she and Gertie could handle Robyn and the baby so we could have some time alone. But, she made me promise I would see to it that you had time to rest.”
He turned … caught the sparkle in his wife’s eyes, and kissed her cheek. “How lucky I am to have you by my side. I love you, Gillianne.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” she said raising her lips to his. Smiling, she looked out the window at the shops, the flower stalls, and the cafes. “Oh … Eric, can you stop a minute at that bookstore?” Grasping Maxime’s hand, she smiled up at him. “Mom called this morning. She said Skip’s book is in print. I want to see if they have it. I’ll just be a minute.” She planted a quick kiss on Maxime’s cheek and scooted into the store, pausing briefly at their window display.
“Oui, Madame, may I help you?”
“Oui, s'il vous plaît. The book in the window … over in the corner. I’m afraid it’s slipped off the holder.”
The woman walked to the side of the display, reached in and picked up the book. “This one, Madame?”
“Oui, merci.”
Gilly paid for the book, stood a moment running her finger over the title and the author’s name: The Seattle Gold Heist, by Skip Hunter. She flipped through a couple of pages and found the dedication her mom had told her about.
In memory of my friend Clay Wilder
who held the key to the mystery.
The End
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CHOICES
AND THE COURAGE TO RISK
Copyright © 2012 by Mary Jane Forbes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, locations, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author.
ISBN: 978-0-9847948-2-9 (sc)
Printed in the United States of America
Todd Book Publications: April 2012
Second Edition: August 2017
Port Orange, Florida
Cover re-design 2018: pro_ebookcovers
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The following book was extremely enlightening as to the training required to run a marathon: David A. Whitsett, Forrest Dolgener, Tanjala Mabon Kole, The Non-Runner’s Marathon Trainer, McGraw Hill eBook, 1998
Tasha Hériché—thanks for your painstaking editing and suggestions for the French connection.
Roger and Pat Grady—thanks for finding the loose ends and helping to close the loops, as well as suggestions for missing backstory.
Lorna Mae Prusak, Vera Kuzmyak, and Molly Tredwell for their review of the manuscript and continued support.
Thank you all!
Suggested reading: THE BABY QUILT
An old photo with a hidden clue. A house that may hold the answers. Can one real estate agent unravel her past and find a love that will set her free?
Successful Daytona Beach real estate broker Melanie Beckett loves helping people find their forever homes. But with no mother or father to be proud of her success, her abandonment issues remain painfully unresolved. After listing a foreclosed house, she’s shocked to see it’s the same building that appears i
n the only remnant of her past: a photo of her parents holding her as a baby.
Captivated, Melanie discovers a trunk stashed in the home that plunges her into a quest following her father's footsteps across the wilds of Alaska. Teaming up with a charming local doctor, she hires bush planes and dogsleds that will help her track down a terrible secret…if her guides don't lead her astray. As old wounds resurface, will Melanie let her painful past rule her life, or will she finally find a love that can set her free?
The Baby Quilt is a standalone cozy romantic mystery. If you like dramatic suspense, emotional ups and downs, and ordinary people in extraordinary situations, then you’ll love Mary Jane Forbes’ emotional novel.
Buy The Baby Quilt to pull back the covers on a romantic mystery today!
GRAB A COPY ON AMAZON.
TAP: BABY QUILT
Books by Mary Jane Forbes
DroneKing Trilogy
A Toy Drone for Christmas
Bradley Farm Series
Bradley Farm, Sadie, Finn
Jeli, Marshall, Georgie
The Baker Girl
One Summer, Promises
Twists of Fate Series
The Fisherman, a love story
The Witness, living a lie
Twists of Fate, daring to dream
Murder by Design Series
Murder by Design
Labeled in Seattle
Choices, And the Courage to Risk
Elizabeth Stitchway, PI, Series
The Mailbox, Black Magic,
The Painter, Twister
House of Beads Mystery Series
Murder in the House of Beads
Intercept, Checkmate
Identity Theft
Novels - standalone
The Baby Quilt … a mystery!
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 59