by Shawn Keys
The glance over at the stands had also made her notice a certain absence. She asked Daniel, “Is Cadence going to make it?”
“Azélie had her on nearly every talk-show and news outlet covering the event yesterday. They went through the whole tent city, one set after the other, from what it looked like. Don’t think she got back to her room until two in the morning.”
MK winced in sympathy. “She must have been dead on her feet.”
“The adrenaline was carrying her on, but she crashed hard after that. Given the chance, she would probably sleep for a week except that she has to meet with the Kangaruin marketing team. As soon as they heard the news, they got on a plane to come see their star. Probably going to try and lock down her contract into something exclusive before anyone else gets the idea.” Daniel chuckled and MK shared the laugh. They had both heard that she had a meeting with the Atlas Equipment representatives the next day, finally giving her a chance to make an impression on them. “She also wouldn’t miss your finals for the world. Irène agreed to pop over and wake her up when it gets close.”
“Have to make the finals first,” MK pointed out. She didn’t say it with uncertainty. Merely a statement of fact.
“Your times from the heat say you’re in the top eight.”
“So is Dior,” MK pointed out. “She’s in my semi-final.”
Daniel’s smile came out wry and crooked. “Play nice until the finals.”
“Nice is over,” MK growled. “Done with that. She’s going down.”
He didn’t argue. He saw the fire in her and didn’t want to dampen it. “Do what you need to do. Remember the mantra. Rhythm makes it smooth. Smooth is fast. Fast is gold.” He held out his fist.
She bumped it with a smile. “See you over the line, Coach.” With that, she moved toward the starting bracket to take her place in lane 3. She had kept quite a bit in reserve during the heats, coming in second behind Anan Kayode of Rwanda who would be in lane 5.
Dior was already in lane 4. She might have kept a little energy in her reserve tank, but she hadn’t come in second, beating out Ndidi Otieno from Burundi by almost a half-second. Dipping into a couple warming squats, Dior offered a gruff greeting. “So?”
Not catching on to what her rival was trying to say, MK shrugged, “So what?”
“Top four go through.” She jerked her chin down toward lane 1 and 2 where the slower runners-up were doing their own pre-race routines. “Nothing they got is going to catch us four. Not on our worst day.”
MK shrugged again. “And?”
“Means we don’t have to go crazy here. Save some for Kelly LaFontaine and Jenna Sandstrom in the final.”
A third shrug was MK’s answer. She knew what her rival was doing. “Not going to finish behind you again. That shit’s over.”
Dior’s lips pressed firmly together, trying to repress her irritation. “Back down. We can face off in the finals. Don’t kill us both too early.”
MK glared right back at her. “Take your own advice.”
“You’re slower. That means you give way. That’s the tradition.”
MK didn’t break their stare. “You aren’t faster. Last event, I was on the board above you.”
“Because an official waved a flag!”
“Well, that’s what we’re here to prove, isn’t it?” MK exhaled hard enough to flare her nose, not backing off. She reiterated, “I won’t finish behind you again. Back off if you want. I’m happy enough to save a little gas. But I’m going to be in that lane for the finals.”
Dior turned away, muttering something about ‘idiotic pride’ under her breath as she locked in her stance in the starting blocks.
MK accepted that her rival might be right.
She didn’t care.
She was not going to finish behind Dior again.
* * *
Daniel repositioned along the side of the track, giving himself a clear view of the entire span of where the race would take place. He didn’t hurry, drifting toward the end so he could be in a spot to see the finish.
Turning and walking backward, he looked toward MK and absorbed the way she settled into her blocks. Determined. Unyielding focus was dominant on her face. She’s not gonna to hold back in this race. He understood why. Strategy be damned. This was personal. One of those irrational things that was still important. It was key to what MK wanted. Every time she finished behind Dior, it chipped away at where she wanted to be. If she couldn’t let that happen again, he wasn’t going to talk her out of it.
By then, the announcers had finished their setup for the race. The officials took their proper spots. Not long after, the call came:
“To your marks!”
Most of the racers were already into their blocks, making a few last adjustments and getting into the zone. There was never that long before the next call since the officials didn’t want to leave them crouched for too long.
# Set! #
MK leaned into her splayed hands, bracing herself up into a launch position along with the rest of the competitors. It was a beautiful thing to see, Daniel admired as he waited expectantly for the gun shot. This state of dynamic tension. They were all as still as portraits, ready to unleash their explosive power.
Crack!
They were off. The official watching for false starts remained silent which declared this was going to be a valid race.
Daniel’s was instantly heartened as MK matched Dior and Anan stride for stride. He had never seen her get such a good start in active competition. The trio left Ndidi behind by a few meters and the gap began to grow from there. Over the first, second and third hurdles, the leading trio were in near synchronous concert. Their legs were hitting the same drumbeats, looking like the pistons of a single engine.
As they crested the 5th hurdle, Anan fell off pace. Focusing in on her, Daniel decided that the unfamiliar hurdler hadn’t lost her power. She wasn’t giving all she had. She was playing the long-game, holding something back for the finals. She knew she was through and wasn’t going to risk injury, a judge flagging her or any other possible disqualification just to be able to run in the center lanes. Her speed remained high enough to beat Ndidi, but otherwise held back.
That left Dior and MK to surge ahead. Over the 7th and 8th hurdles, the separation had grown to over four meters, locking them into a battle that was all their own.
For the first time in the long-running feud, MK was even with Dior as they went over the late hurdles. Mk had always had a killer finish, dropping into a new gear and digging deep to cross over the line in a burst of power. In prior contests between them, this was when Dior ceased her efforts at artful finesse and began plowing her way through the hurdles to fend off MK’s late surge.
Only this time… she didn’t. Dior leaped over the 9th and 10th hurdle with credible form, leaving them standing and relying instead on her stockier, sprinter’s body to lend her the power she needed for a final rush.
It wasn’t enough. MK raced over the line first. Daniel could see the separation in their torsos from where he stood. MK first, then Dior. No photo finish necessary. He didn’t need to wait for the scoreboard to place MK’s name above Dior’s to see for sure.
Beaming from ear-to-ear, Daniel jogged over, clapping, eager to congratulate her. It might have cost her, but she had done what she wanted.
As he approached, Dior’s back was turned to him. She couldn’t see him and left her voice far too loud to preserve any privacy. “I backed off.”
MK closed her eyes and shook her head, as if not believing what she was hearing. Then, she flicked her gaze up at her rival and said, “No, you didn’t.” Her tone left no allowance for being wrong. “You didn’t dare take down any hurdles. If you don’t, I can beat you.” Her face went hard as stone. “But you do what you need to do. Because I’ll beat either way. See you in the finals.”
With that dare delivered, she closed the last distance to Daniel. Irène might be the ‘hugger’ among them, but MK didn’t hesitate to
wrap her arms around him and cling to him for a while. With her lips near his ear, she whispered, “Thank you.”
Daniel didn’t answer with words. He hugged her back, letting their joy flow between them. He could tell that even if this wasn’t the final, she had exorcised the demon that had been haunting her for far too long. It wasn’t merely beating Dior. It was proving to herself that with effort and commitment, she could conquer any challenge.
That was her victory, and she shared in it with an open heart.
Chapter 20
The producer for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s midday coverage of the FLGs signaled her team, then gestured toward the pair of announcers behind the news desk to let them know that they were going on the air. She didn’t worry about making the transition too crisp. They weren’t broadcasting live. There was time for retakes and to edit out any errors.
Despite having a safety blanket, the consummate professionals Cara Normandy and Eric Kanstallen didn’t rely on it. They painted on their best smiles and took to their lines with as much charisma as they would have used on a live show.
Cara kicked things off. “It’s Day 12 here in Bordeaux, the third-last day of events for the French Language Games. It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, no matter how you look at it. We showed you the medal counts before the break, and those standings alone show how exciting and game-changing these Games have been.”
Eric seamlessly picked up the narrative. “It’s no surprise that France leads the medal standings, and that Belgium is maintaining a not-too-distant second while Canada and Switzerland are locked in competition for third. This has been the norm over the previous years of the FLGs.”
Cara resumed the speaking role. “One of the encouraging trends is the relatively strong showing from some of the African nations. Many experts are suggesting that this is indicative of new, pro-sporting initiatives that have begun in those countries. One of the best elements of high-level sporting competition is that these changes are whole-heartedly supported by the currently dominant nations. We’ve seen how Canada’s soccer teams, especially the women’s team, have maintained their capability while traveling around the world to help establish new franchises and conduct training camps. They know that the wider their sport spreads, the better the competition will be and the stronger the support will be from the international community. Seeing Cameroon, Burundi and Côte d’Ivoire fielding very competitive teams and remaining only a few medals back in the standings is impressive.”
Switching over to a more conversational tone, Eric shifted toward her, acting like they were ‘having a chat’ while on screen. “One of the other wonderful surprises is the reemergence of Portesara. Having missed the last FLGs while on their ban from the IOC and IAAF, their successful return to the competition has surprised a lot of people.”
“I’d have to agree,” Cara replied. “They’ve been on the podium a fair bit, and to be honest, I think they will do even better once some of their junior athletes come into their own over the next few years.”
“I believe your right, Cara. These results have to give their sports commission hope for the future. Especially with the men’s soccer team placing third in the tournament, the men’s cycling team pulling in three bronze medals in various races.” He chuckled good-naturedly. “I interviewed them yesterday and they shared a laugh about how their commission wasn’t sure cycling would be a strong sport on such a small island. They had a great sense of humor.” With a final smile, he finished, “The female indoor volleyball team also came in eighth, which is no small achievement in this field…”
Cara slid in smoothly, “… not to mention, the female artistic swimming and the women’s track and field team. After the swimming team’s surprise success at the Tirkaheizer event, we knew we were going to get a good show from this small, junior squad. What we got was incredible. They took fifth in team, fourth in the duet, and the very talented Melodie Michaud comes out of nowhere to earn herself a silver medal with that gorgeous ‘Dragon’ routine of hers.”
“You were right to bring up their track stars as well, Cara.” Eric noted. “The highlight was certainly Cadence Amirault’s definitive gold medal in the pole vault, but we would be remiss not to remember Dior DeLavar’s success in the 200-meter, earning herself a bronze medal after just missing the podium in the 100-meter hurdles.”
Cara did her part, adding a little excitement as she reported, “Though she has to be proud of her teammate, Mary-Katherine Savoie, who edged her out and took the bronze medal in that hurdles race. Neither of them made it into the finals for the 400-meter hurdles, but it’s still early in their training for those events. I think we’ll be seeing more of them in the coming years.”
“Portesara has broken back the circuit quite well, but they are not finished in the competition, and it’s possible we’ll see their medal standings change. Their 10-meter platform diving team isn’t expected to place higher than tenth, but they have both female and male participants in the marathon who might get into the top-ten.”
“What’s more,” Cara added, “while they don’t have a decathlete this year, Irène Minot will be their inaugural participant in the heptathlon. We’ll be excited to see how she can do on her first outing. We expect to have her here in the studio later today to talk about the first day of the event and her first adventure at an international sporting competition.”
“Looking forward to that.” Eric turned back toward the camera. “Following the break, we’ll be talking to our own Jenna Sandstrom who took home the gold in that intense 100-meter hurdles event. We’ll get her take on her joint training with France’s Kelly LaFontaine and how their friendship will affect their journey toward the World championships next year. At noon, we’ll take you to the Bordeaux athletics stadium for coverage of the decathlon and heptathlon high jump and shotput events. Please, stay with us.”
* * *
Irène bent over sideways, feeling the stretch along the right side of her body and then swung down to grasp her ankle, completing the stretch.
Daniel deliberately kept his eyes averted. From where he was standing, this stretch was giving him a beautiful view of her firm behind and lean, slender legs. It wasn’t a view conducive to pure thoughts. Not that she wasn’t showing the same view to half the athletics stadium. The spandex uniforms of heptathletes were almost identical to the incredibly revealing ones that Cadence wore for pole vaulting. One didn’t enter these competitions if you were bashful. Even though a few thousand people might be admiring her sexy ass, he didn’t have to join in… no matter tempting she made it.
Recovering from that stretch, Irène rolled up and leaned back, peering up at the sky, then continued bending herself over her other leg. In the space between stretches where her voice wasn’t quite so strained, she admitted, “When you first said I had to do seven events over two days, my first thought was that it didn’t seem like all that much. I mean, days are pretty long.”
“But not long enough.” Daniel chuckled.
“I know, right?” Irène groaned. “My legs are killing me.”
“On the plus side, the next event is javelin.”
“That still requires running.”
Daniel laughed again. “More of an all-body exercise, though. The rest of you can hurt equally after this one.”
Irène straightened so she could give a snicker. “Hey! That sounds suspiciously like you are making light of the pain I’m going through.”
“There’s a reason for that,” he said, letting the humor drift into a good mood as he delivered the news he had. “I know you’re too focused to be doing the math. That’s what I’m here for. With how well you’ve done, if you can hit even 880 points in the next two events, you’ll hit the Olympic entry mark. That was our goal in all this, right? Haven’t seen you get less than 900 in the javelin in a while. That’ll give you an even wider margin for the 800-meter run.”
“I’m that close?”
“Nail this one, Irène. Get out nea
r the 52 meter mark and all your stress can melt away. You’ve done what you need to do. Figure you should finish somewhere between 9th and 12th, depending on how your run goes. Pretty damned good, I’d say.”
Pleasure flushed through her whole being. “So, this is it, huh?”
“Could be.”
Irène brought her feet together, standing a little easier. She started to turn in a slow circle, taking in the ambiance of the stadium. Feeling the moment. The crowd noise rolled down over them. There was no critical event happening, meaning that the roar wasn’t all that loud. But it was still there, waiting to erupt. All those eyes were scanning around, looking for anything to lock onto so they could cheer. These people were there to be entertained. To be inspired.
Daniel felt the same thing. “It’s something, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She took a long breath. “Did you miss it?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Do you miss that it isn’t about you?” Irène asked the hard question.
Daniel didn’t begrudge her that. “It’s different. But I don’t feel cut off. You’re the one making your mark, but I know I had a hand in it.” He smiled again. “In some ways it’s even better. Normally I had one day out here on the field. One event, even if it was a combination. The rest of the time, I was watching from the athletes’ area in the stands.”
Irène nodded, growing a smirk. “Guess I can understand that.” Her expression changed into something a little more charitable. “You’ve made a difference. For all of us.” She scanned around quickly, then grinned. “Maybe not the right place to be saying on all this. But we’ve become a weird sort of family, haven’t we? We lean on you a lot. When things are going wrong, we know we can count on you to get us through it.”