Up before dawn, Emily threw on her suit, moving quietly to not disturb Steph sleeping in the guest room. Slammed down OJ, and left her a note, inviting her to eat whatever she needed. She'd slept well. Which surprised her. She had expected to lie awake, worrying about whatever the fuck Abby had done, worrying she'd somehow hurt her friends, worrying about what she was letting Cos do to her, worrying about telling her friends as much as she did. But as soon as she'd lain down, something clicked. Like before, when she had given into the fantasy, only this time, she was giving into whatever her life was becoming.
She woke up feeling refreshed, focused, committed to the Ironman. Her training all week had been shit, in spite of what Coach had been saying. She was going to spike it today. 5:30 was her goal, but she was going to do it by hitting all three events. On her drive to the pool, she felt good, things still clicking into place. Her friends, the night before, it was almost like a dream: the image of them safely tucked away in her phone, naked together, a gentle reminder of whatever it was that had moved her into this new direction.
She hit the water, cold and clear, sluicing in and surfacing with a steady beat, a rhythm, her body taking over, the tendril loosening its hold on her head, her spine, coiling back into her gut, making itself tiny. She felt alive, touch, flip, return. Again. And again. She felt her heart, beating strong, slow. She wasn't even hitting 50% maximum and she was half-way through.
"Pick it up now Emily!" She heard Coach yelling after her. Stroke, stroke, stroke, kicking, like some fish, the water cool against her body, keeping her from overheating. Flip and back. Again. She had lost count, focusing on her rhythm, her breath. The shrill of the buzzer let her know she'd touched first. Again.
"Out! Out! Go. Go. Go. You need to rest? Take five, otherwise, you feeling good? Keep that pace. You finished strong! 2 minutes better than last time. Yeah?" He looked at her face, confirming she was good to go. "Go!"
Shimmied into her shoes, wiped her face and onto the bike. The sun was up, but just barely, the streets empty, street lamps darkening in front of her, as if she was shutting them off. She could feel the burn in her legs and calmed it down, the adrenaline from the pool needed to be paced out on the bike. Her lungs grabbed air, she felt alive. Coach had planned a different circuit, guides at key points, but she knew the route. They'd practiced it during the week. By mile 10 she was sweating, the morning air cool against her suit, her hair dry and blowing. She put an elastic around it as she rode, feeling her pace, prepping to inch her speed up mile by mile. And then the event marker, water station, and off, leaving her jacket with the bike, splashing water, sipping as little as necessary, her breathing regular, her heartrate strong.
And then her favorite leg. Running through the air, the wind on her face, the blood pumping through her, her heart strong, a steady drumbeat in her ears. She fell into her zone, a tiny part of her consciousness tracking her pace, glancing at her watch, feeling how tired her legs were getting. Four miles left, she could feel the burn, but she had plenty in reserve, moving her pace by 30 seconds,
12:15, 12:15.
She was closing in on it, the final mile staring her down, her lungs starting to complain, her quads and hammies hot and nearing their max. And then, like a crystal light, she focused on the final segment, pushing the complaints and pains and fatigue out of her mind,
12:00 12:00
increasing her pace to as fast a sprint as she could handle, bursting across the finish line, wheezing and crying and letting her body come back, pain and exhaustion and struggling to find her breath.
Coach was shouting something at her, but the blood pounding in her ears was all she could hear. "Whah...whah...whah?" She struggled to inhale, splashing water and drinking and looking around. Smiling. Lots of smiling and high fives and clapping. She finally heard what he was saying.
"5:17! 5:17! Broston! What the hell, girl? 5:17!" He knew better than to touch her, but she could feel his pride across the arms' length distance he was keeping.
Fuck yes!
More important than beating her previous time was her
knowing
her body and
knowing
when to cut back, when to bring on the juice. She could feel her leg muscles twitching, half an hour later, as she got in Andy's car to swing back and pick up her bike. She couldn't call Caroline again, could she?
"Hey."
"Hey," Caroline's voice, sleepy.
"Fuck. You're not up. Why aren't you up? It's past 10:30? Sorry. I'll call you later."
"No. I'm up. I'm up. I had to answer the phone." She laughed a little. "Seriously. I've been up for hours. I'm just exhausted. You do good?"
"Yeah! Another personal best!"
"You want to do the tub?"
Em could hear plates clinking near the phone. "Could I? I don't want to impose."
"C'mon over. I'll get her heated up."
And then the luxury of slipping into the hot water, roiling from the jets, her body melting into the heat.
Caroline came out a little later. "I'll join you in a minute." And disappeared into the pool house.
"You thought about the picnic Sunday?" Her friend sat across from her, her body bobbing against the jets.
Emily shook her head. "Not much. Just now, as soon as you brought it up. Waddya think?"
Caroline tilted her head, her hands playing with the water. "Wellll, no guys. I don't think we can bring the guys in. Ever."
Em heard the concern behind Caroline's words.
Because they'll turn into Cos and I don't want that.
She nodded, looking away. "Maybe so. Maybe that wouldn't be such a great idea. What about the gang?" She couldn't tell her what she'd seen. The couples witnessing her sacrifice. She was happy to be in the tub, her squirming hidden by the jets.
"They'll kill us if we don't bring 'em in. It'll kill the friendship. But I feel you. We can't just not tell them either."
They looked at each other and thought about the options, rolling them over in their minds.
"You okay?" Em stared at her friend, waiting.
"Yeah. I'm okay. Got home and felt like I'd been drinking too much, but I only had three beers all night. 'Went to bed with a cloudy head, woke up thinking I'd been dead.'" She smiled. "Bobby. He's putting lyrics together." She laughed and shrugged. "But seriously. That lamp thing. It got pretty hot and heavy last night." The memory of how hard her clit had been, how swollen her pussy had been. She shook her head.
"You've only had a couple of doses. No. I'm not being competitive," she held out her hand. "Seriously, I'm just sayin'. If you are feeling that way with a couple of doses, what do you think you'll feel like after a week?"