Page 29 of The Big Race

The trail curved around a stand of evergreens, their branches heavy with snow.

The sun was dazzling against the white landscape, making everything sparkle like it had been dusted with diamond powder.

Despite my initial awkwardness, I was finding my rhythm, enjoying the distinctive waddle-walk that snowshoes required.

“We’re making good time,” Ray said, checking his watch. “The teams from the Madrid flight could still be back at the parasail challenge.”

“Let’s not get cocky,” I warned. “Remember Adrienne? She’s from Colorado. This is probably like walking to the mailbox for her.”

Just as the words left my mouth, my right snowshoe caught on something hidden beneath the snow—probably a fallen branch. I pitched forward, arms windmilling, and landed face-first in a deep drift.

For a moment, I lay there, the snow surprisingly comfortable against my flushed face. Then I heard Ray’s laughter, not unkind but genuinely amused.

“This is like trying to walk with flippers on a moving sidewalk,” I mumbled into the snow.

“Need a hand, babe?” Ray was already beside me, extending his gloved hand.

I rolled over and looked up at him, snowflakes clinging to my eyelashes. “Maybe I’ll just stay here. It’s actually quite nice.”

“And let Cherisse and Desiree overtake us? I don’t think so.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me upright with one smooth motion, then brushed the snow from my jacket and hat. “Besides, your nose is turning a very alarming shade of red.”

“Very flattering,” I grumbled, but I was smiling. There was something comforting about the familiar weight of his hand on my back, steadying me as I found my footing again.

“You know,” he said conversationally as we resumed our trek, “snowshoeing really is like a relationship in one way.”

“How’s that?” I asked, hyperaware of every step, determined not to fall again.

“It’s all about finding the right balance between looking ahead to where you’re going and paying attention to what’s right in front of you.

” He demonstrated, lifting his snowshoes with deliberate care over a small drift.

“Too much focus on the big picture, and you miss the obstacles at your feet. Too much focus on the immediate steps, and you lose sight of your destination.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the insight. “When did you get so wise about relationships?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve had a good teacher these last few weeks.”

I adjusted my steps, and sure enough, the effort lessened.

The slope forced us into a zigzagging descent, each turn kicking up a spray of powder.

Even with the snowshoes, my thighs burned by the time we reached the far side of the slope.

Behind us, we saw Desiree and Cherisse had realized their mistake and gone back for snowshoes.

The trail leveled out, merging with a groomed cross-country ski track. Ray looked around. “They must have some skis around here.” There was a small hut at the edge of the trail, and he moved smoothly over there in his snowshoes.

“Yup, cross-country skis here,” he said, already beginning to take off his snowshoes.

“How can you tell the difference?” I asked, as I joined him.

“Cross-country skis are long, narrow, and designed for gliding across varied terrain, while downhill skis are shorter, wider, and built for stability and speed,” he said.

Ray was already taking off his snowshoes. “Fortunately, we did some of this in North Carolina too,” he said. “This would be a good time to add a layer. While it’s still not too cold, let’s add our long-sleeved thermals.”

When I took off my parka I realized how frigid it was up there, and I hurried to put on my thermal shirt. Only when the parka was back on did I start to warm up again.

“Use your legs more than your arms,” he instructed. “Keep a steady glide, and don’t fight for speed. Efficiency is everything.”

I pushed off, trying to mimic his smooth stride. For a few minutes, I kept pace, but as the trail curved into rolling hills, my form faltered. My breath grew heavier, my coordination slipping. Ray noticed and slowed, matching my rhythm. “Just relax into it,” he said. “Find your tempo.”

Bit by bit, I did. The landscape transformed as we entered denser forest, the evergreens towering around us, their boughs heavy with fresh snow. The trail climbed, the incline growing steeper, and soon we reached the final challenge: a sharp ascent winding between thick pines.

“This is where it gets tough,” Ray said, unclipping his skis. He leaned them against the rack and opened his pack again. “We’re above two thousand feet now. The air’s getting thinner. Take slow, deep breaths and don’t rush. And let’s layer up again.”

I followed his lead, pulling on an extra fleece as the wind sharpened.

Each step became a deliberate effort, the altitude pressing down on my chest. Ray moved with instinctive efficiency, pausing at intervals to check on me.

“Keep your pace steady,” he advised. “If you push too hard now, you’ll burn out fast.”

I wanted to argue, to prove I could handle it, but he was right. I fell into his rhythm, mirroring his breathing, his careful pacing. As we climbed higher, the trees thinned, revealing sweeping views of the valley below. The sight was breathtaking—or maybe that was just the altitude.

When we reached a small plateau, Ray motioned for a break. We sipped water as we adjusted to the thinner air. “You’re doing great,” he said.

I glanced at him, recognizing how much I’d relied on his experience to get this far. “I get why you love this,” I admitted. “There’s something... different about moving through this kind of landscape. It demands patience.”

Ray smiled. “And trust.”

We continued the climb, side by side, step by step, until around the curve we saw the ski lift. In front of it was another clue box.

“It’s a driver switch,” I said, reading the clue. Up ahead, the lift carried skiers up from the base of the mountain then returned, usually empty. “The teammate who did not do the parasailing must now ski down the slalom course.”

Ray looked as happy as I’d ever seen him. He hurried off to get his skis and boots, and get fitted for his headset camera. Cody and I walked over to the ski lift to ride down to the finish line.

As I waited for the chair lift, with Cody in the background, Zara joined me. Her cameraman moved up next to Cody. The two of them appeared to be comparing notes while we all waited.

I was surprised that Zara and Maddox had caught up to us. “How did you guys get here so fast?” I asked. “Weren't you on the Madrid flight?”

“Lucky break,” Zara said, settling beside me as we waited. I studied her for a moment - she had that carefully curated influencer look with platinum blonde hair in beachy waves, oversized sunglasses pushed up on her head, and somehow managed to look put-together even after running through airports.

“Our flight landed thirty minutes early—tailwinds or something—and we managed to get the first taxi to the beach. I’ve done parasailing before so we zoomed through that challenge, and Maddox is a demon driver. He took those hills like they were nothing.”

“Very good.”

“And I went to boarding school in Switzerland, so I know all about mountains. I wish I’d been able to do the slalom. Maddox is more of a warm-weather guy.”

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Oh, we’re strictly platonic, though our followers are always shipping us,” she said. “We don’t make a big deal of it, but Maddox is ace.”

“Asexual?” I asked, just to be clear.

She nodded. “We met at a creator conference in Los Angeles two years ago and since then we’ve done a bunch of cross-promotional campaigns. We thought coming on the race would be good for both our brands, but it’s a lot harder than we expected.”

“For us it’s been the relationship stuff. I mean, we would love to win the million dollars, but being forced together so much is making us realize our real lives are more important.”

“Yeah, Maddox and I have been arguing about stuff, too,” she said. “What’s on brand for him isn’t always what’s on brand for me. I think after the race we’re going our own way for a while.” She smiled. “Of course, that would be a lot easier if we were splitting a million bucks.”

We climbed onto the chair lift and began riding down.

From above, it was easy to see how challenging the slalom course was, and Maddox was having real trouble.

Adrienne was behind him, and despite living in Colorado Springs, she was having a lot of trouble.

I saw her falling and skidding. Ray was far ahead of her, taking every curve smoothly and avoiding the moguls.

Then the lift curved away from the slope and I lost track of him, though I saw the male models and George and Ernie struggling with snowshoes.

As soon as we go to the end of the chair lift, I jumped off and raced over to the finish line. Up above, I saw Ray ducking his head and shoulders for the final race to the bottom. I was so excited I was jumping up and down.

Once he finished, we hugged and kissed, forgetting everything except how we’d conquered a series of challenges together. Then we rushed over to the clue box, which said, “Find Julie and Nordic ski champion Armand Honecker at the Stop’n’Go somewhere on the grounds.”

“I saw something from the chair lift,” I said. “I think it was the glare from a camera lens. It was over behind the sauna pavilion.”

“I trust your instincts,” he said. We took off, with Cody filming behind us, and we raced around several buildings until we saw the sauna building, and Julie and a handsome man standing by the mat.

We raced up to the platform, where Julie looked surprised to see us arrive. We couldn’t be last? I knew there were at least three teams behind us.

“Ray and Jeffrey,” she said, “you’re team number one!” We hugged each other tightly, both of us trembling with adrenaline and relief.

“And as winners of this leg,” Julie continued, “you’ve won a romantic five-night stay at a luxury resort in the South of France. You can use it after the race is over.”

Ray’s arm tightened around my waist. “What do you say, babe? Want to come back here?”

“Only if you promise to do the parasail next time,” I said.

“I’m on it,” he said, and high-fived me.

“How does it feel to be in first place?” Julie asked, shoving a microphone toward us.

“It’s all due to my amazing husband,” I said. “Did you see the way he killed that ski slope? Poetry in motion!”

“My husband’s pretty amazing, too,” Ray said. “He took to that parasailing like he was born to fly.”

“I’m glad to see you guys are getting along so well,” Julie said. “Do you think the race has brought you back together?”

“I’ve been a fan of the show for years,” I said. “I’ve seen couples crack apart under the pressure. And I’ve seen others have their bonds strengthened. I’m happy to say that we’re in the second category.”

“Well, you may be in that second category, but today you’ve finished this leg in first place. Get some rest. You’ve got a long day tomorrow.”