Page 46 of The Big Race
The Finish Line
W e all assembled in the hotel lobby the next day at three, ready for our last official participation in The Big Race, though we had been reminded that we would most likely have to be available for interviews for our hometown TV station.
“I already feel the adrenaline,” Ray whispered, his arm resting comfortably around my shoulders.
The physical affection still felt new, like we were rediscovering how to touch each other.
We’d watched so many seasons of the finale that we knew what to expect, but this time the finish line had a lot more meaning to us, because we knew what those teams had done to make it that far. I imagined it would be devastating for the teams that came in second and third.
Ernie and George stood nearby, munching on the complimentary snacks. “Twenty bucks says the military couple takes it,” George said, offering his hand to me.
I grinned. “I’ll take that bet. I’ve got a feeling about the influencers.”
“The influencers?” Ray asked. “They’ve been middle of the pack the whole race.”
“So were we,” I reminded him. “Until we weren’t.”
Below us, Julie called us all together. “The final challenge will test everything the final three teams have learned throughout this journey around the world,” she announced. “Not just their physical abilities, but their cultural awareness and attention to detail.”
She pointed to a large display outside, along the waterfront.
“Each team must correctly match twenty-five global products to their country of origin, then arrange them in the exact order of the race route,” she explained.
“The first team to complete the challenge correctly will race to the final finish line at Marina Bay Sands.”
“The buses are outside to take you all there, where you’ll line up at the Finish Line to cheer on the winning team. And of course the other two teams as well.”
I let out a low whistle. “This is going to be interesting.”
“What do you mean?” Ray asked.
“Think about it. The military couple and the models have been focusing on the physical challenges. But who’s been documenting every step of the journey, obsessing over the cultural details, and literally works with international brands for a living?”
Ray’s eyes widened with understanding. “The influencers.”
The afternoon air at Stanley Park was crisp and invigorating, carrying the mingled scents of saltwater and evergreens.
We’d been positioned along the famous Seawall at Brockton Point for over an hour, our colored T-shirts forming a vibrant human corridor on either side of the finish line.
The nine eliminated teams stood in order of our departure from the race, creating a gauntlet that the final three teams would run through to reach Julie at the center.
Production assistants had arranged us meticulously, checking camera angles and making sure the iconic totem poles and Vancouver skyline would frame the shot perfectly.
The Lions Gate Bridge stretched majestically across the harbor in the background, its suspension cables gleaming in the afternoon sun.
“How much longer, do you think?” Ray whispered, bouncing slightly on his toes. The excitement was contagious, even though we weren’t the ones racing anymore.
Beside us, George and Ernie were placing last-minute bets on the winners.
The professors had brought binoculars and were taking turns watching the path.
Desiree and Cherisse wore matching bedazzled baseball caps that sparkled in the sunlight, while Keisha and Lamar chatted with Anika and Raj, and Jenny and Carlos maintained a careful distance from each other, despite wearing T-shirts in their team colors.
“I see movement!” Walter called out, adjusting his binoculars. “Someone’s coming around the bend!”
A ripple of anticipation moved through our line. The cameramen positioned themselves strategically, ready to capture the emotional finish. Julie straightened her posture at the center of our formation, her TV-perfect smile firmly in place.
“It’s the army couple,” someone called out. “No, wait?—”
And then I saw them. Not the military couple with their regimented strides, not the male models with their camera-ready poses, but the influencers—Zara and Maddox, running full-tilt along the Seawall, their faces transformed by the purest joy I’d seen in the entire race.
“It’s Zara and Maddox!” The cry went up, and suddenly we were all cheering, our previous team loyalties forgotten in the collective excitement of witnessing the finish.
They spotted us and somehow found another gear, sprinting the final stretch with everything they had. Zara’s long hair streamed behind her like a banner, and Maddox pumped his fists in the air as they realized they were about to win it all.
Ray grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight as we cheered. “They did it,” he shouted over the noise. “They actually did it!”
As Zara and Maddox entered our gauntlet, the roar became deafening. High-fives were exchanged in a blur as they raced between our lines. Even Walter and Vivian were jumping up and down like college students at a pep rally.
I caught a glimpse of Zara’s face as she passed—tears streaming freely, her expression a mixture of disbelief and triumph.
Maddox was right beside her, matching her stride for stride, their colored shirts—vivid navy blue that had seemed so out of place on day one—now looking like the perfect winner’s hue against the water of the harbor, the sky and the trees.
In those final steps to the finish line, I saw something in them that echoed what Ray and I had discovered throughout our own journey: the strength that comes from true partnership, from learning to combine your different abilities into something greater than either of you could achieve alone.
As they crossed the finish line, collapsing into each other’s arms before Julie, the eliminated teams broke formation and rushed forward, surrounding the winners in a spontaneous group celebration. Confetti cannons fired, sending a shower of colored paper into the air that danced on the sea breeze.
“Zara and Maddox,” Julie announced over the cheering, “you are the official winners of The Big Race!”
The check was brought out—an enormous million-dollar display card that took two production assistants to carry and then hand over.
Zara couldn’t even hold her side properly because she was sobbing so hard, her makeup running in streaks down her face.
Maddox kept saying “Oh my god, oh my god,” over and over, as if his influencer vocabulary had deserted him in the moment of his greatest content creation opportunity.
Through the chaos, I saw the other finalists arrive—Fletcher and Adrienne in second place, their faces tight with disappointment as they jogged to the finish line, followed shortly by Alex and Ross, who managed to look photogenic even in defeat.
There were hugs and congratulations all around, though I noticed Adrienne could barely bring herself to embrace Zara.
Ray leaned close to my ear. “Guess they finally found something Instagram-worthy,” he joked, but his smile was genuine as he watched the winners being interviewed amidst the continued celebration.
Suddenly, George appeared beside us, wrapping one massive arm around each of our shoulders. “Called it!” he exclaimed. “Jeffrey had them pegged!”
“Their strengths weren’t obvious at first,” I said, watching as Zara and Maddox posed for photos with the check and trophy. “But they knew how to read the situation, adapt quickly, and work together when it mattered most.”
“Sounds like some other team I know,” Ernie said, joining our huddle.
Ray laughed. “Maybe in our younger days. These kids earned it, though.”
As the production crew began directing us for group photos, I took one more look at the stunning backdrop—the snow-capped mountains rising beyond the city skyline, the deep blue waters of the harbor, the historic totem poles standing sentinel over our celebration.
It was hard to imagine a more perfect setting for the conclusion of our journey.
“Hey,” Ray said softly, his hand finding mine again as we prepared to join the group shot. “Win or lose, I’m glad we did this.”
I squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar calluses, the strength in his fingers, the wedding band that had nearly slipped away from us both. “Me too. Best race of my life.”
Together, we joined the circle forming around Zara and Maddox, our colored shirts creating a rainbow against the spectacular Vancouver backdrop—nine teams who had fallen short of the prize but who had, in ways large and small, found victory in the journey itself.
Later, at the wrap party, I found myself standing next to Adrienne at the bar. She’d changed out of her race clothes into a sleek cocktail dress, but the tension in her shoulders remained.
“Tough break,” I said, not unkindly. “You guys were front runners almost the whole race.”
She sighed heavily. “Never saw it coming. Who would have thought all those hours they spent on social media would be useful?”
“Different strengths for different challenges,” I offered. “That’s what makes the race interesting.”
Adrienne studied me for a moment. “You know, when we first met you and Ray, we didn’t think you’d make it past the first few legs.”
“Because we were the ‘older gay couple’?” I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice.
She had the grace to look embarrassed. “Something like that. But you proved us wrong. You guys had something special out there.”
“Twenty-five years of practice,” I said, echoing what Ray had said.
Across the room, Ray was laughing with Zara and Maddox, probably congratulating them on their win. He caught my eye and smiled, that private smile that still made my heart skip after all these years.
Adrienne followed my gaze. “For what it’s worth, Fletcher and I are still working on our communication. Watching you and Ray figure things out during the race... it was kind of inspiring.”
I was genuinely surprised. “Really?”
“Really. We’ve got the physical stuff down, but the emotional stuff...” She shook her head. “That’s the real challenge, isn’t it?”
I thought about everything Ray and I had been through—before, during, and after the race. The betrayal, the healing, the hard conversations we were still having.
“That’s the race that never ends,” I told her. “But it’s worth running.”
As the party continued around us, Ray made his way to my side, slipping his arm around my waist. “Ready to head out?” he asked. “Our flight home is early tomorrow.”
Home. The word carried so much more weight now than when we’d left for the race. Not just a place, but a relationship we were actively rebuilding, day by day.
“I’m ready,” I said, and meant it in every possible way.
We might not have won the million dollars, but as we rose up in the elevator, Ray’s hand firmly in mine, I knew we’d gained something far more valuable: a second chance at the greatest adventure of all—a life together.
And this time, we both intended to finish strong.