Page 42 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Jamie

The London Marathon

J amie felt a strange sense of excitement and trepidation on the morning of the marathon.

The feeling was almost alien to him after a week spent in the depths of despair.

Still, the excitement bubbled. It was a similar feeling to the one he used to get before a big audition, like one day could change everything.

He wasn’t quite sure why. Nothing was really riding on this anymore. If he dropped out today, he’d have to answer to Reg, and probably his running crew, but they’d all get over it…eventually.

Still, he would not back out.

Regardless of how he’d felt earlier in the week, Reg was right. Jamie needed to see this through.

He rolled out of bed and picked out his race-day outfit. A cherry red technical shirt and tight black leggings paired with rainbow running socks he’d bought last week after being served a particularly well-tailored ad on Instagram.

If nothing else, he knew he looked good.

It took him multiple tries to pin the race number evenly to the front of his shirt. It was a miracle he’d even managed to dig out enough pins from his neglected show bag to do it.

The tube was a nightmare on a good day, but on marathon day, it was packed.

Jamie felt lucky to have got on at Mile End because at least he had a seat, though he could have done without some already sweaty stranger’s Lycra-covered twig and berries veering towards his head at every lean of the train.

It was a hot day, and Jamie was starting to wonder if the leggings had been a mistake.

As expected, everyone piled off at the same spot and made their way towards the corrals.

Jamie would be forever grateful to Reg for telling him to double-check his start line location.

There were so many people running the London Marathon these days that they had to split it up into three different starting groups.

He spotted a few people with red or green bibs helplessly wandering around the blue area he’d been assigned.

It did not look like a fun time. Moderately pleased with himself for the forethought, not typically his forte, he took the chance to look around a bit and take in the atmosphere.

It was a lot.

There was an absolute sea of runners before him in various states of dress.

He did a double-take when he saw someone in a blow-up chicken suit, but they were shortly followed by a Spartan warrior, several groups in tutus, and, shockingly, more than one person wearing Crocs, which was not only a crime against fashion but surely a crime against running.

He’d be damned if he let them finish before him.

The air crackled with electricity. You could almost taste the anticipation.

It was obvious that a lot of people were first-timers like Jamie, but he could also see the elite runners already lining up in front of everyone, ready for the starting gun.

His heart gave an involuntary lurch as the sight made him think of Darius.

Jamie nervously eyed the corrals. His training had gone well.

He knew everyone was expecting him in the 3:30 group, but Darius was pacing, at least he assumed he still was, and Jamie wasn’t sure if he could face him just yet.

He wanted to see him when he’d achieved something, when he’d finished the marathon and could feel like he had earned something the hard way.

Whether to win him back or throw it in his face, Jamie honestly wasn’t sure.

As much as he wanted Darius back in his life, the more he thought about it, the angrier he was at him for not giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Jamie still didn’t understand what could have possibly been so bad that night that he couldn’t even give him a chance to explain.

He’d barely even blinked when Jamie had confessed his feelings… or shouted them, rather.

As the start time got closer, Jamie tied and re-tied his shoelaces four times before being overcome with a desperate need to empty his bladder.

There was still time for a quick stop at the Portaloos.

He had been ridiculously early for once in his life.

He followed the signs indicating toilets around in what felt like a complete circle, only to come face to face with the most absurd queue he had seen in his entire life.

“Is this for the loos?” he asked a woman running through some light stretches.

“Yes,” she laughed, “but the end of the queue’s all the way back there.” She pointed off into the distance. Apparently, Jamie was going to be getting his steps in before the race even started.

He was very tempted to just piss at the side of the road, but that felt disrespectful to the other runners, though he spotted a few guys doing just that. Jamie bounced up and down, the morning chill just making him more desperate.

Fortunately, the queue moved faster than expected, and he was ready to get in the corral with just five minutes to spare before the gun. Of course, now the area was crowded with people bouncing up and down on the balls of their feet, stretching and fiddling with watches and headphones.

He didn’t see anyone he recognised. He kept his eyes peeled, though, searching for Claire’s vibrant hair in the crowd.

He’d skipped the morning meet-up, unsure if he could face questions about Darius.

Now, though, as he watched the groups warming up together at the start, he was beginning to regret not having friendly faces around him.

That was what he did lately, though, regret things.

Speaking of regrets, there sure seemed to be a lot of people with normal headphones in, considering he was sure the race packet said they weren’t allowed.

He had read through it about fifteen times before giving in and buying bone-conducting headphones.

They were sort of weird, but he didn’t think he’d make it running for four hours with no music.

They had been ridiculously expensive as well, and as he was now discovering, they wouldn’t bloody connect to his phone.

The hours he had spent perfecting his marathon playlist were looking like they’d go completely to waste.

He called it a lost cause and shoved them into his running belt, dreading the idea of four hours with no music to distract him from his inner monologue. That was the last thing he needed with all the shite in his life lately.

Looking up, a familiar face caught the corner of his eye. Jamie blinked rapidly, willing it to be a mirage. Of everyone he’d expected to see today, he was the last. Jamie froze, uncertainty, embarrassment, and horror welling up within him.

Stephen was here. It was like he was infiltrating every part of Jamie’s life, existing to dig the knife in further of everything Jamie had lost.

Seeing him here, in the bright morning sun, threw Jamie off.

It was harder to imagine him as the slimy git he’d proven himself to be as he stood laughing with a mate in his sports kit, all normal like.

He looked like Jamie’s Stephen again, the one he’d thought he’d known.

Stephen, who he’d thought he’d fallen for.

Jamie knew it was a trick, though. This was the man who, after months together on tour last year, had laughed in his face when he’d told him how he felt and thrown him away once word got around.

The man who had propositioned him again just days ago, and threatened to ruin him when he refused— to take away his livelihood like it meant nothing.

Seeing him here now, after everything that had happened, Jamie could recognise that he had never loved Stephen.

Certainly not the way he loved Darius. He’d thought he had, though, at the time.

He’d been swept up in the excitement of the tour, the biggest role he’d ever landed, and the attention of a man with so much power.

But he’d been so na?ve, so trusting, and what had that got him?

A cancelled contract and a broken heart.

The sound of the gun and cheers from the crowd startled Jamie back to reality.

He quickly shoved his phone into his running belt alongside the useless headphones as the group shuffled forward.

He’d somehow managed to completely miss the 3:30 pacer flags and had no idea what group he was running alongside now, but he needed to run hard enough to get the hell away from Stephen, who seemed far too close for comfort.

Jamie sprinted.

He knew it was a bad choice. Between Reg and Darius, he’d been told more than enough times to start slow and aim for a negative split by speeding up in the second half of the race. But, fuck it, he had to get away.

Jamie’s body rebelled against the faster pace quickly.

Fortunately, by the time it did, the three start lines had converged, and once they passed the Cutty Sark, the street was so crowded there was virtually no chance of Stephen spotting him.

Jamie let himself slow down, just a little.

His legs were screaming in pain, everything hurt, and his nipples were chafing against his shirt.

He could do this, though. He’d trained well. Sure, the start wasn’t ideal, but he’d push through.

Less than a mile later, he was regretting everything. Who was he kidding? He absolutely could not do this. He wanted to stop, he’d just… make it to the next aid station and then leave the course.

Whose stupid idea had it been to run a marathon, anyway?

His thoughts were spiralling as he continued to run.

Jamie wasn’t a marathon-type. He didn’t have the strength of character, or whatever.

Darius had been right to get away from him.

Jamie hadn’t even been able to handle the bit of bad press he’d had that week.

What would he have done if all this had come out during the Olympics, with even more eyes on Darius?

Fallen apart, that’s what.

Made everything about himself, because that’s what he always did.

As Jamie crossed over Tower Bridge, he struggled to keep his legs moving.

They were only halfway. He grabbed a full-fat Coke from the aid station and slowed to a walk as he sipped it.

Once he had caught his breath a bit, Jamie took the chance to look around.

The atmosphere was amazing, and his spirits lifted—ever so slightly—as he walked.

Crowds lined the sides of the streets watching the runners pass.

Some of the homemade signs people held out managed to drag a laugh out of him.

One sign was Super Mario-themed and said, ‘Tap here to power up!’ he gave it a try, but it didn’t have the effect he’d hoped for.

A lot of the signs seemed to mention free bananas, which he didn’t get—maybe it was some kind of running joke? And there was one that almost made him giggle, ‘Worst parade ever,’ scrawled across it.

His favourite, though, was a bright coloured sign stating, ‘Don’t worry, nobody likes a quick finisher.’

He laughed, but it got caught in his throat. He just had to keep moving forward.

He saw Chi pass by, looking completely at ease as they glanced Jamie’s way to confirm he was alright. Jamie nodded in assent and picked his pace up to a jog again. A grin broke out on Chi’s face that buoyed Jamie further. It was difficult to feel down around Chi.

Jamie couldn’t keep up his speed from before, though, and he soon waved Chi on for what he was sure was going to be a great race.

He lobbed along slowly, feeling like he was hanging on for dear life as more and more people in absurd fancy dress passed him. He was pretty sure he’d just seen someone go by juggling a football. He couldn’t possibly be doing the whole marathon like that, right?

As a runner dressed as the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland ran past, Jamie tried to speed up a bit more.

He wanted to prove to himself that he could do this, and he couldn’t tolerate being slower than someone in oversized bunny slippers.

It felt like everyone was doing better than him, though.

All the surrounding runners looked calm and collected, while he was feeling both emotionally and physically exhausted.

It was too much.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

Jamie’s knee protested almost as much as his brain against the relentless run.

He needed to stop.