Author's Note: Happy new year everyone! And sorry for the delayed posting; this was due for Jan 1st, and it's 16 minutes into the 2nd now. But I don't think anyone will mind a little delay. I'll try to make sure that tomorrow's stories are ready on schedule!
I waved my ticket at one of the race officials as they came around. A huge guy with a shaved head handed me a number to stick on the back of my shirt, and a tag with the same number on that I could attach to my shoes. Then they went into the big sack he was carrying, to be taken down to a trolley by the finish line where somebody would help me find them again. It wasn't the most efficient system in the world, but in the circumstances there wasn't much else they could have done. Then I was more nervous than ever, as I waited for someone to tell us it was time to go.
We were lined up in groups, standing on chalk lines on the ground. It was a little crowded, but not as much as it had been. For skating, after all, we needed to have enough space not to crash into each other as soon as we started moving. That was why I wouldn't be able to move right away when I heard someone yell "Go!". I'd had the speech already; and knew that I would be allowed to move as soon as everyone in the previous group had crossed their starting line. I was in the fifth group this year, as a benefit of registering early. And the distance between us would be balanced by awarding ties to the person with the higher number. I didn't think I was likely to be in a position where it mattered; it was just one more thing not to think about.
I didn't think about much if I was getting ready to race. When I was getting ready for a hockey match, I had to make sure my teammates were okay, and nobody needed any help or reassurances. That was the part I had to do, even if it had never come naturally to me, because I valued my friends. But in a race when it was just me against the world, there was nothing on my mind but the upcoming thrill of speed. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, impatient to get going. But the world turning into a blur around me was the closest thing to heaven I could imagine. And it wouldn't be long before–
"Is everyone ready?" an amplified voice called, with a loud buzz helping him to drown out the rest of our conversation. I guessed the audio system still had some bugs to work out, but it didn't stop us understanding. A little time passed, and then the same voice continued: "Then make sure you are on your marks. Remember, for the descent, you may not move until everyone on the line in front has crossed it. We will disqualify anyone who cannot follow the safety rules. Is there anyone who needs another explanation?" Everybody shook their heads, and mumbled variations on the theme of 'no'. And then the tension was rapidly building up. I found myself crouching low to the ground, one foot slightly turned to give me the biggest boost at the start.
"Group zero..." the announcer called again, and the last few seconds of hesitation felt like an eternity. "Go!"
There was cheering from the crowd, but I couldn't see any immediate movement. I bunched my muscles, ready to launch myself down the track like a coiled spring. And then the people in the row in front were kicking off against the ground, twitching to hurl themselves forward. And as soon as I could see the whole of the line, I reacted without taking any time to think.
The ground whirled past. I was watching the guy who had been slowest to react, three feet in front of me. He was the first to fall back as well, opening up a gap in the pack that I could dart into. The asphalt under my feet gave way to concrete. I knew the path was stamped with a stone-effect texture, but it was already turning into a blur as I crossed the line. Then we were heading to the first bend. I canoned closer to the fence and reached out for the last post. My feet went wide, my lower legs almost horizontal as I spun a hundred and eighty degrees while barely losing speed. The ground was only inches from my knee pads, and there was nothing on my mind but the speed, and the finish line coming closer.
I weaved around the other racers, and didn't pay so much attention to who they were, or how they were doing. The only thing that mattered was my own performance. When you go that fast, it's intoxicating. All the complexities of normal life fade away, and there's nothing but you and the road. I wasn't aware of thinking at all. I was running on instinct now; I knew where I needed to get the best speed on each turn, and I put myself there. I might have lost a little speed when I reversed direction, but it was impossible to ignore that we were going downhill, and gravity was doing its best to give me a record speed.
I never got to go so fast anywhere else. There were hills at home, but none so steep, or so long. I was pushing forward with all my strength, but I could only add a little onto what the cliff descent gave me for free. If I could avoid losing speed on the bends, that was the best that I could do. And then the finish line was ahead, where the concrete under my wheels turned into a boardwalk of old timber. I could feel the vibrations rushing up my legs change, and there were only seconds of the race left. As we levelled off I could see there were six people ahead of me, and the tape stretched across the finish line was still intact.
I pushed harder than ever, my legs protesting against the punishment. I rushed past one skater as they didn't quite manage to hold onto their speed through the last turn. And then it was a test of endurance, who still had the strength to race for the finish after that long descent. I swung in behind a big guy, letting him shield me from the headwind for a second, and then ducked slightly to the right as he faltered. I kicked hard at the ground, trying to get every last bit of speed out of my skates. I didn't pay attention to the other racers then, and just focused on where I needed to be: the centre of the finish line, right ahead of me. I couldn't add any more speed, the ground was rushing by too fast. I could only duck down again to minimise my air resistance, and try to keep my balance.
Two seconds. Three. And that was the finish line. There were spectators cheering, and I didn't even know where I had placed. I didn't care; the speed was all I needed to feel. I shot forward, and then skidded to a halt, topping off the end of the boardwalk and collapsing in the fine sand on the dunes. I half buried myself as the last of my speed was eaten up by the resistance, and the hot sand cascaded down over my shoulders like a hot shower. I stared at the clouds above me, threw back my head and laughed. That was the most fun I'd had in a whole year. Even in team sports, there was nothing like that kind of adrenaline rush.
* * *
The medics wanted to check me over. Of course they did; I hadn't stopped where I was supposed to at the end of the course. I told them that I'd been enjoying the speed and didn't want it to end, and they said I was careless. But I knew that; I just wanted a second or two without any responsibilities. And they quickly concluded that I hadn't been hurt at all. I sat on a blanket on the sand while a cute doctor checked my pulse and stared into my eyes with one of those little light things. He had vivid green eyes, such a rich colour that it was hard to believe it was real. After a little while, somebody brought me my shoes. That was good, because I was far enough off the boardwalk that it would have been difficult to make progress in my skates. I'd found out before now that on fine sand like this, blades were quite good at sinking into the surface and getting stuck.
I idly wondered if the extra assistance was because they thought I might be hurt, or because they thought I might be crazy. I didn't care. I did care a little when I glanced down as saw that my shorts were slipping a little. Anyone would have been able to see the top half-inch of my diaper, and maybe they would have thought it weird, if they were able to recognise the print from that narrow sliver. But I barely worried about it, knowing that there wasn't enough detail there to give a positive identification. And also, of course, that anybody who knew the pattern would presumably know someone who had worn them in the past, and would know how much I wanted to be discreet. I pulled my shorts up again as I stood up, a perfectly normal gesture, and thought no more about it.
Somebody was quickly there to take my skates out of my hands, and someone else to lead me forward. That was why they wanted to make sure I was okay; and why they were so impatient for me to get my shoes back on so I could walk normally. I was heading for the podium.
A local celebrity I didn't really know shook my hand, and held out a microphone to ask if I'd travelled far, and if racing was my life. I joked that there were no races as fast as this one near me, but I thought that inline hockey was great training for it. There were a few more questions as well, just small talk stuff, and then they gave me my medal. Silver; a tie for second place.
After all that, I headed back up the same path that had been a racetrack just a few minutes before. The ascent probably took fifteen minutes, rather than two, and left me out of breath by the time I returned to the parking area at the top. And then I realised that I still had other events to sign up for. I'd almost forgotten about everything else; and I had no idea what Lindy had been doing. I guessed that was one of the tough parts about planning today: If I'd booked events in advance, I would have expected to be on the start line for something else by now. The awards at the end had taken much more time than the race itself; possibly even including the time waiting to check in at the start.
"Sally!" I heard Mum's voice, probably the third time she called. I quickly turned and ran over to her, giving her a big hug. "You did it!"
"You saw?"
"They've got screens," she said, pointing to a TV mounted on the side of one of the stalls. There were half a dozen of them around, showing the awards being given after different events, interleaved with lists of what was coming up, and what events still had places available. I'd glanced at them before, but I was only now realising that anybody who knew me would have had a chance of seeing my medal. Some of our neighbours on the next beach over were bound to come congratulate me later in the day.
"Wow. It's like being famous. I'm sure they didn't do that before?"
"Last couple of years, I think. But we missed the sports day last year. So... want to come and watch Lindy? I just saw her hurrying to registration for shooting, of all things. Or have you got something else booked?"
"I haven't... Wait, there's shooting?"
"Air rifles, I think. Want to give it a try?"
"Might be fun," I said with a shrug. "Two more events, and it would be good to face Lindy in something. Even if I've never tried it before. Has she?"
"I don't think so. But she used to be pretty good with a bow and arrow. Even the horseshoes, if I remember correctly. Maybe she thought she'd pick it up."
"Well, if she's going to give it a try..." I said with a shrug. Mum took my skates from me again, and led the way over to the right stall. The euphoria of the first race was still lingering, and yet I was already feeling my excitement build for the next event. I was really glad that I could take part this year, and glad for every moment I could spend with my family.