Read Online False Start by Barbara Valentin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Valentin
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jiggling. But, it was no use. Each time her foot hit the track, every cell in her body seemed to shout, "Jell-O City!"
Her pride abandoned her.
By the time she rounded the first corner, her lungs felt like they were about to burst into flames. She wondered if Nick knew CPR and began praying that she didn't have to find out.
Shuffling into the second turn, she felt blisters erupting on the back of both ankles as her damp feet rubbed against their wet canvas confines. Determined not to let him get the upper hand, she kept chugging along, panting hard.
When she heard him yell, "Pick it up, Ross," she started chanting to herself, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."
After what seemed like an eternity, she steered herself through the third corner. By this time, her thighs felt as heavy as cement blocks. An old couple, walking slowly enough to hold hands, passed by on her right, looking concerned.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Her right side, just below her rib cage, felt as if she'd been stabbed with a thousand knives. Her parched mouth seemed to be coated with glue.
Kill me. Kill me now.
"Almost done," she heard him shout. That's when she heard a different voice, a friendlier voice, say, "Don't give up now. You can do it."
Mattie looked around, but didn't see anyone close by.
I'm hallucinating.
She pushed up the sleeves on her sweatshirt and ran a hand across her eyes. The salt in her sweat caused them to sting. Her mascara clumped, making her eyelashes stick together. Her ponytail felt like it had a large rock tied to the end of it.
If I could just stop to catch my breath.
Then she saw him.
Nick had moved from the center of the track to her lane and stood several yards in front of her. He had tucked his clipboard under his arm. In one hand, he was holding his stopwatch and was waving her toward him with the other.
"Come on, Mattie. Let's go."
Was he a mirage? She gave her head a shake and decided to aim for him, wishing she had the power to run right over him and keep going, all the way home to a nice cool shower.
When she finally finished, she barely had enough force in her to knock him off step, let alone keep going.
Nick caught her by the arm, clicked his stopwatch, and announced just loud enough for her to hear, "4:13."
In response, Mattie bent over, grabbed her knees, and threw up on lane one.
I'm never eating Pop Tarts again.
After a minute, she felt a hand on her back and saw a paper towel come into view.
"Here. Clean yourself up."
Mattie watched as he waved over a janitor to clean up the mess before he ushered her back to the center of the track.
It was clear to her that his brand of torture had elicited this type of response before.
"You ok?" he asked.
Making a face that told him she wasn't, he pointed to the water fountain near the entrance. "Go rinse your mouth out and splash some water on your face. You'll be fine."
He spoke with all the compassion of an IRS agent conducting an audit.
Still, Mattie did as she was told. On her way back to Nick, a jolt of pride began to work its way up from her blistered heels. By the time she reached him, she was fighting back the urge to squeal, "I did it."
Instead, she asked, "What now? Are you going to hang me by my thumbs for a couple of hours?"
Nick smirked at her. "No, upper body workouts come later. Thought I'd give you something to look forward to." Nodding toward the track, he added, "Three more of those and you have a mile. Twenty-six point two of those and you have yourself a marathon."
""Don't remind me," Mattie muttered under her so-not-minty breath.
Nick lifted his hat off, ran a hand through his wavy hair, and looked at her.
"Listen, Mattie. I'm not gonna lie to you. Training for a marathon takes hard work, discipline, and guts."
Mattie grimaced. "Bad choice of words."
He stood staring at her with a pained expression on his face. After a minute, he nodded towards the entrance. "How about we go grab some
Her pride abandoned her.
By the time she rounded the first corner, her lungs felt like they were about to burst into flames. She wondered if Nick knew CPR and began praying that she didn't have to find out.
Shuffling into the second turn, she felt blisters erupting on the back of both ankles as her damp feet rubbed against their wet canvas confines. Determined not to let him get the upper hand, she kept chugging along, panting hard.
When she heard him yell, "Pick it up, Ross," she started chanting to herself, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."
After what seemed like an eternity, she steered herself through the third corner. By this time, her thighs felt as heavy as cement blocks. An old couple, walking slowly enough to hold hands, passed by on her right, looking concerned.
She wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Her right side, just below her rib cage, felt as if she'd been stabbed with a thousand knives. Her parched mouth seemed to be coated with glue.
Kill me. Kill me now.
"Almost done," she heard him shout. That's when she heard a different voice, a friendlier voice, say, "Don't give up now. You can do it."
Mattie looked around, but didn't see anyone close by.
I'm hallucinating.
She pushed up the sleeves on her sweatshirt and ran a hand across her eyes. The salt in her sweat caused them to sting. Her mascara clumped, making her eyelashes stick together. Her ponytail felt like it had a large rock tied to the end of it.
If I could just stop to catch my breath.
Then she saw him.
Nick had moved from the center of the track to her lane and stood several yards in front of her. He had tucked his clipboard under his arm. In one hand, he was holding his stopwatch and was waving her toward him with the other.
"Come on, Mattie. Let's go."
Was he a mirage? She gave her head a shake and decided to aim for him, wishing she had the power to run right over him and keep going, all the way home to a nice cool shower.
When she finally finished, she barely had enough force in her to knock him off step, let alone keep going.
Nick caught her by the arm, clicked his stopwatch, and announced just loud enough for her to hear, "4:13."
In response, Mattie bent over, grabbed her knees, and threw up on lane one.
I'm never eating Pop Tarts again.
After a minute, she felt a hand on her back and saw a paper towel come into view.
"Here. Clean yourself up."
Mattie watched as he waved over a janitor to clean up the mess before he ushered her back to the center of the track.
It was clear to her that his brand of torture had elicited this type of response before.
"You ok?" he asked.
Making a face that told him she wasn't, he pointed to the water fountain near the entrance. "Go rinse your mouth out and splash some water on your face. You'll be fine."
He spoke with all the compassion of an IRS agent conducting an audit.
Still, Mattie did as she was told. On her way back to Nick, a jolt of pride began to work its way up from her blistered heels. By the time she reached him, she was fighting back the urge to squeal, "I did it."
Instead, she asked, "What now? Are you going to hang me by my thumbs for a couple of hours?"
Nick smirked at her. "No, upper body workouts come later. Thought I'd give you something to look forward to." Nodding toward the track, he added, "Three more of those and you have a mile. Twenty-six point two of those and you have yourself a marathon."
""Don't remind me," Mattie muttered under her so-not-minty breath.
Nick lifted his hat off, ran a hand through his wavy hair, and looked at her.
"Listen, Mattie. I'm not gonna lie to you. Training for a marathon takes hard work, discipline, and guts."
Mattie grimaced. "Bad choice of words."
He stood staring at her with a pained expression on his face. After a minute, he nodded towards the entrance. "How about we go grab some
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