Caroline was far enough behind not to get caught up in the crash and asked, “You okay?” as she passed.

“Fuck yeah,” came the reply. If the rider had been injured Caroline would have flagged down one of the race officials at the next mile marker.

She made it through the turn followed by another series of left and right turns, all the while pedaling faster and faster. She had to get

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away from Shannon. She hadn’t been surprised when she pulled up beside her, but was absolutely stunned when Shannon started talking.

Did she really expect her to carry on a conversation while in the middle of a race? What did she imagine she’d say? That she loved her too?

Hell, up until a few days ago she didn’t even like her, let alone love her. She certainly wasn’t going to try to figure it out in the middle of the most important race in her career. Was it a ploy to make her lose concentration so she could have some advantage over her? Who knew, and frankly, Caroline told herself, she didn’t care. She couldn’t care, at least not right now. She had a race to win.

Her legs pushed and pulled against the pedals, the memory of the thousands of hours of training that led up to this point making them work. She released her grip on the handlebar, grabbed the tube of her CamelBak and stuck it between her teeth all in one smooth motion.

She took a couple of short sips making sure she didn’t choke on the cool liquid, giving her body the chance to absorb the much needed nutrients.

Passing a few riders struggling to climb the steep trail, Caroline’s lungs burned and her legs ached. But she wasn’t worried about it. She had planned her race in just this manner and so far, everything was going as planned. Downshifting into third gear, Caroline completed the ascent over sharp rocks and obstacles. The trail leveled off and she downshifted, increasing her speed and continuing to maintain control of her bike. She’d been riding for three hours and twenty-nine minutes and she knew she was near the end of the lap.

The road was rough. Her legs and arms acted like shock absorbers getting a complete and thorough workout. It was for this reason she pushed herself so hard in the gym, almost to the point of exhaustion.

At this critical point, she had the stamina and her muscles the strength to continue.

She had spent months with her trainer Carlos, lifting, sweating, and running, all the while hating him with one breath and thanking him with the next. The mental toughness was something no one could train her in except herself. Other riders meditated or hired therapists to help them achieve the mental toughness they needed. Caroline simply listened to her body.

Prior to each race, she memorized the course so that she knew

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exactly where every turn, dip, and obstacle was and planned her attack accordingly. When her hard work and training were in sync, she rode her best race. Sometimes she was not the winner or even second or third, but her time was respectable and most importantly she had read her body and the course perfectly. And that’s what she was striving for. The riders were on their own during the race. Other than medical services, they could not receive any help or assistance. Any repairs needed had to be completed by the rider only and no coaching was allowed. For the entire twenty-four hours it was a test of mental toughness. Mind over matter when your brain was screaming to your body to slow down, shut down, to stop. It was mental toughness and tenacity that would win this race. Caroline had it, and she knew it.

Night fell as Caroline pulled into her rest area. Based on her race plan, this was the time she had scheduled to take a break, rehydrate, and refuel. As she nibbled on an energy bar she snapped her light in the bracket on her handlebars and one on her helmet. The NiteRider would illuminate the ground in front of her for about twenty yards, giving her enough time to adjust her line as darkness closed in. Her night gear in place, Caroline lay on her back, elevating her legs. Her feet were swollen and her back hurt from the hours of constant beating. Her plan to rest and refuel for thirty minutes was scuttled by a familiar voice above her head.

“Caroline.” Shannon’s voice pleaded.

“Go away. I have nothing to say to you. Especially now.” Caroline hadn’t expected Shannon to follow her into her tent. The shadow from the small lantern made Shannon appear larger than she was. Shannon didn’t move.

“How else do I have to say it to you, Shannon? I don’t want you in my life. You are not good for me. You are not the kind of woman I need even if I wanted you. And I don’t. We hooked up again and it was like old times, but that’s all it was. A mutual thing. Now leave me alone.”

Caroline practically shouted in frustration. She was trying to win the biggest race of her career and she was having a lovers’ quarrel instead.

She grabbed her helmet and pulled her bike through the small opening and into the night.

“Fuck!” Caroline shouted into the darkness. She hadn’t had

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enough rest and when she hit the dirt after missing the turn she was tempted to lie there. Repeating the curse, she checked to make sure she wasn’t seriously injured and slowly got to her feet. Using the light on her helmet, she surveyed the condition of her bike. The only damage appeared to be a slight tear on the edge of her seat and she remounted intending on finishing the lap.

How could she be so careless? She was thinking about Shannon and not paying attention to the road in front of her and look what it got her—a fresh batch of road rash on her leg, dirt down the front of her shirt, and thoroughly pissed off.

Lap after lap she rode, one hour melting into the other until finally, the sun began to creep over the horizon. She hadn’t seen Shannon all night and had no idea if she was ahead of her in the lap count or not. At noon, the current standings would be posted and Caroline knew that’s when the race really began.

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ChaPTER TwENTy-Two

Shannon was exhausted. Her legs felt like rubber, her eyes burned, there was a painful cramp in her right hand, and she had lost feeling in her ass hours ago. Forty minutes remained in the race and she was behind Caroline by half a lap. It wasn’t an insurmountable lead, under any other circumstance, but this was anything but. She didn’t think she had it in her to chase after Caroline, let alone catch her.

She was physically drained and mentally numb. She was pedaling by rote, braking more often now than in the first forty minutes of the race.

Her lips were chapped, dried blood snaked a path in the mud caked from knee to sock, and the gash at her elbow dripped blood onto her thigh. She was a mess and it was only by sheer guts that she was able to stay in the saddle.

She hadn’t seen Caroline since just after two this morning and had stopped looking for her long before that. Caroline had made it painfully clear that she wanted nothing to do with her, and as much as it hurt, Shannon let her go. She wasn’t going to chase after someone who didn’t want to be caught. She had said her peace. The rest was up to Caroline.

v

Don’t fall, don’t trip, don’t stumble, the cadence in Caroline’s head echoed with each step. Her head was spinning, her heart racing in direct competition with the shaking of her legs as she climbed to the

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top of the winner’s platform. The crowd chanted her name as she finally arrived at her destination.

This was more than about winning, much, much more. It was the achievement of everything she had worked a lifetime for. Millions of beads of sweat, thousands of hours of practice, and untold sacrifices to get to this point. She was the best in the world. She had proven it. To herself, her critics, and her adversaries.

She was finally here. She should be euphoric, ecstatic, on top of the world. It should be the happiest day of her life. But all she felt was empty. Hundreds of people surrounded her, but she was alone, totally alone when it really mattered.

She scanned the crowd searching for the only person that mattered.

She recognized many familiar faces, but none contained the crystal clear eyes that she desperately wanted to see. Sometime during the last hours of the race, when her body was exhausted, her mind unable to fight the fatigue, her heart had taken over.

She loved Shannon. It was that simple. It was so simple she couldn’t even see it until her cluttered mind was empty. She heard Shannon’s words in her head and very easily could repeat them word for word. She had been in love with Shannon in high school but had attributed it to a rite of passage everyone went through at that age.

And as she had always thought, that love was supposed to be intense, fleeting, and as a result, painful. It had been all three but also all wrong.

Her feelings for Shannon had been intense and painful, but Caroline realized they were not fleeting.

The way they had avoided each other for years, never sharing more than a few words when their two different racing tours coincided kept her feelings for Shannon buried. But they were just below the surface all along, and after that night, that wonderful night, could never be buried again. Her name was called and Caroline stepped forward.

After the pomp and circumstance of the awards ceremony, the interviews and countless pictures, Caroline was finally alone in her hotel room. Her medal hung heavy around her neck and it clunked loudly as she dropped it on the oak table. She grabbed a bottle of cold water from the minibar and kicked off her shoes. There was a knock on the door when the lid on the bottle cracked open. Her heart jumped and the first name that came to mind was Shannon. Having finished fourth,