“You sure?” Michael asked warily, jogging on her other side.

Preslee glanced at him. “Absolutely. Go already.”

Michael shrugged. “If you say so,” he replied with a grin, taking off at a dead run in the direction of the finish line.

Hesitating, Adam glanced at her one last time. Only after she smiled and nodded did he finally take off after his brother. Adam shot off like a rocket, and within moments, she couldn’t even see them anymore.

Oh well. They were better off. And so was she. At least now she wouldn’t have to kill herself to keep up with them.

Not that she wouldn’t continue to push herself. She absolutely would. But it would be done at a pace that was far more suitable for an out-of-shape person rather than two buff dudes. She wasn’t worried about catching up. Like she told Adam, she would meet them at the finish line. No big deal.

Preslee slowed down and fell to the back of a large group of contestants who passed by. She thought she could stay with them, but even their leisurely pace was too intense. Within minutes, they disappeared around a bend in the path ahead of her. That was probably the last time she would see them.

Didn’t matter. It wasn’t like she was worried about getting lost. Signs positioned on the trail pointed out the way at every turn, and it didn’t require a significant amount of navigational skill to follow them. Besides, without any obstacles to cross, it wasn’t like she needed anyone’s help to finish the run on her own.

Well, probably.

It was an uphill battle, and the steep gradients required larger and longer ascents and descents than when the path had been flat. Her thighs burned on the inclines, and her shins and ankles hurt on the declines. But she willed the pain away and kept going.

Misery swamped her entire muscular system, and she had no doubt that she’d be next-level sore the following morning. For now though, her body absorbed the pain and converted it into motivation.

Her damp clothes had kept her cool—even if they did reek of death—but it hadn’t taken them long to dry out under the hot sun. The black mud caking her clothes and body had dried to white and cracked with each movement. Clumps of mud stiffened her hair, making her feel like Medusa on a bad hair day.

She licked her dehydrated lips, wishing she had a bottle of water. Her parched throat burned with every breath panting out of her. When her sides began to ache, she breathed out evenly through her nose. It didn’t help. Her lungs no longer expanded to maximum capacity, and she felt like she wasn’t getting enough oxygen, making her light-headed.