About how this time, when Coach had them sprint, the ground seemed to have softened beneath her sneakers. She could smell the grass, the sweat on her skin, and the air darkening. Free, she’d figured it out. The rhythm, how to resist the demand for breath, even her own body’s nagging. Ruthy had measured it this time. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. And she could feel her coach smiling at her as she sprinted past all the other girls, who were just too slow.
