Rooftop to Rooftop

Hana had trained for the city endurance challenge for four months, running stairwells and timing herself on every parking garage in her neighborhood. Twelve checkpoints across the old industrial district, eight hours, no set route — just get there however you can, on foot.

By checkpoint seven, her ankle had started aching in a way that worried her. She'd rolled it slightly climbing down from a loading dock an hour earlier and hadn't stopped to check it properly.

Emeka caught up to her near the old grain elevator, sweat-soaked and breathing hard. They had been rivals for most of the course, each trying to beat the other's time, but right now he slowed instead of passing her.

"You're limping," he said. "Since when?"

"Since the loading dock. It's fine."

"It's clearly not fine," he said. "If you keep pushing on it like that, you could turn a sprain into something that needs a cast."

Hana wanted to argue, mostly out of pride, but she sat down on a low wall instead and pulled off her shoe. Her ankle had swollen slightly, though it wasn't as bad as it had felt with each step.

"I'm not quitting," she said. "I've got five checkpoints left."

"I didn't say quit," Emeka said, kneeling to retape it properly with the roll from his own pack. "I said stop pretending it's fine and let someone help you."

He wrapped it tighter than she would have, firm enough to support the joint without cutting off circulation. It helped more than she expected.

"We could split up. You'd probably still beat your best time," Hana said.

"I could," Emeka agreed. "But I'd rather finish with someone who actually pushed me the whole way."

They covered the last five checkpoints together, matching pace instead of racing, Hana favoring the taped ankle but keeping up all the same. They crossed the final checkpoint within a second of each other, and neither of them checked whose foot landed first.