You hug him extra tight the night before his race, burying your nose is the crook of his neck and clutching his t-shirt. You listen to his heart beat. Every time he has a race you worry, but who are you to take him away from what he loves?

The next morning you send him off, the crowd erupts in cheers. To you Schlatt is just your husband, but to them he is a celebrity.

You hold his face in your hands and try not to let your fear show, but he always knows when you are nervous. He presses his forehead to yours, “I love you, toots, I’ll be safe.”