chasing - lando norris

thirty three.

[cassie klein]

sunday may 19
imola grand prix.

The clear track in front of me is a much more welcome sight than the back of Lando's McLaren. I sit in the cockpit, staring down the straight into turn 1 as I impatiently wait for the green flag to wave.

The formation lap settled my nerves slightly, but the long wait for Logan Sargent to pull into the 19th spot set them back alight.

Breathe, Cass. One car ahead of you. That's all. Avoid anyone behind you getting a slipstream, plant your position, stay on the podium. And remember to breathe.

I inhale as the first light appears, then exhale at the second. The third and fourth take what feels like years to light, before the fifth and final light completes the set. The world goes silent, awaiting the race start. My eyes puncture holes in the lights as I stare at them. The only sound is the echo of my own heartbeat alongside the thrum of the car. It's almost as if the world has come to a stop, all of the attention focused on these five red lights that are holding back twenty cars from roaring past.

Lights out sends reality rushing back, the sound of the engines roaring to life rumbling through the track as I put my foot to the floor.

I can see Max ever so slightly in front of me, the nose of his car just nudging past my own as we race toward the first corner. I somewhat willingly settle in behind him through it, solidifying my spot in P2 for now.

The next few laps are the same story as I try to limit the degradation of my tires whilst keeping Verstappen relatively close.

"Doing a good job, Cass, sticking to plan A," Henry's radio comes through as I push through Aque Minerali.

His words send a small wave of relief through me. Sticking to plan A meant that everything was running as we had hoped, and if we stick to this trajectory we had a decent shot at a 2-3 podium and some serious points for McLaren in the championship.

I can feel the tires coming away from me as I pass the line and start lap 20.

"Tires are coming away a bit," I grunt, using a little more effort than I'm comfortable with through the chicane.

"Copy, still sticking to plan A, Cass, plan A,"

Fuck. Plan A meant I had to hold on for another couple laps before they're ready to send me in for a change of tires.

"What's the gap?" I ask, heart rate increasing at the thought of loosing even more time to Verstappen.

"Yourself and Max up to 6 seconds, yourself and Lando down to 1.7," Henry's response does little to ease the nerves. With Lando obviously making up ground and catching me, there's a high chance the team will see he has the quicker pace and ask us to swap positions. In doing that I have a higher risk of loosing even more positions during the switch and sabotaging my chances at a podium or even my first win.

"Just hold on for a bit, Cass. You can lift off more turn 6, save those tires a bit more."

"Copy."

*****

The words 'box box, box box' have never been so nerve-wracking. I round the corner to the pits and dive into it, waiting until the last possible moment to slam on the brakes. Two seconds feels like two years as the team get to work on my tires, slamming on a set of hard tires before lowering the car back down.

I'm moving again as soon as possible, making my way down the painstakingly long pit lane and back onto the track.

"If you can, try to stay ahead of Perez. Coming up the straight now," Henry's instructions arrive at the perfect time for me to put my foot down and climb through the gears and up to top speed. It's so close as I watch Checo gaining on me through my side mirror as I almost make it and...