Chapter Three The Treadmill Incident #2
I looked at Blake. “The woman who ignored the treadmill reservation?”
Dani pressed a hand to her chest. “Ignored is harsh.”
“You knowingly continued using it.”
“I completed my interval.”
“You told me you were cooling down.”
“I cooled down later.”
Blake pinched the bridge of their nose.
“Dani,” they said.
“I cleaned it.”
“That is not the relevant part.”
“It feels relevant.”
I looked between them. “I’d like another trainer.”
Dani’s expression did not change, but the amusement left her eyes. Blake drew me a few steps away.
“I understand the first impression may have been unconventional.”
“She named the treadmill.”
“Dani names many things.”
“That does not improve the impression.”
“Her coaching is excellent.”
Behind Blake, Dani folded her arms and looked toward the windows as if she could not hear us.
“She has extensive experience with beginner clients,” Blake continued. “She understands distance training and knows the Lake City course.”
“How many marathons has she completed?”
Blake hesitated, only slightly.
“You can discuss her credentials during the consultation,” they said. “I assure you I would not assign someone unqualified.”
“Is anyone else available?”
“Our other endurance trainers are fully booked for the next six weeks. I can place you on a waiting list.”
Six weeks. By then, I would be fourteen weeks from the marathon, assuming my calculations were correct. They were correct.
“I could find another gym.”
“You could,” Blake said. “But Dani is one of the strongest coaches in the city for someone at your starting point.”
“My starting point?”
Blake looked toward the treadmill. I followed their gaze.
“That incident was not representative.”
“Of course.”
“You sound unconvinced.”
“I sound diplomatic.”
Dani walked toward us. She had pulled the gray shirt down over her stomach and tied her hair into a higher ponytail. Her expression had shifted. The flirtation and teasing were gone.
“I’m sorry about the reservation,” she said.
The directness surprised me.
“I should have finished before your time began.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m sorry I kept pushing the joke when you were clearly annoyed.”
I studied her. She seemed sincere.
“I accept the apology.”
“Good.” She glanced toward the treadmill. “I’m not sorry I caught you.”
“I had not asked for an apology regarding that.”
“Excellent. We’re making progress.”
There she was. I tightened my grip on the water bottle.
Dani looked at Blake. “Can we use the consultation room?”
“It’s ready.”
She turned to me. “You don’t have to hire me. But you registered for a marathon five months from now, and the last three minutes tell me your current training plan needs adjustment.”
“You have not seen my training plan.”
“I read it.”
I stared at her. “You read my document?”
“I’m the trainer it was sent to.”
“It was a preliminary framework.”
“It had a version number.”
“Version control is responsible.”
“You projected toenail replacement costs.”
“Toenail loss is frequently mentioned in marathon resources.”
“It shouldn’t be a budget category.”
“That is a matter of opinion.”
The corner of her mouth betrayed her. Blake looked between us.
“I have a meeting,” they said, backing away. “Dani will take care of everything.”
The betrayal was immediate. I watched Blake leave. Dani picked up my gym bag before I could object, staggered under its weight, and asked whether I carried an emergency generator.
“Necessary items,” I said.
She carried it downstairs despite believing I could manage it myself.
“Then why are you carrying it?”
“Because you nearly died trying to impress me.”
“I was not trying to impress you.”
“Good. I’d hate to see the advanced strategy.”
The consultation room had a glass wall, a small table, two chairs, and a diagram of major muscle groups that was more detailed than I required before breakfast. Dani set my bag beside one chair and sat across from me. She opened a tablet.
“Before we start, I want to clarify something.”
“So do I.”
“You first.”
“I need to know whether this is how you normally behave with clients.”
She rested her forearms on the table. “Steal their treadmills?”
“Tease them.”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“People are nervous in gyms. Humor helps.”
“It can also make people feel as though they are not being taken seriously.”
The observation landed.
Dani nodded once. “You’re right.”
I had expected an argument. It was difficult to continue one without opposition.
“I do take your goal seriously,” she said. “The marathon is hard. Training for it from your current base will be harder. I’m not going to lie to you about that, but I’m also not going to make you feel stupid for starting.”
“I don’t feel stupid.”
“Good.”
“I feel underprepared.”
“That’s more useful.”
She turned the tablet so I could see the intake form.
“Your appointment today was meant to be a consultation, not a fitness assessment. We’ll review your health history, schedule, goals, and current activity. If we decide to work together, I’ll assess you tomorrow.”
“At six?”
“If that works.”
“It does.”
She studied me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep saying that when something is clearly occurring.”
“I’m deciding whether you’re always this formal.”
“I am speaking normally.”
“Then yes.”
I folded my hands on the table. Dani scrolled through the form.
“You had mild asthma as a child?”
“I haven’t used an inhaler in years.”
“We’ll note it. Any recent pain or dizziness?”
“No.”
The treadmill incident flashed through my mind.
“I didn’t ask about Geraldine,” Dani said.