Chapter Three The Treadmill Incident #3
I refused to react. She continued through questions about sleep, work, stress, and nutrition.
The process was more thorough than I had expected.
She asked what my workdays looked like during quarter-end reporting.
She asked how much time I could realistically devote to training.
She asked whether I had access to safe outdoor routes, whether I preferred mornings or evenings, and whether I had anyone who could support me during long runs.
“Tessa,” I said.
“The friend who posted the video?”
“You saw it?”
“It was on your intake.”
“I did not attach the video.”
“Blake did.”
I made a note to discuss privacy boundaries with Blake.
“What does Tessa think about the marathon?” Dani asked.
“She thinks it is a bad idea.”
“Is she wrong?”
“Yes.”
“You answered quickly.”
“I have considered the question.”
Dani rested the tablet on the table.
“Why are you doing this?”
“It’s on the form.”
“‘Personal growth’ isn’t an answer.”
“It is literally an answer.”
“It’s a category.”
“I want to complete a difficult goal.”
“Why this goal?”
Beyond the glass wall, a woman pushed a weighted sled across the turf while a trainer encouraged her. Near the windows, two older women walked side by side on treadmills, talking and laughing.
“I said I would do it,” I replied.
“To who?”
“People.”
“What people?”
“Does it matter?”
“It might.”
I adjusted the watch on my wrist. Dani noticed and let the joke she had been forming go.
“I’m not asking because you need a dramatic reason,” she said. “People run marathons for strange reasons all the time. Birthdays. Breakups. Charity. Bets. A need to suffer somewhere with portable toilets.”
I almost smiled.
“It was an impulsive decision,” I admitted.
“That must have been terrifying.”
“You know very little about me.”
“You made a twenty-page preliminary framework within twelve hours of registering.”
“Twenty-three.”
“Thank you for strengthening my argument.”
I aligned my thumbs.
“My former girlfriend said I was afraid to take risks.”
Dani’s teasing stopped.
“We were together for three years,” I continued. “She ended the relationship six months ago. On Saturday, at her engagement party, I announced that I was running the marathon.”
Dani blinked.
“Her engagement party? To someone else?”
“That is generally how engagement parties function.”
Dani leaned back. “How much champagne?”
“One glass. I registered the following morning while sober.”
“That makes it more concerning. Most people send a regrettable text after seeing an ex. You selected endurance suffering.”
She smiled, but the teasing was gentler now.
“Do you want to run the marathon,” she asked, “or do you want your ex to know you ran it?”
I had prepared for scrutiny, not that. I disliked it.
“I paid the entry fee,” I said.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I don’t know yet.”
Dani nodded. It was the first answer she had accepted without pushing.
“That’s honest,” she said. “We can work with honest.”
The statement produced a reaction in her that I could not read. She looked at the tablet again.
“Here’s what I can tell you today. You have twenty weeks. That’s enough time for many beginners if they have a reasonable base and stay healthy.”
“And if they don’t have a reasonable base?”
“Then we find out what they do have.”
“I can run.”
I sat a little straighter, as though posture could turn the claim into evidence. Dani’s gaze flicked to my shoes.
“I saw.”
“The treadmill incident—”
“Was not representative,” she finished. “You mentioned that.”
“It was caused by excessive speed.”
“That tends to be involved.”
I pressed my lips together. Her eyes brightened.
“You’re trying not to laugh,” she said.
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“This meeting should remain focused.”
“Tomorrow will be focused. Mobility, strength, and easy running.”
“I can run.”
“The safety clip disagrees.”
“That issue has been resolved.”
Dani laughed. I did too, before I could control it. Her surprise held for half a second, and the consultation room became newly, inconveniently intimate. I reached for my bag.
“So, six tomorrow?”
Dani stood.
“Six tomorrow.”
She handed me the bag instead of carrying it. A professional improvement.
At the door, she said, “Amy?”
I turned.
“Don’t run today.”
“I had planned an evening session.”
“Cancel it. I watched you run.”
“For less than three minutes.”
“Long enough to prescribe recovery from your attempted defeat of Geraldine.”
“I was not—”
“Six tomorrow, Price.”
She smiled and walked away. I remained in the doorway. Price. I should have disliked the nickname. I did dislike it. Mostly.
Tessa was still awake when I returned home, eating toast over the sink.
“How was the trainer?”
“Unprofessional.”
“Hot?”
“Not relevant.”
I summarized the reservation, the fall, and Dani catching me.
“You increased the speed because a hot woman was watching.”
“There was an adversarial context.”
“That is not a denial.”
In my bedroom, the bright blue workout top I had planned to return waited in its bag. This was an assessment. There was no reason to wear blue.
I set the bag beside my shoes.