“I do.”
“You’ve wanted it for a year.”
“I’m aware of time.”
“You missed the last enrollment period.”
“I was strategically delaying.”
“You were afraid.”
I licked yogurt from the lid. “Of online coursework?”
“Of calling yourself an endurance coach.”
I tossed the lid into the trash. Rose’s stare did not move. There were many annoying things about having a physical therapist for a best friend. She noticed shifts in posture, breathing, gait, and avoidance. Lying to Rose required full-body commitment.
“I coach runners,” I said.
“You coach recreational runners and general fitness clients.”
“I have several distance clients.”
“You refer the marathoners to Miguel.”
“Miguel likes marathoners.”
“You like marathoners.”
“I like clients who pay on time.”
Rose folded both hands around her tumbler. “You know enough to do the certification.”
“Thank you.”
“You also think finishing it would force you to decide whether you’re going to race again.”
I scraped my spoon along the bottom of the yogurt.
“Interesting theory.”
“It isn’t a theory.”
“Is this a free consultation?”
“No. I’m billing your insurance.”
The staff room door opened before I could answer. Blake Turner swept in carrying a tablet, a coffee, and the energy of someone announcing a military campaign. They wore black leggings, a fitted Iron & Ivy jacket, and a whistle around their neck. No class on the schedule required a whistle. Blake considered whistles a management tool.
“Staff meeting in five minutes,” they said.
“We have a staff meeting at eight,” Rose replied.
“It has become seven twenty.”
“That is not how scheduling works.”
“It is how urgency works.”
