“Optimistic.”
“She registered for the Lake City Marathon yesterday.”
“Why?”
“Her intake form says personal growth.”
“That always means emotional crisis.”
Blake ignored that. “She attached her own preliminary training plan.”
Inside the folder was a printed email, a health questionnaire, and a document thick enough to qualify as light reading. The cover page read:
LAKE CITY MARATHON PREPARATION FRAMEWORK Prepared by Amy E. Price
Below the title was a version number.
“Version three?” I said.
“She registered yesterday.”
I flipped through the pages. There were sections on mileage progression, strength benchmarks, footwear replacement, weather probabilities, fueling costs, travel time to training routes, and something titled Projected Bathroom Contingencies. An unwilling smile tugged at my mouth.
“She budgeted for lost toenails,” I said.
Blake leaned over the desk. “Is that normal?”
“No.”
“Is it useful?”
“Potentially.”
The final page listed her goals. Primary: Finish the Lake City Marathon. Secondary: Avoid preventable injury. Tertiary: Demonstrate capacity for sustained personal change. That third one sat differently from the others. Not run faster. Not lose weight. Not raise money. Demonstrate capacity for sustained personal change. Someone had told Amy Price she could not change. Or she had told herself. I knew something about building an entire life around the need to prove one sentence wrong.
“When does she want to start?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“At what time?”
“She requested the earliest available appointment before work.”
I glanced at her employer and office address.
“Six?”
“Six.”
I closed the folder. The marathon logo was printed on the top of her registration page. A simple outline of the city skyline sat above the race date: Sunday, September 21, 2025. Twenty weeks. My right knee ached with a memory that had nothing todo with tissue or bone. I could refuse. Blake would find another gym, another coach, another solution. Amy Price would arrive tomorrow with her spreadsheets and her impossible timeline. Someone else would tell her whether the goal was realistic.
The line waited in her careful, square handwriting.
Demonstrate capacity for sustained personal change.
“Okay,” I said.
Blake brightened. “You’ll take her?”
