“I also cannot keep training as though the marathon is where the relationship gets repaired.”
“Then don’t.”
“What does that mean practically?”
“Run because you choose the run. Cry afterward if you need to. Block the fan account. Eat carbs.”
“That is not a complete strategy.”
“It is more complete than cayenne under consequences.”
I opened the workbook again. Tuesday. Five easy miles. Not twenty. Not the marathon. The next run.
“I will run tomorrow,” I said.
Tessa asked, “Where?”
“Outside.”
“Alone?”
I considered.
“No.”
The Long Run Club did not exist yet. That was the name Dani had once proposed for her beginner program. Blake had rejected it because the gym did not want to advertise a service that had not been approved. The group waiting at Lake Park Tuesday morning consisted of people Dani had coached informally. Janine. Carol. The woman from the half marathon with glitter near her eye.
Simone. Two members from the circuit class. Tessa, wearing shoes that remained unsuitable. I stared.
“This is excessive.”
Tessa adjusted her hoodie.
“You said not alone.”
“I meant one person.”
“You failed to specify.”
Carol held out a paper cup.
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Good. I only brought one.”
Simone checked her watch.
“Five miles, easy effort?”
“Yes.”
“No race pace?”
“No.”
“No emotional sprinting?”
