Dani’s shoulders tightened as she said it.
“What kind of sick?”
“Couldn’t continue.”
“That is not a kind.”
“Amy,” Rose said quietly.
Rose placed one fingertip on her closed folder. There were details she believed belonged to Dani. I turned back.
“And the second?” I asked.
“Knee injury.” Dani glanced down at the small scar on her right knee, visible where her jeans had torn slightly at the seam. “I pushed longer than I should have and had to be pulled.”
“Was the injury permanent?”
“No.”
“Does it affect you now?”
“Not if I train responsibly.”
“Do you?”
Rose made a short sound that could have been a cough. Dani looked at her.
“Usually.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“I’ve learned since then.” Dani’s fingertips pressed harder into her thighs. “The attempts were three and two years ago. I haven’t raced that distance since.”
“Have you coached marathon clients?”
“I’ve helped with plans, strength, and pacing, and coached several half marathoners. Advanced marathon clients go to Miguel because his race experience is current.”
The honesty cost her something. Her fingertips pressed into her thighs, holding the rest of her body quiet.
“Blake knows you did not finish,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And assigned you anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dani’s eyes met mine.
“Because I’m good at coaching beginners.”
No charm. No joke. Only fact. I thought of the first mile. Slow is not weak. I thought of Dani stopping my assessment before I could turn stubbornness into injury. The plan works for you. You don’t work for the plan. A person’s ability to complete a marathon and a person’s ability to coach someone through one were not identical skills. I understood that.
I also understood that Dani had let me form the wrong impression for three weeks.
“Why didn’t you answer when I first asked?”
