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Asher laughs so hard he nearly falls off his bike.
"Fine," I say, when he gets a hold of himself. "Get your heart rate up to about 130 and stick at whatever resistance that is for six minutes."
Asher does as I say. "Isn't this too short to be a good test of my endurance?"
"We can do this for an hour if you'd prefer."
"Six minutes is good."
I pedal along, considering. "Actually, you're not wrong. Try to stick at a level where you're working, but not totally breathless for an hour and let's see what your average watts are."
"We don't even know how well these bikes are calibrated."
He's got a weird look on his face. One I've never seen from him before, like he's slightly constipated.
"Have you ever done an hour of cardio before?"
"Does shopping with my girlfriend count?"
"Nope." I consider the options. "Okay. This is what we're going to do. You ride that bike for an hour, but keep your heart rate in zone two like Grant said, so you don't overdo it. We'll see what your average watts are at the end. You can direct me in weight-lifting exercises from the bike as soon as I'm done warming up."
He groans, but keeps peddling. I stay on the bike because I'm still feeling good. A question is floating around in my brain, begging to be asked, but I know if I ask it, I'll regret it.
The alternative, however, is never knowing. "How long exactly was your day shopping with your girlfriend? Are we talking an hour or six?" He smirks, so I add, "for training purposes."
"Right." He's still able to talk, but he only gets out a few words at a time before he has to take a breath. "Ex-girlfriend."Breath. "Shopping for art supplies." Breath. "Two hours." Breath. "I think."
Okay. So he likes artsy women, not trendy women who love to shop for the latest, greatest accessories and clothing. I am neither type of woman.
Which is good.
I don't need to be Asher's type, because he's clearly not my type.
Whatever we have is purely physical.
"We dated for eight months," Asher says. "She was great." Breath. "But she didn't want marriage and kids."
"And that's what you want?" Crap. "I mean, not that it matters to your endurance test. I'm just wondering how owning a gym fits into those life goals. "
"I want the whole shebang." Breath. "Kids." Breath. "Dogs." Breath. "Hamsters." Breath. "Maybe a bunny."
I can totally see it. He is so that kind of guy. "I get the idea. Honestly, Asher, try to focus on the work at hand."
"You want kids?" he asks.
"You know what? I think I've had enough of a warmup." I'm careful of my knee as I hop off the bike, but it really is feeling much better. "Tell me what to do with the weights."
"Push ups on your knees to warm up."
I head to the nearest mat, praying it's been cleaned since the last person used it, and get into position. "How many?"
"Twelve," he shouts across the gym.
I pounded out the twelve and add three more for good measure.
Asher grunts. "Do." Breath. Breath. "What." Breath. Breath. Breath. "I." Breath. Breath. Breath. "Say."
"This isn't a sprint, Aldridge. I'll listen to you if you listen to me."
