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“I’m sucking in air like a vacuum, Luke. The air’s not the problem.”
“Okay,okay,” he said. “I’ll only worry if you start turning blue.”
She wrinkled her nose but kept moving.
They’d run just over eight miles. They were in the home stretch now, on their way back to the gym, but he could tell she was struggling with these last two miles. Luke looked down at his watch. Maybe he’d cut the run short today. Part of being a good trainer was knowing when to push your client and when to pull back. Lydia was allowed to have an off day.
He glanced over at her, studying her shortened stride, her flaring nostrils, the clenched fists as she tried to shake off the cramp. “Did you drink enough water this morning? Or is your blood purely caffeine?”
“Of course I drank water,” she grumbled. “I’ve been drinking so much water lately that I’ve sprouted gills.”
“The rent’s probably cheaper in a fishbowl.”
She muttered under her breath at him, which normally would have made him laugh, but she was clearly uncomfortable and he didn’t want to push it. Instead, he came to a full stop. “All right, arms up,” he said, catching her elbow. He took her hands and directed them over her head. “We’ll stretch it out.”
“How close are we?”
“Close enough. You did good.”
“Doesn’t feel good.” She groaned. “Does this mean I’ve failed training?”
Luke smiled softly at her. “You can’t fail training.”
“But I didn’t finish the run.”
“Only by like a mile and a half.”
“That feels worse than if I’d just flaked out at the beginning.”
“Part of these early training sessions is getting used to listening to your body, figuring out what it needs in the moment. By the time you get to the marathon, you’ll know how to run through the cramp. Right now, you’re learning. Not everything has to go perfectly. We’ll crush it another day.” Lydia frowned as he guided her until she was leaning to the side. “Hold this position for thirty seconds.”
Lydia did. When she righted herself, she was still wincing.
“Show me where it hurts again.”
Lydia pushed on a spot near the bottom of her rib cage. Luke laid his hand over hers, doing everything in his power to avoid meeting her eye. They’d done so well at keeping things professional, he didn’t want to ruin it with a heated look.This is all business, he told himself as he applied gentle pressure. “Take a deep breath.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“I mean a proper, slow inhale. None of that shallow stuff you’ve been doing for the last half mile.”
“If you could tell I was breathing wrong, why didn’t you say anything?”
“These are things you’ll have to be able to notice during the marathon. Twenty-six point two miles is a lot. The occasional cramp is the least of what you can expect on race day.”
Lydia made a disgruntled face but to his surprise, didn’t complain any further. She clearly understood the concept of situational learning. “Any better?” he asked.
She nodded. “A little.”
“Okay, let’s start walking. We’ll get the blood pumping again and hop on the subway.”
Lydia kept her hand on her side, massaging away the lingering ache. “Where are we?”
“We veered off course a little,” Luke said, checking his phone. The route he’d originally planned had been interrupted by construction. “Actually...” he began. “Can I show you something?”
“If it involves the wordmassage, then yes.”
Luke waved her toward an alley.
