Up & Out - Ariella Papa [121]
“Yes, you will,” she says. And he will.
“Why don’t we start together and see how it goes?” Tommy asks Nancy. He catches my eye, and I know that he’s said that for my benefit.
We get the countdown, and the gun—or whatever it is they use—goes off. There are so many people starting out that we barely get to run until we are about a half mile in. Immediately, I start breathing heavier. We lose Janice and John pretty quickly. John wasn’t kidding about not being prepared.
“It’s okay, breathe in and out,” Kathy says. She starts talking to me, trying to keep me breathing properly by talking. I am able to do this until about two miles. By then I am dripping with sweat. It’s just too hot. Tommy and Nancy keep looking over at me. I wish they would stop.
We get to a hilly part of Central Park. It’s not a big hill, but the course along the river or from my apartment to Union Square is very flat. I am not prepared for this. I wonder how John is handling it.
“You should lean over like this,” Nancy says. “It will help your momentum.”
“Thanks,” I say. Normally I would try to convey what a nice, non-bitter ex-girlfriend I am in every word I say to her—but not this time. I am too hot and overexerted for pretense. I turn to Kathy. “I think I’m going to fall behind and take my walking break now.”
“Just wait until we reach three miles. It’s going to get better in a sec.” Kathy has granted me one two-minute walking break. Well, she suggested that’s all I take, but I have a feeling she is going to be disappointed.
“Let’s run up ahead,” Tommy says to Nancy. I’m so glad. “C’mon.”
“I’ll see you at the end,” I grunt. I make sure to smile at Nancy this time. A little pretense is palatable if it gets me away from the happy healthy couple.
They run ahead and I slow down. Kathy exaggerates her breathing as an example of what I should be doing.
“You don’t have to wait with me,” I say, trying to get the words out.
“I want to. Come on, you’re doing great. Don’t worry about talking. Just breathe.”
We run along like this for a while. We run past the guy who announces the three-mile mark. I look at Kathy, who shakes her head and mutters words of encouragement. I run beside her, trying to imitate her breath. It works, but after a few minutes, I really need a walking break.
“Okay, I’m going to slow down. I’ll see you at the finish line.”
“Are you sure? I can slow down, too.”
“I know you don’t want to walk, so just go ahead. I’ll see you there.” Somehow Kathy manages to give me a running hug and cheer me on. Then she takes off and I know she’s been holding out on me.
I slow, then stop and walk. Two minutes, it’s going to help. I breathe heavily. People are passing me—I feel like a loser. I look behind me for Janice and John. They are nowhere in sight. Maybe he convinced her to go to the bar, after all. Ugh, if I had a beer right now I would throw up. A cheese plate might be perfect, though. I pass the four-mile mark. According to my watch I have been walking for one minute and thirty-four seconds, but everyone is going by me. Oh, what the fuck? I start to run again, ahead of schedule, for the record.
This time I relax. I think about how Kathy was breathing. I repeat it over and over, in and out. I will finish. I’ve got to finish. I remember the day I ran along the river. Go back to that feeling of peace, Rebecca! Okay, I’m there. I feel strong. I can do that. I have a decent pace as I go past the five-mile marker.
I am doing this. I am almost done. I am running. I am a runner. I am sweating and gasping, but I am a runner. That’s like an athlete. That’s what I am. When I’m done, I will be able to eat whatever I want, because I have already burned the calories. That’s what runners do—they (we!) eat and run.
But wait a second, I’ve passed the six-mile mark. Shit! Fuck! The .2 miles! It’s 6.2 miles. It’s a 10-K. Why is this the only place we really use the metric system? Why can’t I just be done with my exercise for the year? Why does running suck so much? I can’t breathe! I am floating in my sweat. I hate Kathy! I hate Janice! All