Page 24 of In the Long Run
‘I’ll meet you after?We can walk back together.Or get a ride with Yeti?’
I nod and purposely slow down, letting the distance between us grow until he’s nothing but another dark-haired head among the crowd.
The Annas are scarily gorgeous.Five kilometres of everything from pavement to a section of muddy fire trail and they could still sashay down a runway and make the other models look tired.One of them was even pushing a double pram, proving that not all heroes wear capes.My calves are splattered with mud and beads of sweat trickle down my forehead.I wipe my face with the neck of my shirt, pushing away the strands of hair that are stuck to my skin.
‘Just go up and say hello,’ I mutter, using the stack of pamphlets as a fan.‘Mention the run club, invite them along.’
Wet grass squelches under my feet and I step carefully around the softer sections.Not sure why I bother though.My socks are already wet, which all runners know means my day’s ruined.Hopefully I can avoid visiting Blister City.
I catch snippets of whispered conversations and even a couple of sneaky selfie attempts as I edge closer, weaving between the clumps of people stretching and chatting.
‘Hi,’ I say too loudly when I finally reach the Annas.
They smile politely and murmur greetings, and I wonder what it’s like to be them.To have people constantly watching you.I don’t really have to think about it too hard, though.The days after everything went to shit with Tim are burned into my memory.But that was notoriety and scandal, not interest or esteem.And I never signed up for it.I never signed up for any of the crap he put me through, yet I was the one who lost everything.My job, my work friends, my confidence.
‘Are you okay?’one of the Annas asks, jolting me back to the present.
I launch into my spiel, stammering about Mere’s gym and run club.My sentences are littered with ‘ums’ because I’ve never spoken to anyone famous before and these women are TikTok royalty.
The Annas accept the pamphlets, flipping them over and talking about how run clubs are all the rage and how their feeds are full of them.
‘They’re the new Tinder,’ one of the Annas says, with a twinkle in her eye.I think she’s Anneke, but she might be Annaliese.Annabeth is the one with kids.
‘Oh my God, yes.My friend started going to one last year and now she’s engaged to a guy she met there,’ Maybe-Annaliese says.
‘It makes sense if you think about it.’Annabeth crouches to pick up a dropped sippy cup, handing it back to a snowy-white haired toddler with bright blue eyes.‘Relationships are always stronger when you have things in common.And someone with a commitment to cardio?It can only mean good things in the bedroom.’
We all laugh and for a split second I picture what it would be like to be friends with the Annas.I bet they’re not short on friends though.
‘So you’ll consider coming along?’I ask.Meredith would be sending calendar invites right now and trying to sign them up for the gym’s newsletter but that’s not me.This has been enough effort for my introverted self.
‘Sure.’Anneke slides the pamphlet into the side pocket of her leopard-print tights.
I breathe out a sigh of relief, knowing there’s an emoji-heavy text message coming my way when Meredith hears the good news.‘Thanks so much.’
Anneke’s phone rings and she checks the screen.‘Oh, damn.We have to go.The photographer’s moved today’s shoot forward.Sorry to cut this short, Gen, but we’ll see you soon, yeah?’
‘Absolutely.’I nod.
Buoyed by the confidence I always feel when I can tick something off my to-do list, I march up to another group.I can do this.Be friendly and nice.Talking to strangers isn’t so scary when you have a purpose or something to hide behind, even if it’s an A5 pamphlet.
I’m approaching another group when Knox and Brody arrive, bracketing me between their bodies.Not going to lie, it’s a pretty good sandwich to be a part of.A fine sheen of sweat gives them both the kind of glow my tinted moisturiser promises and rarely delivers.
‘What are these?’Brody plucks a flyer from the pile in my hands.
‘My sister’s started a run club in the lead-up to Brigitte’s Run.’
‘Gen’s doing the marathon,’ Knox says, and I swear there’s something like pride in his tone.
‘Damn.That’s badass.When is it?’Brody asks.
‘Mid-September.’
Brody pulls out his phone, which has one of those massive cases – the kind that you could drop off a fifty-storey building andit’d bounce.‘Interesting.I’ve been thinking about signing up for that myself,’ he says, before shooing us away when a pretty blonde heads towards him.
‘Is he always like this?’I ask, arranging the remaining flyers into a neat pile.
‘Yep.’Knox lifts his chin and gestures towards my hands.‘Want some help handing those out?’
