Page 24 of Your Pace or Mine
If you want.
Darius
He’s not my coach.
Adam
Soooo next week?
Darius
Saturday 9 a.m., Battersea Park.
Another thumbs up from Chi was followed by a mass of emojis and GIFs. And just like that, they had a new training schedule. Battersea was bloody far to get to from Jamie’s flat in Mile End on a Saturday morning, though.
On Wednesday, Jamie tackled intervals with Reggie at their local track. The workouts were brutal: 400-meter sprints that left him gasping, followed by short recoveries before the next round. Reggie paced him, always a step ahead, shouting encouragement when Jamie felt like quitting.
“Come on, you’re not going to let an old man beat you, are you?” Reggie called over his shoulder, grinning.
“You’re barely a year older than me,” Jamie shot back, panting.
“Exactly,” Reggie quipped. “Ancient by comparison. Better pick it up, La’.”
By the end of the session, Jamie’s shirt was soaked through, and his legs wobbled as he walked to the tube, praying to anyone that would listen for a seat. Still, he had to admit he was getting faster. He could feel it on his other runs, the way his legs turned over more easily, though it also may have all been in his head.
On Thursday, during what was supposed to be a routine recovery run, Jamie felt a sharp pain in his knee and hip. He stopped mid-stride, grimacing and trying to shake it out, but the discomfort only worsened. He limped home, hoping it was just a fluke. The next morning, though, the pain lingered, turning every step into a reminder that his body wasn’t invincible.
“You need to rest it,” Reggie said firmly when Jamie told him. They had met up at their usual diner for a greasy rest day breakfast. The weather was abysmal, a grey, drizzly London day. Typical. But Jamie was grateful he wasn’t planning a run today.
“I can’t afford to rest,” Jamie argued. “The marathon is creeping up. I’ll fall behind.”
“You’ll fall behind even more if you’re sidelined with a worse injury,” Reggie countered. Not voicing what they both knew, an injury for Jamie meant more than not finishing the marathon; it could end his already faltering musical theatre career completely.
Jamie suffered through the contemporary class he taught that afternoon. He usually loved it, teaching people how to express themselves through movement, but the pain was distracting. He spent the evening with an icepack on his knee, hoping against the odds that he’d be fine for the group workout tomorrow morning. It was the first session with what he’d been mentally referring to as thesplinter group.He didn’t want to skip it, didn’t want to let Darius… or the others down.
Apparently, knees don’t answer to a higher power, because no amount of praying had done anything to make Jamie’s feel better. It was Saturday, though, and despite the pain, he wasn’t going to let his group down. His flatmates were still asleep, unlikely to be out of bed before late afternoon based on the time he’d heard them stumbling in late last night, or early that morning, really.
The group chat was already pinging as he leaned against the pink laminate worktop in his kitchen, sipping his tea while he scrolled.
Chi
Where in the park are we meeting?
Darius
In front of Millennium Arena. There’s a track we can use.
A thumbs up from Chi. Jamie switched over to his map app. He wasn’t very familiar with the area, being basically the opposite side of London from his flat.
Claire
We should get brunch after.
Adam
Definitely.
Adam was always up for anything Claire suggested, so that was no surprise. Jamie tossed his things into a backpack and left as loudly as he could. Payback to his flatmates for waking him uplast night, though he suspected they were too dead to the world to even notice.
