Mister Overly Enthused then started jogging in circles around my living room. All he needed were some pom-poms, blonde pigtails and a cheesy war cry to complete the look. This was a far, far cry from the guy with a cigarette behind his ear and his perfect vintage suits. And then he did something disturbing; he actually gave the air a fist pump.
“Whoa!” he whooped. “I am fired up!” He continued to jog in circles. Surely he wasn’t serious? It was hard to know what to do. I had to find a way out of this.
“Look. I lied. I’m not going jogging this morning, or any morning.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to come with you.”
“I’m not.”
“Are you scared I’ll hold you back, keep you from cracking those twenty miles?” He said it with a smile on his face.
“Ben. I’m not going jogging with you.”
He suddenly swung himself up and put his arms in the air, moving his hands in large circles—he was clearly making this shit up as he went. “But I went out and bought the whole outfit,” he complained. “I even downloaded a running app and it’s hooked up to this watch. Look.” He stuck his arm out in front of my nose. “It counts steps, calories, miles, everything.”
I sighed. Ben was just about the most persistent person I’d ever met and he was now bending his knees and doing what I assume was meant to be a hamstring stretch.
“I’m serious. I lied to you. I don’t jog. Ever.”
He stopped stretching and looked up at me. “You lied? To me? Your boss?”
I swallowed hard and felt a little panicked. I wasn’t sure how to read Ben. I wasn’t sure if he was seriously angry or not? “No. Of course I wouldn’t lie to you. My boss.”
He smiled. “I didn’t think so. An employee such as yourself knows the value of trust in the work place.” And then he winked at me as if he was teasing.
“Fine. Wait here.” I conceded and walked off to my room. How hard could it be to jog? It was just a fast variation of walking. I opened my cupboard and pulled out an old tracksuit and slipped on an equally old pair of sneakers. I passed the mirror and caught sight of myself. I had serious bed head, so I ran a brush through my hair and scraped it into a messy bun. I couldn’t believe I was actually about to go jogging, with Ben, at five in the morning, in winter. Clearly I’d lost my mind.
“Okay, let’s go, I guess.” I exited the room and found him mid-stretch. Despite myself, I couldn’t help a small laugh. He looked utterly absurd.
“What? They say stretching is as important as working out!” he said, standing up again with a rather pleased look on his face.
“Mmmm.” I nodded.
We walked downstairs towards the foyer, but when I got there and looked outside, I knew I needed someone to have me committed. It was still dark and it looked freezing.
“Okay,” I cringed as I pushed the doors open and walked into Antarctica. My nose felt like it had just been flash frozen and I could barely see through the steam of my hot breath. Ben, however . . .
“Refreshing,” he said with an unnatural amount of vigor. “Which way?” He was still jogging on the spot, bobbing up and down enthusiastically.
“Whichever.”
“Well, don’t you have a route? A twenty-mile one?”Fuck! This was getting way out of hand.
“Follow me.” I started jogging in a random direction—which sadly happened to be up a steep hill. It didn’t take long until I was doubled-over and completely out of breath.
“STOP! Oh my God . . . Crap, shit . . .” (gasp, gasp, gasp) “Holy . . . Stop.” I was gasping for air and clutching my knees. My lungs felt like they were on fire, my muscles stung, my lips felt like they were going to be ripped off by the cold wind, and my nose was running far better than I was.
“Okay, I give up. I lied. I don’t flippin’ jog, okay, I lied to my boss!”
Ben gasped dramatically. “You didn’t?!”
“I did. I’m a liar, a lying untrustworthy employee or whatever you want to think, but I . . .” (pant, pant, pant) “. . .Oh my God I think I taste blood. Is it supposed to hurt like this? I need to sit down . . .” (gasp, gasp, gasp)
I flopped down dramatically onto the cold hard pavement. Ben had stopped jogging too and was now leaning against a low wall.
“So I guess twenty miles is out of the question then?” he said with a mocking smile plastered across that stupidly good-looking face of his.
“Shut up,” I spat back at him. “Is your heart supposed to beat like this?” I clutched my chest tightly in case my heart decided to burst out of it.
