His eyebrows lift. “At all?”
“Well, not as much as you hope, at least.”
“That’s something.”
“It is. But this isn’t only about fitness.”
Behind him, Kev makes a quiet noise that might be a laugh, but he’s suddenly very busy checking a coupling, so I choose to ignore it.
AJ looks annoyingly steady in the kit for a man who does not belong in it. Not comfortable. Definitely not comfortable. The jacket sits heavy on him, the trousers are stiff around his legs, and the helmet makes him look as if his head has been borrowed from a more serious profession. But he’s tall enough to carry the bulk without being swallowed by it, and now the first shock of the weight has worn off, he’s standing with the wary focus of someone who has decided not to show weakness in front of witnesses.
Which means he probably does run mountains.
Properly.
That still won’t help him enough.
“Right,” I say, picking up the length of hose from the concrete. “We’ll start simple.”
His gaze drops to it. “That looks simple.”
“It is.”
“Good.”
“Which is why you’ll be annoyed when it isn’t.”
He looks at me.
I let him sit with that for a second, because I am not a saint and because, technically, this is educational.
“Basic movement first,” I say. “Round the outside of the yard. Not fast. Just steady. Get used to the kit. Feel how it moves, what it does to your balance, how quickly it changes your breathing.”
“That sounds reasonable.”
I point towards the edge of the yard. “Round the outside. Keep the helmet on. Don’t sprint. Don’t try to prove anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“No?”
“No. I’m very mature.”
Mish, who has joined us with a clipboard tucked under one arm, says, “That’ll be useful.”
AJ looks at her. “I’m choosing to take that as encouragement.”
He starts jogging before he can make it worse.
For the first few seconds, he looks exactly like what he is: a tall man in unfamiliar kit trying very hard not to move like a tall man in unfamiliar kit. Then he adjusts. Shortens his stride. Lets the weight settle. Stops fighting the jacket and starts working with it.
That is interesting.
Most people either overplay it or pretend the kit weighs nothing until their pride starts leaving marks on the yard. AJ does neither. His breathing changes, but he doesn’t panic about it. His shoulders tighten once, then drop. By the time he passes us at the end of the first lap, his pace is slower than it would be in normal running clothes, but it’s steady.
“Still alive?” Kev calls.
AJ lifts a hand without breaking stride. “Reports are promising.”
