Goddess Boot Camp(60)

“Makes sense.” He shrugs out of his zip-up sweatshirt and hangs it over mine. “That’s the shortest course,” he explains to Tansy. “That way if you get worn out, we can stop after one lap.”

“I won’t get worn out,” she insists. “We don’t need to do the baby course.” She looks personally offended that we would even suggest she couldn’t keep up.

I remember feeling like that, like I had something to prove. Like I didn’t need people cutting me slack because I could keep up on my own, thank you very much. Just last year I felt like that, actually.

Still, we’ve never seen her run. To be on the safe side we should at least test the waters before we push her to the limit. That’s how injuries happen.

“How about this?” I suggest, going for a middle ground that will save her pride and make sure we don’t push her too hard, too fast. “We’ll take one lap on the yellow course and then we’ll do interval training around the stadium.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Griffin says, jogging in place to warm up his muscles. “I read an article about interval training last year. The alternation of sprinting and jogging builds up cardiovascular efficiency and overall stamina faster than running alone.”

Tansy looks skeptical, like we’re trying to pull one over on her. I am, in a way, but she doesn’t necessarily know that.

Finally, after eyeing me and chewing on her lip, she nods. “Okay.”

I shake out my arms and legs, checking to make sure they’re still warm and loose from when I’d stretched earlier. Everything feels in working order, so I lead us to the starting line.

“Not that you will,” I say to Tansy, “but if your muscles start burning or you can’t catch your breath enough to speak, then pull up. Stamina is easy to fix. Injuries are not.”

“Fine,” she says, jamming her hands on her hips.

I can tell we’re on the verge of witnessing a huff.

“Then let’s go,” Griffin says. “I’ll take the lead; Tansy, you’ll run middle, and Phoebe will bring up the rear. She’s used to that,” he teases.

“You’d better run,” I say, lunging for him.

Before I can smack him on the shoulder, he pushes into a run and starts following the little yellow flags marking our course. Tansy follows him, easily matching his gentle pace. I remember to start the stopwatch and then fall in behind her, knowing Griffin placed me here so I could watch her form . . . and her condition.

He starts off at a jog, clearly not wanting to push Tansy beyond her ability. Without having discussed a plan of attack, I know he’s going to keep nudging up the pace until I let him know she’s reached her peak. But halfway through the one-and-a-quarter-mile course, he’s at top training speed, and Tansy is still in perfect shape. Her form is a little rough—her arms flap around a little too much and she lets her hips sway instead of keeping them in line—but she hasn’t missed a step. She doesn’t seem to be wearing out.

We hit a straight stretch and Griffin turns to glance back over his shoulder. Our eyes meet. He lifts his brows, silently asking me what I think. I shrug and lift mine back, indicating that everything seems good to me. Then he’s facing front again and maintains his pace.

As we round the final bend of the course and the finish line comes into view, Griffin says, “We’re almost there.”

“Let’s do another lap,” Tansy says, not sounding at all out of breath.

“Phoebe?”

“Yeah,” I say, suitably impressed by Tansy’s endurance and willingness to work hard. Feeling confident, I suggest, “Why don’t we switch to the blue course?”

“You sure?” he asks.

The blue course is the longest, measuring in at eight miles. It also has a two-mile-long section that boasts a thirty-degree incline. I’ve run it a few times, but always on fresh legs.

Something tells me that not only has Tansy run the blue course before, but that she’s probably run back-to-back laps.

Just to make sure, I ask, “You up for it, Tansy?”

“Yes!”

“Okay,” I say as we cross the finish line and turn immediately back onto the course. “Why don’t you take the lead, then.”

She turns and looks at me. “Really?”

I nod and before I can say, “Really,” she speeds up and passes Griffin to take first position. He drops back to my side and asks, “Are you sure she’s ready?”

“She thinks she is,” I say, watching her pound the dirt. “She deserves a chance to prove it.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re racing up the incline, working hard to keep up with Tansy’s pace. Her training speed is at least fifteen seconds faster than Griffin’s. And a couple seconds faster than mine. By the time we reach the decline, he and I are both breathing hard and a low burn is starting in my quads. From behind, I can’t tell if Tansy is wearing out. Her arms may be hanging a little lower than when we started, but I can’t be sure.