But for a guy whose idea of exercise was walking to the park on a Saturday morning, it proved to be a bit more than I could handle. I had set off at a brisk pace, thinking that this wasn’t too bad and surely, I could handle it. I’d spent hours listening to motivational talks on the benefits of exercise on the mind, how it focused brain activity and upped productivity. I’d never thought of it liked that. I was all for exercise now.
The reason why I’d thought I’d give running a shot, was because of Nikki. I’d asked her if she preferred athletic guys, and she denied it, but Simone’s words stuck with me. Nikki herself was active, she was always exercising, and I was certain she would prefer it if I was fitter.
But it was clear to me after only a few minutes that I was going to die out there. Completely out of breath and with a stabbing pain in my side, I was forced to stop and sit down, resting for ten minutes before I walked back to the office. I tried again the next day after work, this time, setting off at a slower pace. I’d probably made it about halfway when a dog jumped out of the bushes to grab a bite at me. I got a huge fright, jumping off the curb and twisting my ankle as I fell into the street.
The dog owner, a little old lady who had been unable to hold onto the lead as her little terror leapt away to attack me, felt terrible. She offered to call someone to help me as it was clear I couldn’t walk.
While I waited for Nikki to pick me up, I wondered why I didn’t tell her that there was another reason why I’d never had much luck with girls. Apart from not being sporty or popular, I had the additional sixty pounds of unnecessary weight I was carrying around with me as well. Living at home, where my mom was always cooking meals and leaving sandwiches for me, I had always eaten too much and too well. As soon as I hit college though, I had to fend for myself, and food was never a priority. Once I got stuck in work, I really did forget to eat. I also didn’t want to waste my money on food.
I lost a lot of weight, fast. After six months, my family was convinced I was ill and wanted me to take tests.
“But I feel fine,” I protested. “I just can’t be asked to cook for myself.”
Once I lost the weight, I noticed that I felt better too. My head was sharper, clearer and I had more energy. Perhaps I would have had more luck with girls now, but I’d become used to being on my own and doing my own thing. My studies were important to me, and I was too busy working on projects to think about going out and getting drunk, which were the main student activities when I was in college.
This was the time I met Mac Moorcroft.
We had been divided into groups to solve a particular problem and our team splintered because we couldn’t agree on an approach. Mac and I ended up coming up with our own paper and were severely penalized for not being part of the group. Even with the penalty, our paper proved to be the best in the class, something our lecturer could barely acknowledge.
Mac and I were similar in our interests and unwavering focus. But our backgrounds differed vastly. He came from wealthy parents and had enrolled in college only to please them. He told me early on he planned to drop out, he just didn’t know when. He was perpetually bored and uninspired and the only time I saw the tiniest spark of enthusiasm, was when he talked about work. He invited me back to his place, where he showed me a computer game he was working on. Intrigued at what was basically a shooting game, I suggested adapting the graphics according to individual taste. The idea was that people could upload a picture of their office or factory and set up the game to shoot up the environment of their choice. If they had photographs uploaded, they could even customize the players to resemble people like their manager or line boss.
Within months, we’d finished the game. I was living with him in his apartment, and he’d stopped going to classes altogether. I was still going but filling my days with studies and my nights with working on the game left no time for anything else. The game proved to be popular even while still in development, word got out and we had companies interested in buying it while we were still sorting out glitches. I saw the potential of big money and fame, my name in the headlines but as the game came closer to completion, Mac started to lose interest. His attention started wavering, he talked about travelling, getting away from New York. I thought it was talk only.
But one morning, he walked out of his apartment, and I didn’t hear from him for three years.
I was roused from my reverie by the sound of Nikki parking my car in the road. She had Zoë in the back seat.
“Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, just sprained it, I think,” I said, hobbling to the car. She tried to help me, but I shook off her arm. I wanted to handle my limp of shame by myself.
“Should we go to the hospital?” she asked but I shook my head.
“Just need some ice on it, I think.”
“When did you take up running?” Zoë asked and I detected a tone in her voice. I looked at her, but her face was not giving anything away.
“A while ago,” I tried to be casual about it.
I could see she was shaking with laughter.
“In those shoes?”
I looked down at my footwear, I couldn’t see anything wrong with them.
“These are top of the range running shoes, I’ll have you know,” I said.
“They’re water shoes!” she said, bursting out laughing. “Did you see anyone else on the road wearing them?”
“I wasn’t looking at anyone else!” I snapped as Zoë also started laughing.
“Oh, Daddy!” she said.
Now that she mentioned it, they hadn’t really been that comfortable, my feet had been hurting like hell the last couple of days, but I’d thought that was part of the whole sporting mantra of no pain no gain. I realized that when I’d searched for the shoes, I had seen this particular pair and liked the look of them, the innovative design and appearance, without considering whether they were suitable for city running on pavements and streets.
At home, with my foot elevated and a big bag of ice on top of it, Nikki was obviously trying to make up for laughing at me in the car. She brought me beer and offered to cook my favorite meal to cheer me up. She took care of the evening routine, bathing and putting Zoë to bed.
I left messages for Maisie, letting her know I wouldn’t come in the next day.