Page 10 of Not On Your Life

I step onto the treadmill next to her and hit six. That’s a good warm-up pace. I peek at the screen on Maddie’s treadmill. Six point five.

Hmm. Six feels a little slow. I punch the button for seven.

Maddie ups hers to seven point five.

My breath comes harder, but that’s what the warm-up is for, right? Increase my heart rate?

Eight sounds about right for that. My soggy shoes squelch and squeak but I keep my pace.

Maddie doesn’t change her speed for a full minute.

I raise my chin, my steps coming easier. I win.

I focus on my breathing and not the traitorous air bubble stuck to my side.It’s not there. It doesn’t exis—

Beep.

She’s at eight point five.

Oh, come on!

She’s not even breathing hard. In fact, is she…smiling?

I hit nine. I needed to amp it up, anyway.

Maddie goes right past nine point five and straight to ten.

I hate her. How is she running so fast? She’s tall but not as tall as me. I should be able to beat her at this.

I knock my treadmill up, ten, ten point five, eleven. There. My feet pound so hard and fast below me they become a blur. A very loud blur, causing several people to glance in my direction, questioning my sanity with the thinly veiled judgment in their eyes.

I try to make it appear natural like I’m not dying. My body has other plans. My foot slips on the wet belt, and I have the undeniable feeling of death creeping in.

Once I had a dream where I slipped off a treadmill and right onto the one behind me. I went on for miles, being hurled off one treadmill only to fling onto another. Over and over again.

I grip the rails, using every muscle in my body to prevent my dream from becoming a reality. My other foot makes solid contact with the outer edge, and I cling for dear life.

Maddie yanks out the emergency clip in front of me, and my treadmill stops. I take a moment to drag a healthy dose of air into my lungs.

“You should probably wear this next time.” She says, dangling the clip in front of my face with a haughty grin.

I straighten and pull out a flirtatious smolder, one that has been known to make a girl or two swoon. “Is that what that’s for?”

Maddie glowers. “Yes. It’s for idiots. Like you.” She drops the clip and steps off her treadmill. “Let’s go. I hope you’re warm.”

I’m warm. Also embarrassed and more than a little terrified on account of almost dying, but I shake it off and follow her. It was my own stupidity that nearly got me thrown off the treadmill, like my own stupidity got her fired.

I don’t need to win everything. I can sit back and let her—oh great, pull-ups. I did not practice these.

“Today I want to get a baseline to see where you’re at. Start with ten.” She points to the bar above my head.

I don’t remember the last time I didone.

“Okay.” I rub my hands together then drag them along my shorts for no other reason than to avoid the inevitable. Ten pull-ups. I can do this. At least I could in college.

I jump up onto the bar. The first two come faster than expected. Around five, I slow down. At seven, I have to dig into it. Eight has my arms shaking.

“Can you do two more?” Maddie asks, a competitive edge to her tone.