Page 3 of The Weight Of It All

Three

Being at the gym at eight in the morning on a Sunday was ridiculous.

The fact that some people were finishing up from an hour session already was even crazier.

Did these perfect people sleep? And realistically, that meant they must have gotten here sometime after six to be here to start at seven.

To exercise. On a Sunday, the day where I normally slept in and went out for a lazy brunch.

But exercising? I had concerns for their psychological well-being.

“Hey, Henry!” Reed greeted me cheerfully. “So glad you’re here.”

I watched two women as they left, all sweaty and laughing. “Do you do psych evals or blot tests on these people?” I asked Reed quietly. “Because I think they might have some mental health concerns.”

Reed threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, you crack me up.” He seemed genuinely happy, and given he’d been here, probably working out since six himself, made me question his sanity.

“So do you have to be crazy to do exercise for a living?”

He grinned. “Nope. But it helps.” He clapped his hands together.

“I’ve worked out an exercise and diet plan for you.

” He collected some sheets of paper and showed me the exercise plan first. “Cardio, core training, and body strength will be the main focuses of the first four weeks. We’ll start slow and work our way up, okay? ”

I nodded bleakly.

“And the diet plan is fairly broad. You said food is your thing, so it’s important to get this side right just as much as the exercise, because if this doesn’t work for you, then you’ll be more likely to quit.”

“Does it include kale?”

He grinned. “No kale.”

“Good.”

“Come on and I’ll show you what I’ve got planned for you.” He walked with a bounce in his step over to a row of treadmills.

I did my best David Attenborough impersonation.

“Ah, modern, yet archaic torture devices in their natural habitat. Not a particularly threatening species unless you’re an overweight thirty-five year old who hasn’t run since high school.

” Then I remembered that wasn’t exactly true.

“Okay, well, running to grab a half-priced KitchenAid in the Boxing Day sales doesn’t count. ”

Reed was staring at me, still smiling. “Did you get it?”

“Get what?”

“The KitchenAid.”

“Oh, of course. I love to cook. It’s my thing.

And there was no chef or grandma alive brave enough to get in the road of a man on a mission.

Although I still do feel bad about elbowing that lady.

She was faster than me; she wore running shoes, and I wore my Diesel loafers.

Style over comfort, you know how that is.

But let me tell you, I never made that mistake on a sale day again.

” Reed looked at me for a long moment, like I baffled and amused him in equal measure.

“ Sorry. I tend to talk a lot. Not a great deal of it makes sense.”

His grin was slow-spreading but genuine.

“Makes perfect sense to me. Okay, we’ll start with some cardio.

” Then he pressed some buttons on the treadmill.

“I’m gonna set this for you. See this?” He pressed some more buttons while I watched.

“It’ll start with a slow-but-steady walk, then it’ll get a little faster, incline a little like you’re walking uphill, then it’ll slow back down to your starting pace.

” I stepped onto the machine, and he hit the start button. “I’ll be back when you’re done, okay?”

He left me to it, walking over to some other fit-looking gym members, giving them the exact amount of attentive and professional time he gave me. He was good at his job. Definitely a people person, and the way everyone called him by name and him them, I assumed he was well-liked.

I watched him while he spoke to a lady who was using some arm-pulling torture device and then helped a guy lifting weights.

He looked over at me every so often and smiled as I huffed and puffed my way through what he’d called a gentle stroll.

Jesus, if I walked this gently anywhere, I’m sure I’d be dead before I got there.

Then holy shit, the treadmill beeped and started to tilt. The platform rose up, and sweet mother of God, I was going to die.

After I got used to the change, Reed was beside me. “Looking good,” he said, his usual smile firmly in place.

I fully intended to reply with some intelligent and witty comeback, but walking up a non-existent hill for five minutes left me incapable of breathing and talking at the same time.

I thought about hitting the stop button. Actually, pressing that emergency stop button in hopes that an ambulance would arrive and drive me to the nearest coffee shop was very tempting .

But I knew if I started making excuses now, I was wasting everyone’s time and proving Graham right. And that’s what made me push through it. Sure enough, after an eternity in hell, the treadmill declined and the pace slowed.

When it came to a stop, I hopped off. My legs were absolute jelly, my lungs burned, and my heart was nearing cardio-fatal levels.

Reed clapped his huge hand on my back. “How was that?”

I held my hand up, still too out of breath to speak. So I nodded instead and managed a few one-syllable words. “Not. Good. Exer. Cise. Bad.”

He laughed again. “You pushed through it. You did really well.”

I nodded and wiped my face down with my towel. “Yeah. That was great,” I managed to say. “Thanks. See you tomorrow?”

Reed fought a smile. “Uh, that was just your warm up.”

God help me. “Well,” I panted. “Consider me sufficiently warmed up. Overly warmed, actually. Hot, if I’m being honest. I think I’m going to expire.

As in, drop dead.” I walked, somewhat shakily, over to the closest weight bench and sat on it.

My heart was still trying to kill me. My lungs felt like they were fighting for room in my chest.

Reed clapped his huge hand on my shoulder. He was really rather touchy-feely. “Come on, on your feet. You’ve got more in you yet.”

I put my hand up, still trying to catch my breath. “One sec. My lungs are broken.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Come on, get up.”

Somehow, I stood. Reed took me over to a StairMaster machine.

“Oh, I’ve seen these in action before,” I said.

“In Hugo’s House of Pain, except the guy was strapped on and he was naked and―” Reed’s eyes went wide.

“―and that was a long time ago. I’m not into leather; it was just one night. Sorry, what were you saying?”

Reed slow-blinked then started to laugh. It took him a moment to stop laughing, not that I minded because the longer he laughed at me, the less time I was gonna be on that exercise machine.

Still smiling, he shook his head. “Okay, step up on it for me.”

I did that.

“Hold onto the handles,” he said. I did that, and he continued to explain, “The elliptical is a cross-trainer. You will use lower body and upper body. It’s great for cardio, similar to the treadmill but with no impact.

” He rattled off the physical benefits, to which I simply nodded and smiled―in a slightly horrified kind of way―then he went through the settings on screen and set it for two minutes.

“Just a short one today. I just want you to get a feel for it. You ready?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckled and hit start. Fuck. It was like climbing stairs while holding ski stocks or two Gandalf staffs.

Thou shall not pass was too bloody right.

I’d never make it in Middle Earth because two minutes on this frickin’ machine almost killed me.

Fuck going to Mordor. I couldn’t even go around the block.

The machine finally slowed, and I stepped off. My legs were past the consistency of jelly and were more of a slush, and my lungs were on fire. I was surprised I wasn’t breathing out smoke.

Reed saw that I was finished and came back over to me, his smile wide. “How was that?”

I put my hands on my knees. I mean sure, I was out of breath, but if I didn’t hold my knees, I’m certain my legs would’ve buckled. “I’m sure this violates the Geneva Convention. ”

Reed’s smile became a grin. “You’re really funny.”

I stared at him. “I’m being serious.” I stood up straight and my heart, lungs, and ribs protested. “Ugh. Jesus Christ. And this is supposed to be good for me?”

“You’re doing great,” he said quietly. “First time’s never easy.”

“Yeah. That’s what he said.”

He stared at me, then barked out a laugh. “I see what you mean about the no filter.”

I waved my hand at him, still trying not to die of aerobic asphyxiation.

I took as deep a breath as my lungs would allow, then another, until I was somewhat sure I was going to live.

And I had to do this. If I wanted my life back, I had to quit bitching and get it done.

“Okay, so what other torture devices are there?”

Reed grinned victoriously. “Over here.” He led me to some metal frame contraption that had cables and pulleys. “This is called a cable and pulley machine.”

“The person who invented it didn’t have an extensive vocabulary, did they? Or an imagination.”

His warm smile matched his eyes, but he ignored my comment.

“This is for the strength part of your workout program. Stand here like this,” he said, standing under the frame.

He held the two separate handgrips and proceeded to pull them back and forward effortlessly; his arms and shoulders bulged and flexed with each movement.

He then went on to do a range of different positions and exercises, telling me which muscles benefited from each one.

“The weight is set at forty kilos, but that’s what’s good about this machine.

You can set the weight to suit anyone. What do you think you can lift? ”

I tried to do the maths based on full martini glasses, because I lift those without any problem, but Reed changed the weight to ten kilos before I got done counting.