Too Personal Trainer

Twelve

When Marlow agreed to let Jax train her, she never guessed it would be so difficult. Her morning jogs and strict diet had her fooled into thinking she were fit and able enough to run the half marathon that was nearing, when in fact she wasn't even close. Early afternoon, instead of Jax driving, they jogged to the gym. Marlow thought they would jog back, too, though was in for a big surprise when Jax walked inside and told her they had a session booked upstairs in the studio.

“You're kidding, right?” Marlow heaved, taking two steps at once to keep up with him. “We've just ran 5 miles and you expect me to do more?”

“The half marathon you intend to run next month is 13 miles, so yes, I expect more.”

It wasn't necessarily the fact she were tired. Out of breath, sure, but after a drink of water and a few deep exhales her heart would calm back down. It was her ankle that was going to hold her back. She knew telling Jax was the right thing, the best thing to do for her health, but her pride couldn't take him going easy on her. She wanted to be trained fully, with no special treatment.

Marlow took a swig of her water, trying her best to refrain from loosening her shoe. It was only aching, but that's how it always began. The ache turns into agony in such short time.

“I want to focus on your legs today,” Jax told her, grabbing two mats from the shelf. “13 miles will be tough on them.”

Marlow nodded, but felt red warning signs flash in her head. Perhaps there was a way out. “I was hoping we would target my stomach,” she suggested. “My holiday is around the corner and my sole reason for agreeing to this, was so my stomach will look nice in a bikni.”

“That's all well wanting that, but eating Chinese take-away and having a bottle of wine to yourself isn't going to make it any easier.”

“It wasn't the whole bottle,” Marlow defended.

“I saw it empty in the rubbish bin.”

Marlow cleared her throat, slightly embarrassed. So what if she enjoyed wine? A bottle every now and then never hurt nobody, right? “Well,” she mumbled. “Is that a no, then?”

“Legs first,” Jax nodded. “And if you can still walk, I'll think about it.”

She caught his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Jax grabbed two ankle weights. “I'm going to push you,” he said, “until you can't no more.”

Marlow felt the panic consume her.

“Put these on.” Jax handed her the ankle weights and put on the music. “Hamstring curls,” he told her, “20 reps on each leg.”

As Marlow strapped the weights around her ankles, she tried to figure out if Jax was purposely trying involve her ankle because he wanted an answer, or whether no thought had gone into it and it was simply leg building. She did as he said, taking extra care on her right leg but also making sure it wasn't noticeable. The last thing she wanted was him to know she were in pain.

“Curtsy lunges,” Jax instructed, watching her.

Marlow was more than thankful her back was facing him, as she couldn't help but wince as she stood up. She hated this exercise. A deep breath she took, and began on her left leg first. They were easy. But when 20 reps past, Marlow felt her heart sink in her chest when she pushed her right leg diagonally behind her and lunged. One was bearable. Two stung a bit more. Three caused her to grit her teeth. And four set the sirens off.

“I need to stop,” she let out a shaky breath.

“A few more,” Jax pushed. “Go lower.”