Playing the Field: Victory Lap

Chapter 1

Playing the Field: Victory Lap

By J.M. Snyder

Josh Helton woke with his alarm at six-thirty Saturday morning. As much as he would have loved to hit the snooze button, roll over in his covers, and go back to sleep, he knew he had to get moving. If he cried off now, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

The hardest part was that first step out of the bed. Throwing back the covers wasn’t too difficult, but his body wanted to just lie there, spread-eagled on the mattress, savoring the cool breeze generated by the ceiling fan. The thought of getting dressed, getting into the car, and driving to Bryan Park exhausted him. He could run tomorrow…

And you’ll feel the same way then, his mind whispered. It was true. That attitude is what helped put on the hundred pounds you dropped over the summer. So get that lazy ass in gear and get moving.

This time, he did. He swung one leg over the side of the bed, then the other. Then hauled himself up, whole body protesting the motion. But once he was sitting, it was easier to stand. And once he stood, he realized he needed to pee.

That got him moving, down the hall and into the bathroom to relieve his aching bladder.

Once that was done, he had no excuse. When he returned to the bedroom, the disheveled bed didn’t look as appealing as it had when he’d been in it. He pulled the covers into some semblance of order, stepped out of his boxers, and dressed. Tank top, running shorts, heavy socks despite the August heat. Sweat bands on his wrists, though he thought they looked silly. He had a headband, too, but he wasn’t going to wear it. That was so 1970’s, and no matter how retro fashion might be, he wasn’t about to rock that. Instead he opted for a hand towel, draped over his shoulder. He tied on his sneakers, grabbed his wallet and car keys, and was out the door in under a half hour.

As he started the car, he glanced at the dashboard clock and felt a sense of accomplishment. He hadn’t started his run yet, but he was out of the apartment on a Saturday before seven in the morning. The 10K race he planned to enter in March was as good as his.