Friday morning, Week 4
Josh Striker's desire to validate his aggressive "tolerance before rest" rehab strategy had pushed the limits of my high threshold, and I loved every minute of the maniacal therapy.
"That's it Donnie, that's it!" He howled, as I pushed past last weeks rep numbers in all plyometrics and after the last set of my four week regimen he rushed and embraced my sweaty, spent, tortured body.
It had been exactly four weeks since my severe ankle sprain, for which he discovered me lying on the ground. Josh helped me to my car and handed me his card for physical therapy and soon after the first visit I became his case study.
It turns out I was the perfect candidate with the perfect injury, the will to listen and do everything he said. It had a lot to do with my observation of him running every morning, weeks before the injury, fantasizing about the bulge in his pants while my wife was cold beside me in bed.
"You have exceeded expectations just about every week and your ankle, though still swollen some, as responded beyond what I thought was possible," Josh, a physical therapist, said to me as we lingered in each other's arms after I had finished.
The sun was high in the sky, warming our bodies on this brisk last spring morning. Masturbating to his image in my head, at home, alone in bed, my wife doing something else, was being replaced by deep, truthful banter after workouts.
"But what about my running times?" I said still to hard on myself, knowing while my plyometric exercises were setting records, my running times were still a good minute per mile slower than before I had gotten the injury.
"Oh Donnie," he laughed, somewhat grinning holding back a secret he now wanted to tell me. "That was purposeful."
"But you..." I started to say, confused.
"I set the goal too high, it was unattainable. You seemed to go for it anyway so I just kept pushing you towards something you couldn't get," Josh said when noticed we were still holding each other. Josh sort of looked around released our embrace. "My bad, I was just so excited."
"No, don't be sorry," I said holding his eyes.
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The four weeks were filled with workouts, runs, morning briefings, coffee, going over the numbers, setting daily goals, increasing banter and Josh every day praising me for my accomplishments.
He made me feel valuable and worthwhile and I looked forward to every "date", as my wife Mel would say as I was leaving, with a giddy anticipation. Affirmation is a powerful thing, as is anything firm and Josh emulated firmness, organization and a sleek, sexy, persona.
"Sometimes I wonder if you're cheating on me with Josh," Mel would say jokingly after I returned from coffee. "You are just beaming before and after."
"My ankle's getting better," I would say to her, knowing she knew how important this race was to me. "Laying on the ground, in tremendous pain, I didn't think I had a chance to run the IMT 1/2 marathon and right now I'm going to at least finish."
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Wednesday, Week 3
Towards the end of our morning coffee routine, Josh got a call that had him stand up abruptly, he pivoted and walked out onto the deck of the coffee shop.
I watched his body get tense, that fine, athletically trim and sleek body. His face changed as the call went on, he paced back and forth, even gesturing at times. Josh was so expressive, his face would get serious and excited at the same time pushing me through hard reps during my plyo jumps.
Now, he showed anger and concern as I leered at him from our table. I couldn't stop watching him, tight spandex shorts, biking shirt showing off his perfect torso. I had lost about 15 pounds in just that short time, but I was no where near his athleticism and was beginning to feel better around him.
Josh came back in and sat down, staring at the phone. "She really doesn't understand, Donnie."
"What's that?" I asked and his face looked up into my face.
"What we're doing here," he said, sighed and looked down at the floor. "It bores her. I mean yeah, theres a lot of information but at least listen and think! She just wants to know why it takes me away every morning and that's it, like I don't watch the kids at night or something."
"My wife thinks we're having an affair," I added suddenly, hoping to get a connection point in with similar married strife.
"Ha!" he said abruptly, and then let me infer the unthinkable happening to this 5'6" adonis. "At least THAT she would understand."
I hit a nerve with Josh, my wife's words letting me in on his wife's actions. I couldn't imagine someone cheating on this specimen of a human being, though I took his words at face value.
"That must have been hard," I said, pretending to know.
"The hardest," he said, now looking down. "I'm really, well, I don't mean to burden you with my problems."
How could this perfect man have problems?
"I can handle it, and I'm interested," I said, not realizing I was putting it out there. He looked up, sadness and loneliness showed up on his face.
"We're really just together for the kids sake, and even that's failing," he said. "I knew...no..."
He stopped abruptly and he quickly went back to the numbers on the sheet and the workout information for tomorrow.
We concluded the morning without setting goals, or talking about how I did. He was somber, texting and distracted until he needed to leave to get to work.
The truth was that day I had a lack-luster performance in all of my exercises and running. I honestly expected a call that night canceling everything after letting him expose his personal life to me, on top of my weak arse performance.
I received my usual text - "6 a.m. sharp. Be ready to kick it!"
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Thursday, Week 3
The day after my lackluster workout he showed up excited, a different look on his face. We picked up where we were a couple days prior and I was able to hit my marks for the day. Josh seemed eager to get to the coffee shop and break down the workout and set tomorrow's goals.
"Here," he said handing me a new apple watch. "Training concludes next week, but I want to give you this now."
"Umm, that's a lot Josh," I said, looking at the top of the line watch, already programmed for fitness he said. "I don't know..."