Journal from Martha.

Journal from Martha
(715 words)

January 10th, 2014.
Those were the words and numbers I had hastily scrawled across the top of my journal. I then stared at the black page beneath them. How do I describe  today?

It was cold. And it was windy. And I felt like I wanted to cry, and I don't know why I didn't just stop running. Maybe it was just that Kristina wasn't letting me stop running.

"COME ON. If I wanted to run at zero miles an hour I would have run with Mark!"  She had shouted at me, and I felt bad for Mark. It wasn't his fault that his wife was an insane work-out- aholic.

 "I-Can't-breathe!"

 I managed to force the words out, my tired lungs frozen with ever breath I took. My eyes watered as I looked a couple feet in front of me, to the retreating back of Kristina. I stood straight up and jogged in place to get the feeling back in my feet, pumping my arms and breathing through my nose. "I can do this." I had thought. My feet hurt as they slammed into the pavement and my legs felt like they were on fire, but a couple of long strides later I found myself neck in neck with that long black pony-tail and that bright red windbreaker. I laughed in relief as I saw the place where we had decided was a lap. I picked up the pace, matching my stride with Kristina's. I raced past the marker and threw myself down on the ground. I watched as Kristina streaked past, shouting out behind her "One more lap sweetie!" I groaned, picked myself up and muttered in short breaths, "I hate when she calls me that."
Remembering that afternoon I shuddered at the memory, of how Kristina had basically pushed me till I broke and then stomped on the pieces. But I also remembered how it felt when I collapsed at home, how my legs felt lighter than air as I propped them on the ottoman. I also remembered something that I would have preferred not to. It was at the Starbucks  about a block from the park where we had been racing, and I wanted to stop for a little pick-me up.
"Do you know how much sugar and crap there is in that??"  She practically shouted as I thanked the man behind the counter for my Mint Mocha with whipped cream. I shrugged and took a minty sip, feeling the warmth slide down my throat and warm me from the inside out. Kristina threw her arms in the air in exasperation. "Why do I bother trying to get you to exercise when you eat that junk?" She hissed, so that the other customers wouldn't hear. "And for your information, it has 66 grams of sugar. You're only allowed 25 grams. That's six table spoons." She placed one hand on her hip and took a sip from her homemade kale smoothie.
 I was reminded of how she was in school. Constantly counting calories not for figure, but simply for health. Spurting out random facts about literally everything anyone ate in our school, always racing the fastest  and working the hardest in PE. It makes me wonder why I was surprised when she joined the local gym and started training to become a personal trainer. I watch her now and wonder how fast she would catch me if I sprinted out to avoid another lecture about the dangers of gluten.
Remembering the afternoon made me realize she was probably jealous that I could eat whatever I wanted and still be skinny. She actually had to work for her strong legs and arms, and almost  perfectly toned stomach, I was just plain skinny with not much muscle
Now I sit on my couch, with my TV on in the background, my Great Dane Phil curled up next to me as my pen hovered over my journal.

January 10th, 2014.
Ran with Kristina today, legs are recovering. I might join the gym tomorrow. Maybe I'll even give those kale smoothies a try, or give up sugar, something extreme.That's for sure.
Stay Strong!

I closed my eyes and smiled, imagining the look on Kristina's face when I walked into the gym tomorrow.
It was a hilarious.
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-Jessica Baker-