Page 93 of Playing to Win

If Brooks were here, I think there’s a good chance he would punch this Marcus guy in his upturned nose. Since he isn’t here…

“For your information, Marcus, it wasn’t a stunt.” I rise, my chair scraping the floor as I stand. “Brooks Adams is a million times the man you could ever hope to be.”

I drain the wine from my glass and bang the empty down on the table. Then I leave the damn party and the farce of everything that is my life in London.

* * * *

“Look, I told you I didn’t want to be there. The guy was a dick.”

Anna stands in front of me with her hands on her hips, looking a little green since she started eating a slice of toast for breakfast. Maybe she should have slept off more of her hangover first.

“You know what, Izzy, why don’t you just go back to New York if you prefer it so much?”

I put my headphones into my ears. “Be careful what you wish for, Anna. I’m going for a run.”

I set my wristwatch and start a half marathon. I run through Chelsea, Kensington, around Hyde Park, checking my watch at each mile. By the time I reach thirteen miles, I have shaved eight minutes off my best-ever time.

I bend forward and drag air into my lungs, then start to walk off the run. My smile is so wide, my cheeks ache. At the next store I pass, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I buy a chocolate bar. I take it to a bench in St. James’ Park and I watch people walking by as I enjoy my treat, square by square. Brooks was right. If you work hard, a reward is fine. I don’t feel guilty at all.

Working on cardio with Brooks was what got me to my best time today too. I take my phone from the bottom pouch of my yoga pants and snap a selfie.

I type the words:

YOU SHAVED EIGHT MINUTES OFF MY HALF MARATHON WITH YOUR BRUTAL CARDIO.

YOU KNOW THE SAYING, NOTHING TASTES AS GOOD AS SKINNY FEELS? WELL, IT’S BULLSHIT. THIS CHOCOLATE BAR TASTES BLOODY AMAZING.

I hesitate before finally hitting Send and enjoying the last of my sweet treat.

---