The Answer to the Riddle is Me by David Stuart MacLean

Author:David Stuart MacLean [David Stuart MacLean]
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780720661
Publisher: Perseus Books, LLC
Published: 2014-06-08T16:00:00+00:00

I ended up having a car for the rest of the week. Dad was able to car-pool with Mom, and my range was extended considerably. The Gold’s Gym on 23 was having a special where you could get a two-week trial membership. I went in and signed up, figuring I’d work out every one of my last days in Ohio. I filled out all the forms and was given the tour. At noon on a weekday, it was packed with retirees. I was the only person there under sixty. After pulling on my shorts and shoes, I made a cursory attempt at lifting weights, then started up one of the treadmills. Almost immediately my body fell into rhythm. The weights had felt alien to me, but running felt preternaturally easy. I plugged in my headphones and listened to My Aim is True by Elvis Costello. I kept pushing the machine to go faster and faster. Time slid by, as did my anxieties. I kept punching the buttons, making the grade higher and higher. My legs moved easily. They were strong and able and happy with the thud thud thud as my feet struck the black conveyor belt over and over. By the time I finished, I was drenched through with sweat and my lungs burned, but I was maniacally happy. I ran for a little over an hour that day and did eight miles. I blasted the Elvis Costello album on the way home, the windows in Dad’s car down as I smoked.

The next day I woke up, and it was like someone had driven icicles into each of my shins. I hobbled downstairs and stretched them out, throwing my workout clothes in a plastic bag. I ran again for eight miles, then went to the Backstretch and had drinks and cigarettes with Debbie.

Running, smoking, and drinking. The rest of the week melted into this pattern. Here were things I could control. I was addicted to them. I could exhaust myself by punching the appropriate buttons on the machine, and I could mediate the chemicals that came into my body through the cigarettes and scotch.

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