The Runner's High Ch. 01

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CW: FMC has a difficult relationship with food

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"5 minutes 2 seconds. A new personal best."

I had just finished a mile run, and was nearly faint. A whole two seconds had been shaved off of my previous best. Progress, but I wanted to crack the five minute barrier.

We're our university's running team, and our nickname is "The Cowgirls". Our captain Jennifer came up with this because of the burger joints we often visit after a run, and she joked that we're so hungry we could eat an entire cow. The girls are my favorite people, but I don't want to always be around them. They're too normal. Afterwards they go to eat, talk about girly stuff like boyfriends, shopping, celebrities. I keep in with them, but not too much. I'm the awkward one.

Every time we go for a burger, I order just fries. I eat a few, but when the conversation gets flowing and they're not noticing, I drop as many as I can onto the floor. I don't run just to stuff myself afterwards. I run to be proud of my body, to keep it trim. And I run to be proud of my spirit, that it is strong enough to make me always leaner: fewer seconds on the clock, fewer pounds on the scales, fewer inches on the tape measure.

We finish dinner, and I think this time I managed to drop maybe three-quarters of my fries. That's another kind of new record, maybe it will be matched by a faster time tomorrow! I get home, and put on my breast-binding corset. I'm not really anything when it comes to gender, but most people would at a glance consider me female. I don't want that, but I'm not male either. Without these breasts I could be just me. No men wanting me, no expectations. I'd have freedom. When I've got the money I'm going to remove them.

The next morning, I get ready for my next personal best attempt and get on the scales. 5'7, 110 pounds. Not bad, but still over a hundred.

I get to the track, and the girls are having some kind of debate with a guy - a guy who's not dressed like a runner. I find out that the guy, Adam, is an artist and is offering us each $20 if he can paint us together - in our running gear - after a race.

I'm not keen on the idea. I hate being gawked at, and I don't like standing still. But it's a bit of cash, so the girls are all for it and I don't object.

I don't break my best this time: I was four seconds behind yesterday. And we are not going straight to eat, Adam gets us to link arms and stay still for a session.

We stand there in front of the track and do nothing but look at this artist. How am I supposed to be still? I'm a runner, I'm active whenever possible. I'm not built for standing and just being watched.

It ends at last, and we go to check out the painting. Adam's a good artist. The people in it look like all of us. The sunlight looks like the day outside, the track looks real. Art is definitely not my skill, but I'm impressed.

"You need to come have a burger with us." Jennifer is an overly-friendly captain.

"Thank you. I'd love to. I need to take the painting back to dry, then I'll be with you."

"Wonderful. See you at The Boathouse, in thirty minutes."

No, he's not coming. It's something we do as a team.

"Jennifer, it's meant to be just a team thing." I don't want any guy in our group.

"Come on Catherine, he's paying us twenty dollars."

"Well, I don't want to impose," Adam says.

"No it's fine, come." Jennifer stares at me and I don't say anything. OK, he'll come. And I'll still come too, but I'll be even more the silent one. Hmmm, actually, if they're distracted by him, I might not even need to order anything.

We get to the burger joint, and the girls just can't stop talking about Adam.

"He's got that sensitive, intense expression. I think he saw through me." Jennifer says.

"He can paint me again for free!", Patricia adds. I'm still not keen.

"Look, we're a group. It was always just us."

"Come on Catherine. He's nice."

"But Jen, he's not a runner."

"Maybe he lifts instead. No harm knowing him." Jennifer and the others start giggling, and are still at it when Adam enters, notices us, and comes to our table.

"Hello girls. Thank you for helping me with my masterpiece earlier."

"Anytime, Adam." Jennifer has kept a grin the whole time.

"I'm going to order a quarterpounder and fries I think." Adam sits down, and starts ruffling through a menu. He's sat down next to me, presumably because there happens to be an empty seat next to mine.

"Hi, you're just having fries?"

I'm unsure why he thinks he has the right to comment on what I eat, but I act polite. "Yes. Not so hungry."

"Not even after a mile run and an hour standing?"

"Look, I'm good."

"This is Catherine. She eats like a newborn hummingbird." Jennifer likes to point out that I avoid food, no matter how many times I've told her to keep quiet.

"Come on. I'll buy you a burger in addition to your twenty bucks."

"No you don't need to."

Adam orders two quarterpounders, one for himself and one for me. I'm worried, I don't want to eat that much, but with the focus on me it's hard to avoid. They arrive, and I try and pick at mine so we can leave without me finishing it. But Adam is keeping the whole group engaged, so it's going to be some time before I can go.

"So yes, the twenty each is generously given by the Carnegie Mellon Arts Research Fund. To encourage young people into both sports and arts, they're commissioning paintings of sporty students. You girls of course came up."

"Well I'm happy to pose some more." says Jennifer. Patricia and the other girls all laughingly agree.

"But how about you Catherine?" Adam looks directly at me as he asks this, and I try to look at my food.

"Well I just don't usually enjoy being stared at."

"It's normal to be shy at first. But it will help with getting funding for future tournaments."

"Go on Catherine, be one of us." Jennifer likes to pressure me into things.

"Alright, maybe after my next mile?" I give in, less attention overall this way.

"Excellent. Now eat up, you've left your beef." Why does he keep commenting? But I start pondering being painted again. Adam is very talented. His skill at painting is much better than my own, I could never make anything look good during art class in school. As I think on this, and the table keeps talking, I manage to finish my quarter pounder and most of my fries.

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It's morning, and what's happened? I get up, and notice I didn't put my corset in last night. I never forget. How can I run with giant breasts? What happened, I stuffed myself yesterday, how am I going to run again?

Today was supposed to be a rest day. Studying continues, but no running. I don't feel like resting though. I dare not look at the scales, I need to get two miles in first.

I get to the track, and there's Adam. Why is he there, it's not a race day?

"Hi Catherine. Where's the other girls?"

"It's a rest day today. They're studying."

"Then what's with you here?"

"I need extra practice. To break five minutes."

"But surely if they need to rest, you need to as well?"

"Look, I need to practice. We can do painting another day."

"Catherine, you need to rest too. It won't be good for you."

"You can paint tomorrow."

I start to run, but after my first lap I notice Adam. He's watching me, and I don't know what it is but I notice the way he watches me. It's caring, it's not the creepy watching I can't stand.

I don't do another lap, I go to him.

"You're right it's rest day. Just a quick sprint and I'm over."

"Another portrait? The Carnegie Mellon Fund have a prize and if I win, it'd be great for your team."

"OK."

"Come to my studio. I've got watercolors set up, and I need to practice them."

"I don't think so."

"The studio is in the main art block. I'll show you, come this way."

I decide to follow him. It is my rest day. I shouldn't be running miles today or my muscles won't recover. I should relax.

"But I need to sit this time," I tell him. "It's rest day."

"No problem. We've got a large green chaise longue that's extremely comfortable. You sit down, you won't want it to end."

We get to the studio, in the main university building. I don't usually come here, this is for arts and language. I'm an Electrical Engineer, this area was never something I liked in school and it isn't now. Adam's studio is private, there's his green couch to sit down on. The room has that sharp smell of paint, and it's a total mess. Not where I'd usually be, but if Adam wins, he can help the team.

I sit down, and Adam messes with his paints for what seems a long time. I'm not sure when he actually started, and it took him seemingly all day to finish. But finally it's over, and I get up. His painting is prettier than yesterday's. He explains to me how it's a watercolor technique, and it creates a soft yet lifelike effect. I notice his other paintings. There's fruit paintings, woodland paintings, paintings of the sea.

Yet I notice one painting is very different. There are three women pretty much naked, and some men to their right.

"What's that about?" I ask Adam.

"Oh that's not mine. It's just a copy. It's called the Judgment of Paris by Rubens. I keep it there for inspiration."

"You like it? It's very creepy."

"I want to paint something like it one day. When I've practised more, it's oils which are hard to get right."

"I like your flowers, and the oceans. I'd stick to them."

"Theyre for practise, they're not the same as a person. Which is why I'm happy to start painting members of the sports teams."

"I wouldn't want to be in anything like that."

"It's alright, thanks for sitting today. It's really helpful to me, I need to get my body of work up so it's appreciated."

"It's OK. The team will sit again soon anyway."

I don't know why, but I enjoyed sitting. I run until I'm exhausted, then try and rest. That's what I've always done. But this is different, it's being watched, it's doing nothing, but it's relaxing and enjoyable in a way I don't understand.

"Catherine, why don't we grab something. Not another burger of course, maybe tacos?"

Tacos are not something I'd usually have. The calories need a marathon to burn off. But he seems to be offering, so I don't object.

"Sure, let's go."