Why you should choose your career (and pastimes) carefully
The morning sunlight lanced through the window. Somewhere outside a dove cooed. It was late spring and whilst dampness from the night lingered the general atmosphere was of freshness and the promise of summer.
Rolling over in bed, Marie tried to cling on to the last vestiges of sleep, that sweet, addictive warmth/soft/darkness that made it so tempting to stay in bed all morning even though she knew she’d regret it later. Steeling her will she flung the covers off her in one decisive movement, then, (with) eyes still shut slowly started to work her legs off the bed. Finally, after pausing for a moment half on, half off the bed, she sat up and eased open her eyes.
//God, it’s too early. I don’t know why I put myself through this shit, I really don’t. I mean I could have been a student and get to laze around till 1. Or, at the very least do any normal 9-5 job and catch a lie-in on the weekends. But noooo, none of those would have done for me, I had to go and decide to be a superhero of all the fucking things. If only Id realised back then it would involve getting up at 6 everyday for a bloody morning run I might not have been so rash. Still I suppose I could still run away…//
Dreaming wistfully of long tropical days with mornings spent on a porch drinking Mango juice and evenings luxuriating in the sultry heat or cooling off in the sea, Marie finally forced herself entirely out of bed. Rather half-heartedly she pulled on some sweatpants then foraged through her drawers for anything that even vaguely resembled a clean T-shirt. Finally buried right at the back she found something large and black which turned out to be a T-shirt she got free at a concert a couple years back and never wore ‘cause it was the size of a tent.
//*Sigh* I really should do some laundry today. Oh well, better than nothing I suppose.//
Pulling it on then belatedly deodorizing up the inside of the T-shirt, she tugged on a pair of socks and rescued her shoes from different sides of the room. Glancing at the clock she blanched and started desperately searching through the piles of clothing and junk around her room.
//SHIT! I’m going to be late! Again! Oh bloody hell! Why is it always me god, why?! And where are my gloves? Stupid, stupid, bloody things. And, I need to stop swearing as much or Scott’ll hear and I’ll end up polishing the jet. Again. Stupid Logan, it’s all his fault anyway, bringing out my latent personality traits or however it was that Professor Xavier put it. He should have to polish the jet.//
Finally spotting her gloves down the side of the bedside table, Marie snatched them up and dived out the door. Pelting down the corridor and towards the back door she dragged them on and worked them up her arms as much as she could whilst running at high speed. Grimacing at how sweaty her hands were going to feel even though these were her special running gloves, custom-made from breathable, synthetic fabric and elasticised around the forearm so they wouldn’t slip down, she lamented again not doing her laundry earlier.
//Maybe I should have just dug one of my dirty running shirts out, It looks like it going to be properly warm today and if I’d worn one of the long-sleeved ones I could have just forgone the gloves altogether ,just stuck them in my back pocket for emergencies. It’s only my arms that really matter while running and no-one ever seems to care.//
Panting, she clattered down the porch steps just as Scott was gathering the junior team together
“Ah Marie, there you are! You missed the warm-up but it appears that you’ve done your own so I suppose we don’t have to worry”
Trying, and failing, to not gasp for breath Marie narrowed her eyes at Scott’s obvious mocking tone whilst he settled for looking composed and smug. Over his shoulder, Logan, who had apparently decided to crash this morning’s jog, was openly laughing at her.
“I was just explaining to the others”, Scott said, diverting her attention back before she could really enjoy her fantasy of disembowelling Logan with a butter knife, “That this jogging is not just about improving your physical stamina, but also about improving your mental stamina. It takes a lot of willpower to force your body to run farther or faster than it wants to go but it takes even more to achieve this when you have no idea how long you’re going to have to keep it up for. Which is why today”, Scott paused dramatically, “ you’re all going to keep running till we say you stop”
As shouts of protest sounded around her, Marie stalked over to Logan who was now standing innocently off to one side.
“You did this didn’t you?” She hissed accusingly.
Logan smirked down at her, completely unruffled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kid. This is just a perfectly normal and important aspect of your training”
“Don’t give me that shit!”
“Hush, hush now. It would be a real shame if Scott overheard you using language like that now wouldn’t it?”
At this blatant threat, Marie scowled but stifled her rather graphic instinctive retort.
Logan his smile practically evil by this point patted her on the shoulder in a faux-comforting fashion.
“You should simply take this run as the lesson it’s intended to be” he said soothingly
Marie gave him a sceptical look
“Oh? And what’s that”
“That the next time you and the firecracker feel like a drinking binge you don’t steal my beer.”
As Marie stared at him in shock and dawning anger, Logan sauntered back towards the house chuckling to himself.
“I’ll see you later, Kid, its still a bit early for me, think I might head back to bed for a bit”
And with that he disappeared through the door whistling, as behind her Scott called for everyone to start jogging.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
//...// indicates Marie's inner dialogue