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KATE
“What the fuck is that?”
I’m not sure who speaks, but the obstacle course elicits the same reaction from all the kids.
We stand on the first-floor lounge, where five dead zombies have been arranged down the center of the room. The sofas and tables have all been pushed to one side.
“You brought them inside?” Lila demands. “That is so disgusting.”
“Welcome to Humboldt University’s first ultramarathon training camp,” I say.
Six sets of eyes bug at me in horror. Everyone starts talking at once.
“We can’t train for an ultramarathon in a lounge,” Eric argues. “That’s just stupid.”
“What if those things carry disease?” Lila asks. “Oh my God, I think I see maggots.”
“Can I get stoned before my workout? That’s the only way I’m going to be able to deal with the smell,” Reed says.
“Hear her out.” Jenna raises her voice. “Just shut up and hear her out!”
“Thank you, Jenna. Training for an ultra isn’t necessarily about having lots of places to run,” I tell the kids. “I once knew a guy who worked on a cruise ship. He trained for ultras on the treadmill. He’d do four hours of uphill power walking interspersed with interval sprints. It’s all a matter of perspective.” I gesture at the dead bodies. “You could run in circles, but I figured you’d get bored. And to be honest, it’s good to work different muscle groups. Jumping over and dodging around zombies is valuable practice for what you’ll encounter out there. And it’s good to remember exactly what is out there.” I point to the world outside the dorm building. “Come on. I’ll show you the next station.”
“Station?” Lila says. “What are you talking about?”
“I set up three endurance training stations,” I reply. “You’ll rotate through them. Today, you’ll do each station for twenty minutes. We add five minutes every third day until you get to a four-hour workout. That’s a good endurance base.”
“Four hours?” Reed exclaims. “Just because you’re my mama doesn’t mean you can abuse me.”
“This is what it takes,” I reply. “You need to be strong. All of you. I’m going to make you strong.”
The grumbling continues. I take them back into the stairwell, which I’ve cleared of all debris and set up with cups and a water pitcher.
“Stair repeats,” I tell them. “You don’t have to run them. Just go up and down as fast as you can.”
Reed groans. “I’m going to die. Just kill me now, Mama.”
We head upstairs to the third floor, where I’ve set up the last station.
“What are these?” Johnny hefts one of three backpacks I’ve staged just inside the door. Each weighs seven to ten pounds.
“Weight training,” I reply. “We might have to move with supplies on our backs like we did last night. Supplies can be the difference between living and dying. Jog up and down the hall with the backpacks. When you get tired, speed walk. When you’re too tired for that, just walk. The most important thing is to be on your feet and moving.”
“You’re sadistic. I’m not doing any of this.” Lila storms away, the stairwell door slamming shut behind her.
“Anyone else?” I ask those that remain.
They hesitate, looking at one another, each waiting for someone else to speak.
Jenna and Carter are the only ones who don’t look like they’ve been hit with a fifty-pound sack of rice. If anything, Jenna looks eager; that’s the track girl inside of her. Carter looks resigned, probably because he’s witnessed crazy training routines his entire life. He knows what’s in store for him.
Eric, Reed, and Johnny look like they want to melt into the floor. But none of them leave. The fact they’re still here listening makes me proud of them. The mental aspect of ultrarunning is seventy-five percent of the game.
“When do we start?” Jenna asks.
“Right now,” I reply. “Put on your shoes and some workout clothes. I expect everyone back here in fifteen minutes.”
*
I ASSIGN CARTER AND Jenna to the first-floor zombie obstacle course. Reed and Eric are sent to the weight station. I pair up with Johnny and tackle the stairs.
I pick up the old-fashioned kitchen timer I found in a drawer and turn it to twenty minutes. Johnny takes off at a run, tearing up the stairs. I start at a fast power hike.
Five minutes into the exercise, I pass Johnny. Sweat drips down his nose and temples.
“This sucks,” he wheezes.
“I used to do hill repeats with my running buddy,” I tell him as I plow past. “There was a hill near my house one mile straight up. The views were great. We would go up and down that hill four or five times. It was great for building climbing muscles.”
This time, he only grunts in response. I take this as a good sign. I need to wear him out. I need to wear them all out. Push them to the point of exhaustion, let them rest, then do it all again. It’s the only way to make them stronger.
When the kitchen timer dings to signal the first twenty minutes is over, Johnny looks like he’s been in a sauna for two hours. His face is red and his clothes are drenched in sweat. Even his sideburns glisten with perspiration.
“Two more intervals, then you’re done for today,” I tell him cheerfully.
“I think maybe I should have tried to work out once or twice a week instead of, you know, screwing around on the ham in all my free time,” Johnny says.
“Exercise is now a survival tactic,” I reply. “You can put that in your book. Come on.”
We enter the first floor as Jenna and Carter are finishing their workout. Jenna’s cheeks are flushed, but her eyes are bright.
“I should have kept up with running after I graduated,” she says. “I’m out of shape.”
“I think I have a new idea for a beer name,” Carter says. “Just because we can’t have a mobile beer business doesn’t mean we can’t make beer, babe.”
“What’s the name?” Jenna asks.
“Obstacle.”
Jenna’s eyes light up. “I have some label ideas. I’ll sketch them out when we’re finished.”
“They’re too chipper for their own good,” Johnny grumbles, but he resolutely accompanies me into the zombie obstacle course I’ve created.
“Fast as you can,” I tell Johnny. “Back and forth as many times as you can. Ready?” I hold up the kitchen timer.
“No, but yeah,” he says.
We’re off, charging around the room side by side. All told, it’s three or four hundred yards long.
“Tell me again why you thought bringing bodies in here was a good idea?” Johnny asks when we reach the far wall, turn around, and start back the other way.
“Life isn’t a smooth all-weather track,” I reply. “Last night, when we were running through Arcata, there were obstacles everywhere. Bodies underfoot. Zombies coming after us. Cars to dodge around. You have to train yourself to be aware of your surroundings, particularly of your next few steps. You always need to watch the terrain in front of you. This gives your brain time to make adjustments for any obstacle you might encounter. You’re basically getting a two-for-one on this part of the course. Endurance and environmental awareness.”
“You couldn’t have used a coffee table or something instead?” he gasps. “There’s perfectly good furniture everywhere.”
“I wanted to give you guys a realistic simulation of what you would encounter outside.”
The stink is bad. I may have been a little too enthusiastic when I dragged the bodies in here. I’ll replace them with furniture tomorrow, but for now, I hope they serve as reminders of the danger that awaits outside.
We reach the end of the lounge, turn around, and start back the other way. Johnny sucks in great gulps of air, still tired from the short stairwell workout.
We run a few more laps, Johnny falling behind with each one. I slow my steps to stay in sync with him.
“How are the shoes?” I ask him.
“Huh?”
“The shoes. You helped me pick them out last night. How do they feel?”
He scowls, which tells me how much of a toll this workout is taking on him. “Like shoes.”
“Pay attention to your feet. If you start to feel any abnormal pain, let me know. There was a time I ran a one-hundred-kilometer race with my laces too tight. I ended up with a giant bruise on the top of one foot. It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. During the run, I thought I had a stress fracture. I didn’t want to be pulled from the race so I kept running. If I’d just taken off my shoe and inspected my foot, I would have figured out what was going on. It would have made the last twenty miles much easier. My point is, pay attention to the little things. Don’t let them become big things.”
Johnny grunts. We continue back and forth until the timer dings, then head upstairs for the last part of the course.
This time, we pass Reed and Eric as they drag themselves down to the first floor. Reed has pulled his hair into a tight ponytail that stands over his head like a nuclear cloud. Eric looks at me and says, “I hear weed can provide pain relief to endurance athletes.”
“Not on my watch,” I reply. “You guys need to learn to function through pain. If you insist on smoking, save it until the workout is over.”
“You just told us we have to function through pain,” Eric says, staring at me like I’m crazy. “Who says stuff like that?”
“That’s the whole point of this type of training. Didn’t you all hurt like hell on our run back to Creekside last night?” I wait for their nods. “What if we have to run twice as far next time? Or farther? You’re going to hurt. You have to learn how to mentally and physically keep going when your body hurts.”
“Carter,” Eric yells up the stairwell, “you didn’t tell us your mom is a certified masochist.”
I shrug, dragging Johnny with me up the stairs to the third floor. When I hand him the weighted backpack, he groans and shrugs into it.
“Think of it this way,” I tell him. “When I decide to share my story with you, you’ll have firsthand knowledge to add to the writing.”
“I’m reconsidering our deal,” he replies sourly. “Maybe I don’t want to write your story as much as I thought I did.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “You’ll be thankful you put in the work the next time we go into town.”
I break into a jog, trotting down the corridor. The backpack bounces against my spine and lower back as I run. It’s a regular college backpack, not one of the running packs we snagged from Trading Post last night. I’m saving those to make bug-out bags for everyone.
I hear zombies bump against the closed doors of the dorm rooms. They scratch and moan against the wood, agitated by our presence. As I continue up and down the long hallway, I make a mental note to get everyone up here and clear the floor as soon as possible.
Johnny doesn’t even try to keep up with me. Misery paints his face.
“There are some ultras that require runners to carry a certain amount of gear for safety precautions,” I say, attempting to distract him from his physical discomfort. “Solar blankets, crampons for shoes, even extra food and water and emergency kits. Stuff like that. Just think of this as a chance to get strong enough to carry everything essential for survival on your back.”
“How ... can ... you ... talk ... so ... much?” Johnny bursts out, taking in big gulps of air between each word.
“Practice,” I reply.
When the timer dings, Johnny throws the pack to the ground and collapses beside it.
“I am one out of shape fucker.” He sags against the wall.
“For now,” I say. “Just keep up the work. It will get easier.” Then I’ll crank up the workouts to make them uncomfortable again, but I don’t say this last part aloud.
Out in the stairwell, Carter and the others gather to drink from the pitcher and cups I set up. Lila passes around her container of CBD salve. Everyone is sweaty and tired.
Eric in particular looks pissed. “That was fucked up.”
“She’s trying to help us,” Jenna cuts in.
“I know!” Eric shouts. “But it totally sucked.”
I down a cup of water and return to the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Carter asks.
“I have another few hours of exercise.”
“Show off,” Johnny says.
I ignore the comment. These kids have to see where each of them needs to be. What they have to train their bodies to do in order to become stronger.
When I reach the second-story landing, I hear Reed say, “Fuck this. I don’t want to die.”
His feet tap on the stairs as he hurries to catch up with me. I wait for him.
“How long do you plan to go?” he asks me.
“Three hours, maybe four.”
“I’m doing it with you. Fuck this interval training shit. I want to be stronger right now. If Mr. Rosario’s goons show up, I want to be able to run far and fast.”
Pride swells in my chest. I grin at the young man beside me, at the sliver of a future ultrarunner peeking out from behind dark eyes and nuclear cloud afro. “Let’s go.”
*
REED AND I BECOME A live action show. Everyone, even Lila, brings out folding chairs and takes up residence on various landings to watch us.
Johnny has his ham radio, relating a blow-by-blow of our workout routine to Alvarez on the other end. Eric, not surprisingly, has a fresh joint in his hand and puffs away, slumped in his chair with his eyes closed. Reed and I are about forty minutes into our workout when Carter and Jenna show up with fresh popcorn.
“Who knew you could make popcorn on the barbecue?” Jenna says, grinning at me as we head upstairs to the weight segment.
“Mom, we brought you some trail mix,” Carter says, handing me a bag as we pass him.
“Thanks, sweetie.” I hold the bag out to Reed. “It’s important to stay fueled. Eat some.”
He does, and we head to the third floor to grab the weighted bags. We finish the set, then start all over again.
I’m starting to feel good, to slide into the state of a runner’s high. I’m leaping over zombies, pumping my arms, and enjoying the feeling of my body’s exertion.
That’s when Reed doubles over and pukes all over the floor.
The sound brings everyone running.
“Dude, Reed is now puking all over the feet of a zombie corpse,” Johnny reports into the ham.
“That’s twice now,” Jenna observes.
“Mom always pukes during her ultras,” Carter adds.
“Not always,” I reply. “Just sometimes.” I pat Reed between the shoulder blades. “It happens as your body diverts energy to fueling your limbs. There’s nothing left to digest the food.”
Reed heaves again, bits of trail mix and a brownish mix of whatever he had for breakfast also coming up. I’d say the smell was bad, but it isn’t even a blip in the all-encompassing stench of the zombie bodies.
Jenna produces a towel from one of the rooms, handing it to Reed so he can wipe his mouth and face. Carter hands him a bottle of water.
“You okay?” I ask Reed.
He nods, holding himself steady with one hand against the wall.
“Good. Let’s finish the set.”
“You’re making him do more?” Lila asks, mouth hanging open.
“If zombies were chasing you, would you stop because you threw up?” I reply. “There were points last night when stopping wasn’t an option.”
Reed, face pinched from discomfort, shakes his head. “I’m good. Let’s go, Mama.”