… BAM walks back to his seat and sits. He shakes his head.
BAM
Man-oh-man, I can’t believe you have his picture hanging on your wall. How do you know him? Wait, did he have to come and see you. You know, did he need his head sorting? Was he do-lally too? I bet I know what it was. Wait a minute… Hold on. It’s on the tip of my...
Beat
Both of them.
DR LOOPER
What ?
BAM
Both of them. PEDS and people who count downhill dashes as pr’s – they both get my, what was it you called it? Oh yeah, my goat. Both cheaters. PEDS is obvious but the Down-hillers are as bad. Worse.
DR LOOPER
From that, I take it that you’re a moral absolutist?
BAM
Imagine the torment the down-hillers must suffer. That little voice nagging away in their heads, “Liar. Cheat. Fraudster. You’re only bluffing yourself. Add 5 minutes onto your marathon pr and then you might be close.”
DR LOOPER
Do you really believe that?
BAM
I can see them now, you know, at work in the office as they hobble over to the water machine, hoping somebody will ask what’s wrong with them. Even the slightest chance to regale some nobody with how they pr’ed on the weekend. Of course, they’ll start with how they started training 12 weeks back, building the miles, increasing the tempo runs, dropping in the speed work in the wind and rain and snow and all of this when they were suffering with folliculitis on the big toe of their right foot.
DR LOOPER scribbles down notes on his pad. He stops and scratches his beard.
BAM
Then they give it the big chat, “knocked 2 minutes off my time and if I can get my fuelling right, I might just knock another couple of minutes off my pr.” The work colleague scurries away and spends the rest of the week avoiding the fruitcake. But the nutter’s there at home, telling all and sundry how everybody at the office wanted to know.
DR LOOPER flips over a page and continues writing – smoke’s coming off the paper.
BAM
But then when they’re in bed at night, the little voice comes out and plagues the hell out of them. “Cheat. Bluffer. You haven’t got the stones to run a marathon on a legit course. Because if you did, your family and your colleagues would treat you as though you were somebody with chronic halitosis; the world would see your soul – they'd see you for what you really are – nothing. Squat. Worse than that, they’d know that you’re merely a jogger”
DR LOOPER
What’s your marathon pr, Bam?
BAM looks at him. LOOPER stares right back at BAM. Through him. Bam’s phone dances on the table.
BAM
I better get that; it might be about the cat.
DR LOOPER nods. BAM picks up the phone.
BAM
Hello.
Beat
OK Sweetness and Light, I better go. I’m with DR LOOPER.
BAM places the phone on the desk and shuffles back in his chair.
BAM
‘Twas the gaffer. She said that the cat didn’t make it. I’m in for a rough few weeks.
DR LOOPER
I asked you about your marathon pr.
BAM
Poor cat. Maybe I had been overtraining. Shouldn’t have thrown it out the bathroom window.
DR LOOPER
Your marathon pr?
BAM
What do you do with a dead cat? Can you bury them in the garden or do you have to take them to the undertakers? They don’t teach this stuff at school.
DR LOOPER
Your marathon pr? Any pr?
BAM
The kids will go nuts. They might cut up my skipping rope and I won’t be able to do my AIS. Jakers! Sorry Doc, where were we?
DR LOOPER
I think we’ll move on. I want to talk to you about balance. Balance in your life. I’ve been doing this job for twenty odd years now and I’ve yet to come across a jogger who leads a balanced life.
BAM
I haven’t run a marathon yet. But in two years time when I’m fifty, I’m going to break the world record for the 50-55 age category.
DR LOOPER
Is that right?
DR LOOPER starts writing again. He’s shaking his head.
BAM
I’ve spent fifteen months getting back into running, building the miles, strengthening the tendons and ligaments and all that sort of malarkey. Once I get over this butt crap, I’ll be ready to go. Being injured is like being constipated: you’re dieing to go but you can’t. Once you do get going again, there’s no stopping you.
DR LOOPER
Do you really believe you can break the world record?
BAM
Hold on a sec, Doc. But did you just call me a jogger? No offence, but if you ever call me a jogger again, I’ll knock you out.
DR LOOPER
Bam, you’re what, 138lbs? I’m 200lbs of beef. I workout and I’m a Master of Brazilian jujitsu.
BAM
The world record’s only 2:19 something.
DR LOOPER
Times up Bam. Tomorrow I want you to come to my clinic. We’ve got some serious work to do.
BAM
Compression socks.
DR LOOPER
What?
BAM
Compression socks get my goat.
DR LOOPER
Why on earth do compression socks get your goat?
BAM
Think about it, Doc. Women look ridiculous in compression socks, you know, the whole Britney thing and all that. Serious fashion faux pas. But I don’t profess to understand the female psyche. But men in compression socks is one step too far. Any man who wears compression socks should be stripped and flogged in public. If my wife saw me in compression socks she’d say, “Why Bam, what are you doing? It isn’t the weekend.”
DR LOOPER
Times up Bam, we will carry on with this tomorrow – in my clinic.
BAM leaves. DR LOOPER puts his head in his hands and then buzzes his secretary.
DR LOOPER
Mary will you bring me in some ibuprofen. I have a migraine.
MARY
Ok. Your wife dropped off your gym kit. She said to tell you that if you look in the side pocket of your bag, you’ll find your compression socks.
a.m. 6 miles easy on an honest loop. I swear I wasn’t wearing compression socksJ | 