‘What do you read about?’
‘Movement. The body. The mind. I didn’t realize I had the power to train myself all these years. I let myself be at the whim of everything and everyone else.’
‘You know now. Do you want to join me for lunch?’
In the café across the road, Vit tells me stories about his youth in Croatia, living in a tower block apartment. He remembers the war, but only a little. He was obsessed with video games and played them in a dark room.
‘Sun would shine for long hours. Clear blue skies. Things were improving in my country. But I was a shy kid. My mother tried to get me out of the apartment. The beach was one kilometre away. The Adriatic on my doorstep but I refused everything until she signed me up for boxing lessons. I had confidence to go because of Ready 2 Rumble.’
‘Is that a game?’
He smiles sheepishly. ‘Yes. It wasn’t the same to fight with a console as to be in a ring but it was the incentive for me to try. There was a Croat character, Boris Knokimov, but I wanted to be Afro Thunder.’ He puts on an American accent and says, ‘Light as a feather and fast as a locomotive.’
I smile.
‘I discovered my talent and that was that.’
After we eat, I ask, ‘Vit, if you gave me your lesson plan for spin, could I suggest some music for it? For one class. If you don’t like it, that’s fine. It’d give me something to do for the rest of the afternoon break.’
‘Yeah, sure. But you’ll have to match the beats per minute with the—’
‘Revolutions per minute, I know,’ I say.
He follows me across to the gym, jogs to the spin room and comes back with a page. ‘I will run this one in the evening.’
He goes home for the rest of the gap, and I hunt online, picking music to match the plan.
Time flows until he returns.
I give him the tracklist.
‘You coming to this session?’
‘No, I’ll be out front.’
After the class a bunch of drenched spinners walk by the desk to go home. I watch for signs of them being happier or moved by the music. They seem the same as usual.
Vitomir is impressed. ‘That entertained me. You can pick my music next week again, if you’d like. It’s not really my thing.’
‘I’d love to.’
I change the song selection but still suit the exercises. More people sign up to the class, which has twenty-five bikes. There’d be on average sixteen people in for evening spin but after three weeks of different music, word-of-mouth spreads and Vit fills the lessons. For some classes there’s a waitlist.
James notices the upsurge in numbers.
‘What’s he doing differently? It’s been static all year and now this?’
Vitomir’s amber eyes are bright. ‘Natalie puts together music for me.’
James’s face creases. ‘Do you want to put some playlists together for my class too? I can never be arsed with the music. I’d throw in some free personal training in exchange for them?’
I say, ‘Sure.’
A month later, I give Vitomir a new music outline and run through how the songs will match the exercises.
He walks away then stops. Turns back. ‘Natalie, you know a lot about this world. You care a lot about these plans. You ask me about muscles and stretches and modifications. Why?’
‘I’m interested.’
‘This is more than an interest.’
I don’t say anything.
He holds eye contact with me, waiting.
I tuck my hair behind my ears. ‘I trained as an instructor. Because I ran these spin classes before. In my hometown. They were imaginary trips as opposed to a hard workout. I wanted to take the seriousness out of the whole thing. Make it less daunting for people, but probably mostly for myself.’
He comes closer. ‘What were they?’
‘I’d bring the participants to different places, have it researched with information and music. Try and make it atmospheric. Educational. It might have been silly but I liked it.’
‘Why haven’t you said anything here?’
‘About what?’
‘About this?’
‘Because the more I learn, the more I realize how utterly shite I am at this whole thing. I’m so inept physically.’
‘I call bullshit.’
This stings. ‘It’s not.’
‘You’re afraid.’
‘I’m not. I’m just not any good. I don’t have a background in it, how could anyone take me seriously?’
‘How do you usually overcome your fear?’
‘Vit, it’s cool,’ I stutter. ‘I love working here. I’m really content with how things are. I’m learning.’
‘Natalie, the person who shadowboxes in the corner will never succeed. You gotta get in the ring. Throw a few punches. Take a few.’
‘I will. In the future, I’ll know enough and be trained enough to do my plans.’
‘Nobody is ever ready, Natalie. Start where you are. Tomorrow morning, you’re teaching my first spin session. I’ll be there. People can sign themselves in.’
‘No, Vit, I appreciate the offer. But no, it’s okay.’
‘It’s not okay. See you in the morning.’
I quickly scan the format and check my playlist. I try to breathe evenly as people come in and adjust their bikes.
‘Hi, I’m Natalie and I’m your instructor. Anyone have any injuries or medical conditions I need to know about? No? Okay. We’re gonna get refreshed for the day ahead with this session. Let’s warm up our muscles now with a jog of a cycle, adding resistance at the chorus…’
After class, a good few of them thank me before scurrying out.
‘It didn’t even feel like an exercise class,’ one woman says. ‘Are you doing any other mornings?’
Vit punches my shoulder gently. ‘Good work.’
I smile.
The woman turns to him and enquires about his next ab-blaster session.
‘Are you the one from the reception?’ a man asks.
‘Yes,’ I say.
He twists his mouth into a funny shape and turns his head to the side. He looks me up and down. ‘You did a good job there, considering all this.’
‘All what?’
‘This,’ he says and traces an outline of my body with his hands.
I should let it go but I say, ‘Your comments on my body inform me on how you view your body.’
‘What?’
‘When you judge me, it tells me more about you and how you see yourself and the world, than enlightening me about how I feel in my own skin,’ I say.
‘Fuck, sorry, wait, I didn’t even know I was doing that. I was trying to compliment you. You don’t look like the typical instructor but that was a fun class. I’d like to come to your sessions again. It’s good to have a new face teaching.’
After first shift, Vit tells James about me leading the class in the morning and James storms up to the front desk.
‘This isn’t on, Natalie,’ he says.
Fuck.
‘I know,’ I say. I almost begin packing my stuff away in anticipation for another firing. ‘I have a cert, so you would be covered at least for insurance. Sorry, James.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything before now?’
‘Because I’ve been trying to learn more.’
‘What more do you have to learn?’
‘I have to get stronger and be more assured and create some plans—’
‘You’re overthinking it.’
‘No, I want to be prepared well.’
He tuts. ‘Your generation and information bias. I blame the internet. And universities.’
‘For what?’
‘Overeducation. You think you need to know it all before you can do something. Think think think. Know know know. Speaking to a personal trainer isn’t the same as training. Making a plan for a session isn’t teaching it.’
‘I want to know enough, be good enough.’