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“I have three months to get into shape, or I’m gonna look kinda stupid.” This
is a verbose question. I want to scream “bottom line me” when she pauses again.
She takes a deep breath and resumes eye contact.
“I forgot,” she says with a laugh. “I’m talking to an engineer. You want the
bottom line. The point is…” I sigh internally. She gets me. I don’t care about the

details until I know the big picture. “I would like to ask you for a big favor. Train
me, please. I need to lose 25 pounds STAT.”
“Train you? Like a personal trainer?” I ask, slightly taken aback. I didn’t see
that coming at all. “Why not hire a professional?” She shrugs sheepishly.
“I can’t afford it. I have a hobby. I like flipping and selling houses. Well, the
project I just finished hasn’t been sold yet. All my extra money is tied up covering
the mortgage for my house and that house until it sells.” She toys with the napkin
on the table. “I can’t do the home videos because as much as I love looking at Tony
Horton, especially on the Hard Corps commercial – I mean come on, he’s outside
with his hair perfectly styled, wearing aviator shades…” She trails off without
finishing her thoughts to fan herself. She checks out white men. Interesting.
“Anyway, he’s not there to make me get off the couch and work out after a long
day of work.”

“Makes sense,” I agree. I mentally file it away the house flipping tidbit to revisit
later. “Why me?”
“Look at you!” She waves her hands in my direction. Then starts ticking off
things with her fingers. “You’re in peak physical condition; you are probably the
only person that didn’t complain about having to use the stairs today; I hear about
all of your events – you’re always doing a something K…”
I laugh. “A something K?”
“Yes!” She nods dramatically. “A 5k, 10K, 511K. A foam race, a paint race, a
singing in the rain race.” I laugh a little harder loving the over exaggeration of the
last items on each of her lists. “I mean, you had all that stuff this morning and took
the stairs like a champ. I had a purse and lunch kit and started making funeral
arrangements around the third flight of stairs.”
I raise a finger. “To be fair, women’s purses usually weigh about 20 pounds.”
She laughs, and I like the way it sounds.
“True, but I would have been just as tired without it. I’m true-to-life really out
of shape. If you don’t want to train me, could you at least be my workout buddy?