Unexpected

Pushing It to the Limit

It's incredible how over the few days of a weekend one can forget the pure cruelty of an alarm clock. Groaning I turned over in bed to glare at the digital numbers announcing the unholy hour of the morning that I had to wake up at. Luckily for me, I was an early riser by nature so by the time I had pulled on some sweat pant capris and a work out tank top, I was pretty much awake. Also the fact that I blared my playlist of Fifties music I had created with Steve on Saturday with songs from Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley, Bing Crosby and other popular singers of the decade as I went through my morning routine and as I made my way through the streets of D.C. to the Triskelion.

Arriving at the gym, I looked around for the familiar curly head of red hair, but finding that Romanoff was nowhere to be seen I decided to start working on some stretches as I waited for her. Music coursed through my ear buds as I warmed up my muscles, but even when I had gone through all of my stretches Natasha had shown me, I decided to start on my cardio. Setting myself up on a treadmill, I started slowly with a peaceful walk, then as a Skillet song came up I sped up into a 'comfortable' jog. By 'comfortable' I mean that I was dying slowly instead of a faster pace that would have zapped me of my endurance in a second. I allowed my mind to get lost in the words of the song "Eye of the Tiger", trying to distract myself from how much I hated the sweat that was prickling my face and the heat that was enveloping my body. As I went I was surprised and rather happy, if one could use that word while going through the torture that is exercise, to find that my bad ankle gave no indication of its previous pains. It looked like I was back to peak health!

"Well, few things warm my heart as much as seeing a trainee taking a bit of initiative." Natasha's voice suddenly cut through an instrumental section of "Every Time We Touch" by Cascada. I dropped my eyes down to see the petite red head smirking up at me. How could she just appear out of nowhere like that? Sure I had been spaced out but seriously. It was almost scary how quiet she could be.

"Initiative?" I panted with a huffed laugh, "Hardly." I reached forward and started pressing the button that slowed my pace.

"Nuh uh," Natasha swatted at my hand, "Your ankle's better? That means we're going to work it. Let's see how fast you can go." Smacking my hand out of the way again she pressed the button to increase my pace until I was too focused on keeping up to try to mess with the controls anymore. "How long have you been running?"

"Not too long, couple of songs?" I gasped in between ragged breaths. After that I didn't speak at all, putting all my breath and focus onto my legs. Keep up the pace. Ow, my legs hurt. I hate running, hate it, hate it, hate it. I'm slipping back. I can't keep up." Grabbing at the emergency cord that stops the machine when pulled I slowed down. My side pinched at me and each breath felt like I was breathing in a scratching, burning sand storm. After a few gulps of breath I swiped my arm across my sweaty forehead then grabbed at my water bottle, almost choking on the draughts of liquid.

"Not bad for starters." Agent Romanoff said, crossing her arms and coming to stand beside me as I wobbled off the machine, "We're going to have to work on your endurance though."

"You know, you make it difficult to miss you sometimes." I panted, standing up straight again and squirting more water into my parched mouth.

Natasha chuckled, "I suppose I do. Let's get back to work."

We worked through several machines, working my legs, glutes, arms, and abs for an hour, Romanoff trying to use words of encouragement to push me along. However, the words didn't seem quite right coming from the sassy, quick witted super spy, and we both agreed that it just wasn't working.

"I'm done." I puffed, trying to shake my arms out as I released the bar I had been doing pull ups on.

"You've only done eight."