by Larence Gold
“You’ve been in a bad mood for three years, Roberta. Aren’t you sick of it? I know that I am.”
“You think I have a choice in the matter? You think I like being this way?”
“Yes, I think you’re getting something out of that.”
They talked for the next thirty minutes and Izzy didn’t once check the time. Nearing the end of the session, Roberta stopped speaking and stared at Izzy.
Izzy looked up. “What?”
“I’m hearing a lot of chatter about you.”
“What kind of chatter,” Izzy asked.
“A few cable sports talk show jocks are speculating that your performance is way beyond what any athlete, especially one of your age, could achieve legitimately. People are talking about it. I may be a pain in the ass, especially for you, but I know that cheating in any way is out of character for you.”
Izzy felt nauseated and suddenly weak.
“Are you okay, Doc? You’re white as a sheet.”
“The thought that people would even consider such a thing makes me sick.”
“Don’t let it upset you, Izzy. It’s just talk and part of being in the public eye. Remind me never to become famous; I don’t think it’s worth it.”
When Izzy got home, she sat with Ross on the rear deck sipping wine. She repeated her conversation with Roberta. “It really upset me.”
“I’d be upset, too, but it doesn’t surprise me. We live in a culture where cheating has become the norm. Look at professional athletes and steroids, crooked legislators, and corporate types; they wouldn’t recognize corruption if it bit them in the ass. Success breeds suspicion and you’ve been more than a little successful.”
“Maybe I should quit? It’s unfair to me and to my family.”
“You’re not going to quit and you shouldn’t. You’ve become a public figure, but you haven’t yet developed the thick skin to go with it.”
“That’s the problem,” Izzy said. “It’s not an intellectual question since I know the charges are false. It’s my reaction and the associated pain that troubles me. It suggests a vulnerability that I can’t control.”
Ross squeezed her hand. “Let’s add this to any number of factors that we can’t control and must endure. We shouldn’t get into this. Why don’t you discuss this with Abbie?”
At their next training session, Izzy approached Hunter. “I’m so glad we both qualified. You must be thrilled.”
When Izzy tried to hug Hunter, she backed away. “Please don’t.”
Izzy tightened her fists. “I can only guess the strain you’re under and if you want me to think of you as a self-involved, callous, and pretentious b…,” She stifled the word, “I’ll try.”
Mitch, listening in, interrupted. “Feels good, doesn’t it, Izzy?”
“No, Mitch. It doesn’t. It’s self-indulgent and unprofessional.”
“I’m the only professional who counts, here. What you said needed saying.”
They both turned to face Hunter.
Hunter crossed her arms. “I don’t care what either of you say. I’m not quitting—you can’t make me quit.”
Mitch placed his arm across Hunter’s shoulder and when she tried to pull away, he held her fast. “In her own unique way, Izzy was offering you an olive branch and so was I. We want to help you, and will if you just let your defenses down long enough for us to try.”
Hunter placed her hands to her face and wept.
Izzy felt her own eyes filling.
Hunter looked up. Her face was wet from crying. “Nothing I do will ever please that man. I’m sick of trying.”
Izzy reached into her pack and handed Hunter a tissue. “Trust me. I know exactly how you feel.”
After they finished their workout for the day, Mitch turned to Izzy and Hunter. “Good running today, especially for you, Hunter. I think you’re both on the brink of major improvement.”
“Thank God,” Hunter said.
Izzy studied Mitch. “What’s it going to take? I thought we were maxed-out on training.”
“No magic. Your lives are mine from today through the Napa Marathon and to the starting line in Boston. Your job is to survive my training schedule intact. I know what it takes to win and you both have that potential.”
He turned to Izzy. “And what can I say about you except you’re a phenom…a once in a lifetime runner.” He shook his head. “And, jerk that I am, I tried to brush you off.”
Izzy faced Mitch. “You’ve heard all the cable and talk radio speculation about me, haven’t you?”
“I’ve heard the same shit about every successful sports competitor. I hate it, but I’m afraid to say that’s the price for success. I heard it about me and just about every winner I trained. You have to live with it and not let it get you down.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Hunter sneered. “You’re perfect at everything else, why not this?”
Mitch tightened his jaw. “Damnit, Hunter. Everything’s grist for your mill…”
“Don’t…,” Izzy said.
“Hell I won’t. I can’t imagine what it’s like to live inside your head, Hunter. You and Daddy are a made in hell.”
Hunter stood upright and faced Mitch. “I’ve had enough of your shit. I think it’s time for a change. I won’t be needing your services anymore.”
Mitch smiled. “Thank God. Let me refer you to a marathon trainer that I especially dislike.”
Mitch and Izzy watched as Hunter strode to her BMW, got in, and drove away, never looking back.
“I feel terrible about this, Mitch.”
“The girl’s insufferable. Good riddance.” Mitch smiled at Izzy. “If you feel terrible now, just wait. From here on, you’re going to have my undivided attention.”
“You did what?” Cedric shouted.
“It’s no big deal, Daddy,” Hunter said, “I wasn’t going to take anymore of their crap.”
“Their?”
“Yes, both Izzy and Mitch,” she said. “You didn’t raise a daughter who would tolerate disrespect.”
Cedric smiled with parental pride. “Okay, sweetheart, but that does leave us with a problem. Who will train you for Napa?”
“You’ll find someone, Daddy, but it doesn’t matter much since I have Mitch’s training schedule and know all of his techniques.”
“Don’t be glib about this race. It’s important and sets the stage for Boston.”
Hunter hesitated, and then said, “It’s a mistake to have unrealistic expectations about the Boston Marathon, Daddy. There are good reasons that winners are frequently African. I don’t see how I can compete with that.”
“Mitch thought both you and Izzy could win,” Cedric said. “What’s different now?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.”
“Blakes are winners. We’ve always been winners, and we’re not going to stop now.”
Chapter Nineteen
It was mid-February; a month after the Redding Marathon, and Izzy had invited Jodie for coffee after work. They were sitting under a striped umbrella outside a small coffee shop adjacent to the Rockridge Bart station.
“I’m glad you called, Izzy. We don’t see much of you these days.”
“I’m sorry. With training and my celebrity status, I just don’t have much time for myself or,” she smiled, “for the little people.”
Jodie laughed. “I heard that CBS Sunday Morning is doing a piece on you.”
“Yes. I’ve been leery of the media, but I love that program.”
“You’re going to need an agent or a representative to optimize your time and arrange for product endorsements. You must be getting offers by now.”
Izzy smiled. “My life’s dream fulfilled; the opportunity to represent Fixodent Denture Adhesive, Life Alert, The Clapper, and my all-time favorite, Depends.”
Jodie smiled. “You exaggerate?”
“Only a little. I hate endorsements, but if they pay enough, I’ll come to love them. I’ll find a
way to endorse and soothe my conscience at the same time.”
“You don’t really need the money, Izzy.”
“How much is enough? Anyway, Botox is expensive.”
“You’re not really into all that, are you?” Jodie asked.
Izzy looked up in thought. “Botox, fillers, dermabrasion, and mini-lifts…now I can do all and write them off as a business expense. Gotta look good on the commercials. It’s not vanity, Jodie, it’s business.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Of course I’m kidding. If Ross wants youth, he can just go to Craig’s List.”
“Yes, but he might come back with something requiring penicillin.”
Izzy laughed. “No chance of that. I have the man spoiled.”
“Right,” Jodie said smirking. “Getting back to endorsements, have your agent solicit offers for products and services you already use. That way you can remain pure.”
“I don’t have an agent.”
“Get one.”
“Maybe Jennifer would like to do it.”
Jodie shook her head. “Do you get along with Jennifer?”
“Of course.”
“Do you want to keep it that way?”
“Yes.”
“Then, be smart, Izzy. Don’t go into business with any friend or relative, even a sweetheart like Jennifer.”
“You’re a cynic.”
“No, Izzy. I’m a realist and I know from experience that mixing business and family is a formula for disaster.” Jodie paused. “What’s your next milestone?”
“The Napa Valley Marathon in early March.”
“How’s your training going? Are you progressing?”
Izzy sipped her latte and paused for a long moment. “It’s going, but I’ve reached a plateau. I’m working hard, but my times are static or a bit worse. I’ve been doing additional cross-training on my off days, but still no progress.”
“Does Mitch know you’re doing more training on your own?”
“I haven’t talked about it.”
“That’s a mistake, Izzy. You may be overdoing it, and Mitch should know what you’re about.”
“I need a breakthrough,” Izzy said. “Are you doing anything in the lab that might help?”
“Sports training centers across the globe have programs using VR, Virtual Reality. One program in Canada, ‘Own the Podium’ had trained athletes for the last Olympic games. We’re doing some VR, too, but our program, like most, focuses on motivation and elimination of the stress reactions that impair performance. I don’t know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me to discover that you’re having problems with motivation or stress.”
“You must be doing something in the lab that might help me, Jodie?”
“We’ve demonstrated that VR training can enhance athletic performance by teaching athletes to switch between a relaxed state and a super-focused state without wasting any physiological resources.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“In addition,” Jodie said, “we have a study designed to answer the question: Can VR training induce cortical reorganization?”
“You mean, actually changing the brain?”
Jodie smiled and nodded.
Izzy cocked her head as if she were listening to something. “I’m hearing the theme music from The Twilight Zone.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” Jodie said.
“And none of this involves performance enhancing drugs?”
“No drugs at all. Drugs would invalidate what we’re trying to study.”
Izzy smiled. “I’m in.”
“Hold your horses. I’m not a free agent. I have to run it past my boss, although you have a leg up as an outlier. People in the lab really want to know what has made you so successful.”
That evening, Izzy and Ross were sitting on the den sofa. She paraphrased her conversation with Jodie. “I’m going to give it a shot.”
“With what objective?”
“You know my goal. I want to do the best I can in the Napa Valley and the Boston Marathon.”
“You mean you’re not doing the best you can now?”
“I can swing at a tennis ball a thousand times and not get any better until a pro shows me the error of my ways.”
Ross shook his head. “You wouldn’t buy that rationalization from a patient and I’m not buying it from you. I’ve said as much as I should. Remember, we have a deal.”
“That’s a cop-out. Tell me what you think, not what’s in your psychiatrist head.”
“No can do, sweetheart. I cherish our marriage and if I get you on the couch, it won’t be for therapy.”
“Now, you’re pissing me off, Ross.”
“See. I haven’t said a damn thing and you’re already angry.”
Izzy’s eyes filled. “I trust you. I ask for help and you put me off. Why don’t you trust me?”
Ross laughed. “Upping the ante’s dirty pool.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I know the literature on VR in psychiatry. They use it mostly in phobias, where it’s easier to deal with a virtual snake or spider than real ones. None of that applies to you. Mitch can deal with technique and training, but that’s not enough for you, is it? Something’s driving you for more.”
Izzy sat for a long moment in silence, and then exploded, “Guilty…guilty…guilty. Are you satisfied now?”
“Please Izzy…”
“I’m sorry. Maybe if I spend the next ten years on an analyst’s couch, I can find an explanation.’ She paused. “Truth be told, we’re all a little crazy and soon, after the Boston Marathon, it will be over for me. Can you put up with me until then?” she pleaded.
Ross moved over to hug her. “Putting up with you is the easiest thing I do.”
As he held her, Izzy clenched her jaw slightly and stared ahead.
Chapter Twenty
At 11:30, Izzy rose from her desk, grabbed her purse, and walked into the waiting room. Connie looked up. “An early lunch?”
“No. I’m going to the gym for an easy workout.”
“Don’t overdo it, Izzy. You’re no kid. And, don’t forget your 2:15 appointment.”
Izzy nodded without responding further, grabbed her gym bag, and headed out. It was a bright and breezy day as she walked to the Institute of Cognitive and Brain Science.
Jodie greeted her as she exited the locker room. “David wants a word with you before we begin.”
David was standing by the treadmill, adjusting an array of equipment. He looked up. “Good to see you, Izzy.”
“Thanks for allowing me into your program. I really appreciate it.”
“I let you into the virtual reality program because you’ve been a big help to us. But let’s have no confusion; I’m doing it more for us than for you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re an outlier for sure and we want to know what makes you so different. I’d be misleading you if I said that VR will significantly increase your performance. If helping us isn’t enough, maybe you should reconsider.”
Izzy smiled. “You’re an honest man, David. You’ve provided me with the disclaimer, but I may have more faith in the technique than you do. VR training programs are hot.”
“We don’t do hot, we do science,” David said. “We don’t hype anything. One day, if we can confirm the benefits, I’ll start my own VR firm and go from a poor professor to a wealthy entrepreneur.”
“If you need seed money, count me in.”
“We’ll start today to get you familiar with the equipment and hope to get some baseline readings.”
Izzy sat next to the treadmill while David and a tech taped sensors to her running shoes and legs, and had her put on wired gloves. He held the mouthpiece, the cardiographic leads, and the oxygen saturation sensor. “You’re familiar with these from the physiological tests?”
“Yes. I especially love the mouthpiece. It tastes like a garden hose.”
“Not to worry, Izzy. It’s disposable
, one use only.”
David held up the helmet-like head-mounted display (HMD) with attached earphones and a large data cable running to a computer. “Believe it or not, we’ve kept the weight of the contraption down as much as possible so the device doesn’t interfere with the total immersion we’re seeking. It’ll feel weird, but you’ll get used to it.”
Izzy pointed to the cable. “I can’t believe that you’re still using wired connections.”
“We’re doing what we can within our meager budget, but in a week or two, we’ll be wireless.”
“Will you monitor all my physiological parameters each time?”
“No,” David said. “Once we establish your baseline data, we’ll repeat them every few weeks to see if they’re changing.” He paused. “Are you ready?”
“Sure. Let’s go for it.”
“When you look at yourself, you’ll be seeing your avatar, a computer-generated representation of your body.”
“Can I choose my avatar, say one forty years younger?”
“Not yet.”
“Well,” she smirked, “can you at least Photoshop out my varicose veins and stretch marks?”
David laughed.
After Izzy donned the HMD, she stepped onto the treadmill and started walking. The screen ahead showed a sunny day on a paved mountain road with nearly perfect representations of plants and trees. She looked down to see her legs striding over the pavement. “The only thing missing is the wind against my face.”
David smiled. “We’re working on that.”
They increased Izzy’s pace and she was running smoothly over the path with trees, plants, and ponds passing behind. Once or twice she passed by another avatar running more slowly. The treadmill speed increased, and as its angle rose, Izzy worked harder.
“You’re doing great,” Jodie said. “A few more minutes and we’re done for today.”
When Izzy reached a pace slightly greater than she used in the marathon, she glided along and hit her runner’s high shortly before they finished.
Izzy sat next to the treadmill resting and wiping the sweat away.
David approached. “Good work today. If you’re not too tired, do you have a moment for some play?”