Running In Place

By Ann Stratton

Jane's up for a promotion, or maybe just a raise, that would let her afford more than the basics. She just has to complete this project, work together with the office queen bee and her acolyte, and save the company.

 

Problem is, Carey more interested in schmoozing and Marisol has to technical expertise to speak of, which leave Jane to do everything. Including killer workouts, not enough food and expensive shopping.

 

Will Jane keep her sanity and save the day? Or will she have to start biting people?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Stratton
• Release date: Feb 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224554225

Ann Stratton

Ann Stratton started writing at age thirteen with the usual results. After a long stint in fan fiction, honing her skills, she hopes she has gotten better since then. She lives in Southeastern Arizona, trying to juggle all her varied interests. 

Book preview

Running in Place

Ann Stratton

A Blind Woman Production publication

Copyright © 2024 Ann Stratton

To give the reader more of a sample, the front matter appears at the end.

* * *

The rat race, Jane Gastelum decided, was much too much like running on a treadmill with the speed set too high and every sound generating device in the studios cranked to maximum volume while the trainer yelled at her, and the class, to go higher farther faster. It was enough to make anyone crazy.

But if she wanted to live in an actual home and eat regularly than she had to step up on that treadmill. Her office mates surrounded her on some of the other treadmills, panting and sweating and red faced and focused. The trainer, a lean muscular man in sweat wet shorts and tank top jogged easily on his own treadmill in front of the mirrored wall while shouting encouragement at the women, and a couple of men, staring at themselves in the mirror.

Jane forced herself to concentrate on the instructor and not look at the read out on the treadmill’s control panel. She hoped they were getting close to the end of the session, because her lungs were on fire, her legs were getting rubbery, her eyes were starting to spin in their sockets, and sweat splattered the drive belt under her feet.

Finally, the trainer tapped on his own control board. All right, everybody, let’s slow it down a little. We’re just coming to the finish line! Jane’s treadmill lowered slowly to a level position, the drive belt slowing a little at a time so that she wouldn’t stumble and came to a gentle stop. Jane clung to the hand rails so she wouldn’t fall down and gasped for air.

The trainer bounced down from his own treadmill, grabbed a towel from a rail and mopped his face. Good class, everybody! he exclaimed with much too much enthusiasm. He, of course, was barely breathing hard. Jane was trying hard not to throw up. Around her, her fellow classmates clung to the hand rails or collapsed on the treadmill, in much the same condition she was. You did ten miles today! That’s really fantastic! Now, don’t forget to hydrate! We have our own scientifically formulated hydration drinks for sale in the lobby and in vending machines in the locker rooms, so drink up! He picked up a plastic bottle with a bright label and acid green contents and chugged on it, barely concealing the grimace. I’ll see you all right here tomorrow, same time same channel! Have a good day! He draped his towel around his neck and headed for the door, followed by a gaggle of chatty women all clad in the latest in running gear and shoes, who draped their towels around their necks too.

Jane was too busy trying not to pass out to watch them go. She could barely hear herself think over the background music. Beside her Carey and Marisol were reviving with hydration drinks and talking about their next move. Jane listened to them with half an ear, thinking her life was indeed just a treadmill going nowhere at a high rate of speed. A lot of sound and fury, signifying nothing, while she grasped frantically at the carrot of a promotion in front of her.

She definitely wasn’t fulfilling her dreams. If she had any. She couldn’t remember if she did. Maybe when she was an idealistic teenager, determined to change the world.

What had been her grand plan? Jane couldn’t remember. All that had gone out the window the first time she had to get a job, just so she could have a roof over her head and food in her belly. Dreams had taken a second place to that particular treadmill, and fell farther behind with every step she took.

If she wanted more than that, she had to run on the treadmill, both literally and figuratively. Carey was the self appointed office queen bee and Jane had heard it was by her favor that promotions rose and fell. When she and Jane and Marisol had been assigned to this project, Carey immediately set about reshaping her into her own image, or at least something more acceptable, which included exercise classes, a restrictive diet, expensive clothes and makeup, and what was looking more and more shallow personality traits. I am a walking cliché, Jane thought, mourning her own independence.

Her legs were starting to steady. The instructor for the next class stuck her head in the door