Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 138.09


Loathe as he was to admit it, he wasn't as fit as he used to be. He huffed softly and tried to keep up a decent speed, glancing up now and again to keep at least his sergeant in view if not the damned robot which had rapidly become a smear of silver among the pines and then nothing. White was mor concerned about tripping over a root or a rabbit hole and falling flat on his face. Woe betide him if he broke an ankle out here. With his mobile phone out of commission he'd have to rely on Peters finding him and going for help on foot and he could only imagine the look on the sergeants face in that event. He'd be lucky if Peters didn't see it as an opportunity for promotion.

He felt the side stitch creeping in and pressed his hand to his side to alleviate the pain. He hadn't had stitch in years. Not that he ran very often. Being generally unfit and overweight had the effect of curtailing chases before they happen. He preferred to rely on his wits and catch suspects by the use of bottlenecks and short cuts. He envied kids these days. What he wouldn't give to be young again.

He stopped at the bole of an ancient spruce and leaned against it, trying to breath through the pain. What was it his old PE instructor used to say? Breath irregularly. Inhale one-two-three, exhale one-two. He tried that for a few breaths and the pain started to ease off. Stretching helped, too, though he was relieved no-one could see him waving his hands in the air.

There was another thing, too. White racked his brain trying to remember. Oh yes. Avoid fatty foods before exercise. Did an egg-and-bacon sandwich count as fatty food? He had to admit it probably did.

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