whispering as he wheeled his way across the gym.
When we went into the workout room, he asked me, âSo whatâs the plan, Jeff? Do I just jump on the treadmill and start running? Or are we doing calisthenics first? I do a mean jumping jack, except for that part where your feet are supposed to leave the floor. OK, itâs more like Iâm miming along to âY.M.C.A.,â but stillâ¦.â
I stopped him. âListen, the important thing is that we start you off slowly, with low-impact activities. The key is to build your aerobic capacity, while developing the major muscles in your legs, without exerting too much stress on your joints before they can handle it. Oh, and we have to work on yourflexibility. Youâve probably lost some range of motion.â
He raised an eyebrow. âWhat?â I said. âYou think youâre the only one who can use a computer? Plus, I talked to Mrs. Roling.â She used to be our physical therapist at Childrenâs Hospital, and I knew she was constantly preaching to Tad about the importance of forcing himself to walk. âAnyway, letâs begin with a few stretches, then get you on the exercise bike.â
We got into position on the canvas mats in the corner, and I tried to get Tad to stretch his hamstrings and quad muscles. Needless to say, he complained. âDude, this hurts ! Is it supposed to hurt?â
I gave him my best Dalai Lama smile. âAll progress is painful. Now reach for those toes!â
After a little while, Tad declared himself ready for the bike. He looked like he had just swallowed a cockroach, but I guess he thought the bike sounded better than doing more work on the mat. At least until he started pedaling. I had it on the lowest setting, but it had just been so long since he had triedto do anything major with his legs that he got tired super-fast.
By the end of the first minute, Tad was panting, âCanât you turn this thing down? Itâs brutal.â
âDude, if I made it any easier it would just spin in the breeze like a pinwheel. Keep going for one more minute.â Just then, I happened to look up at the big plate-glass window that separated us from the main part of the gym. There were several kids peering in. One of them was Lindsey. Tad looked up and saw, too. He muttered, âWatch this!â Then he started moving his legs faster, and proceeded to pedal a whole extra minute before he leaned forward and hugged his knees until his breathing slowed.
Three minutes of even the lightest possible pedaling was a huge accomplishment for Tad, and I told him so when he finished. âDonât patronize me,â he snarled. âNow itâs your turn. Letâs get you going with some free weights.â
âWait a minute,â I said. âWhat do you mean, my turn? It was my turn when you tutored me in maththe other night. That was the deal: You tutor, I train. So why should I ââ
He tilted his head toward the big window. âChicks dig muscles,â he replied. âSo get over here, you little doughboy. This wonât be so bad. Iâll even do it with you.â
That sounded fair, but I knew Tad had massively strong arms from pushing his wheelchair around. Meanwhile, I had twitchy, chubby little sausage arms. I sighed and picked up the lightest pair of dumbbells for curling. They weighed five pounds each. Tad grabbed a fifteen-pound weight in each hand. He counted me through three sets of twelve repetitions, matching me rep for rep, and by the end my muscles were shaking uncontrollably. Sweat was pouring into my eyes. Tad had recovered completely, and looked like he was out for a casual little wheelchair jaunt in the park.
âAre we done yet?â I gasped.
âSure,â he said. âExcept for the push-ups, the sit-ups, the reverse curls, the lat pull-downsâ¦.â
I groaned. Tad barked, âFine, Mister Bird-chest.Have it your way. You think itâs