Day 4: 8,000 words and some Foucauldian theorizing

 

I managed to get another day of writing under my belt. I did not advance the plot in any way, nor did I figure out anything about why these mysterious fires keep happening. It does not appear that Jake or Scottie do much work, if at all. 

Apparently this “Dr. Toodie,” if he had even gotten his PhD from an accredited institution, and she did not believe that he had, was not a Foucauldian Discourse Analysis Aide because he wanted to use Foucauldian concepts to critique exercises of power. Scottie certainly had her issues with that—it often led to people becoming so suspicious about power and authority that they started to dislike a government census or a sign telling people how to wash their hands. But now Scottie was realizing, much like Ben Affleck Summer, that things can always get worse. She had found the first Foucauldian scholar in her lifetime who drew on Foucauldian theory to better engage in surveillance, discipline, and governmentality.  

She was clearly under surveillance. 

She clearly had no choice.

It was going to be a Hot Runner Summer. 

“You’re not going to believe this, but I have to go and find some running clothes immediately so that I can join in on a mandatory lunchtime from my office remotely.”

“What?” Jake gave her a puzzled look.

“While I know more of the particular, I have to say that knowing them makes me just as confused as you are.”

“Are you a runner?”

“Emphatically not.”

Jake grimaced. “It is not a good day to start out running,” he said, noting the rapidly rising temperatures and the sun that was beating down on her perspiring neck.

“Promise me that you avenge my death?” 

“You have my word,” Jake said with fake solemnity. “But I can also do one better. I can take you running.”

“I don’t want to insult you, but, don’t coaches in the OHL have more important things to do on a random Wednesday afternoon?”

“It’s the off-season,” he replied. “We are part time for a month before we start it all up again.”

Scottie was in a difficult situation. On the hand, she couldn’t imagine how she could possibly make herself less attractive to Jake Kneiss than by running with him right now. Fainting after running for three minutes would hardly impress a former professional athlete who looked just as vigorous as he had at the height of his career. On the other hand, he looked like he knew CPR.

***

Clad in the new clothes that she was forced to buy from the Runner’s Room downtown, Scottie met Jake outside of her hotel. Scottie had picked out a black cropped running top and hot pink leggings shorts for the occasion. Her black Fitbit was strapped onto her wrist, like the prisoner that she was.

Indeed, she was incredibly disgruntled to find out when she got back to her hotel that a package had arrived for her: a Fitbit that she was required to wear to track her running. Knowing what she knew about the financial situation of the Toronto Star, this did not sound at all like a reasonable use of what had to be a significant amount of money for everyone to have a Fitbit. She assumed that Dr. Gordon Toodie, the Foucauldian Discourse Analysis Aide, was behind the decision. Demanding that all employees wear Fitbits could not be a more straightforward application of Foucault’s panoptic surveillance. The concept refers to famed utilitarian philosopher Jeremy Bentham’s design for prisons, where prisoners’ cells were arranged around a central guard tower. The guard tower could see into every single prisoner cell, but the prisoners could not see into the guard tower so they would not know if they were being watched or not. The thinking was that the perpetual feeling that you could be being watched by an authority figure would engage in self-surveillance to ensure that, at all times, they were conforming to expectations of appropriate conduct. A chilling concept, to be sure. 

GOVERN YOURSELVES ACCORDINGLY, indeed. 

Had Brandon from IT been the one to set it up so that Chadwick Moneysworth and Dr. Gordon Toodie would have access to everyone’s Fitbit data? How in the world had Chad from Legal approved this?

There was a reason that Foucauldian scholars weren’t put in charge of anything. Or at least they hadn’t been, until now. 

Jake was wearing some heather grey shorts and a white running top. It looked like he had gone for about a hundred thousand runs in his life while wearing full goalie equipment. She tried not to leer at him, and mostly failed. Who knew that a calf had that many muscles? 

She was increasingly feeling like running with Jake was going to be a terrible idea. What if he made fun of her? What if he literally just left her behind?

“It’s not even worth saying that I might embarrass myself today. I know that I’m going to. I’m not much of an exerciser,” Scottie warned Jake. She was speaking the truth. She had once bought a black to-go mug that said “wine tasting is my favourite sport” in white, loopy scrawl. She had used it every day at the office until the tripped, very unathletically, and dropped the cup down several flights of stairs. Perhaps if wine tasting had not been her favourite sport, but instead it was something health promoting, she might still have that cup today. 

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” Jake reassured her. “First of all, everyone has to start somewhere. There is no shame in being a beginner. Second of all, the only people who can comfortably run for long distances are people who always run for long distances. Sure, some people are more athletic than others, but our bodies are mostly built around the activities that we do.”

“That is the nicest thing that anyone has ever said about exercise,” Scottie smiled at him.

“I promise, this can be fun. Maybe you’ll even like running,” he joked as he clapped a hand on her shoulder. A hand that took up her entire shoulder and made her feel warm inside. 

Scottie was stunned. This mature and kind person was definitely not the person that she had a crush on in high school (where it’s slim pickings when it comes to maturity and kindness). It certainly wasn’t the type of thing that she expected from someone who used to make millions of dollars for being athletic. And, someone who also used to make a lot of money for being athletic and attractive. She would never forget the Lululemon campaign that he did, or for that matter, the time he posed in the ESPN Body Issue. 

She’d always seen exercisers as being in some mean and exclusive club that she could never be in. Maybe, with Jake, it would be fun? Or at least not painful. Or that painful.

“We can start out by running for two minutes and walking for one minute. We can go for about twenty minutes, if that works.”

Scottie shook her head sadly. “Dr. Toodie says that we aren’t allowed to walk or stop. We have to run constantly for 30 minutes.”

“Didn’t you say that he was an exercise physiologist? That sounds like the worst way that I could ever imagine to introduce someone to running.”

“No, I said that he claims to be an exercise physiologist. I do not think that he got his PhD from an accredited institution. Although apparently I have to pay $19.99 to buy his dissertation at a discounted rate. So maybe I will get more information that way.”

“Aren’t dissertations made publicly available by their universities? For free? In part because no one would ever pay to read anyone's dissertation?"

Scottie looked at Jake, stunned. Why would he know that?

“As much as I don’t love the idea that I would spend even a single second looking at his ‘dissertation,’” a word she said with exaggerated scare quotes, “I do like the idea of depriving him of $19.99.”

“Sounds like something to look forward to for sure,” Jake joked. “Let’s go. One foot in front of the other. Two minutes of running, and one minute of walking.” He gestured towards the sidewalk in front of them.

“But I’m wearing a Fitbit. They’ll know if I don’t do that.”

Jake smirked. “I remember you being such a rule follower in high school.”

“Rules are made to be followed!”

“That is not at all the saying, and you know it.”

And with that, they took off.