New Yorkers are griping that the city won’t plow out the roads after heavy snow. I’m trying to decide whether to run shirtless on a glorious 76-degree day.
It’s just another day at the track. And then, it’s not.
A woman is running next to me. She seems to be running the same pace as me, and in the same outside lane. Actually she’s faster than me, but every time she starts to pull ahead she conspicuously drops back. I urge her to drop me, but she declines.
I normally am a solitary kinda guy when running, but I have to admit I am quite drawn to her.
We talk. About life, grouchy people, work, the wind. The miles fly by. Sure, she’s attractive, but that’s not it. She’s the most fascinating person I’ve ever been around.
Too soon, she stops. She says she was just doing a two miler. I’m sad that she’s leaving, but then she sits on the bleachers next to the track. Is she waiting for me?
The next two miles go by way two slowly. I occasionally give a little wave and shyly look over to see if she’s watching. She’s isn’t; she’s drawing pictures of homes in the neighborhood.
Then the run’s over. I walk toward the car and she follows. And gets in the car. As it turns out, I’m married to her. I am the luckiest guy on the planet.
But I should probably wear my glasses when running.
p.s. here’s what she painted today.
- 4 miles — 54:29 (13:38, 131) track
- 13:07, 13:25, 14:08, 13:50
- Piranha-meter — 726 miles