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If I’m honest, I’d admit that I’ve always wanted to do that annual race myself. But the entire idea of starting from zero seemed too intimidating.
“If I went for a run right now, I might collapse.” I fall back on my usual excuses.
“Exactly. I rest my case. Isn’t a good sleep the goal?”
He has a point. My gaze moves from him… to the bottle of pinot in my hand… and then back to him.
The idea appeals to me—running along the shoreline as though, if I can just run fast enough, all my troubles will be left far behind me. People always look so content when they run, as if the action of it puts everything in perspective.
I could use a dose of that in my life tonight.
“You promise not to laugh if I need to stop after five minutes?” I ask.
“I won’t laugh if you need to stop after fiveseconds.”
“Running,” I say, still chewing on the idea. I can’t remember the last time I actually ran for more than a block or two. It must have been in high school phys ed class.
“Yeah. It’s like walking, but faster,” he chides, the tease apparent in his tone.
I smirk. “You might have to carry me back.”
He gives me an appraising once-over. “Easy.”
“Okay. Okay, let’s do it.” I look over at my dog briefly, wondering if she might want to come along. But, in proper golden retriever fashion, she’s retreated to her favorite rug on the floor, sprawled out and sound asleep.
Still, I can’t help asking, “Do you think we should take Junie?”
He looks at her and then shakes his head. “Let her sleep. I can only carry one of you home.”
