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But she’d made a classic rookie mistake that no seasoned runner would: she’d overdressed. By mile two, which Rhett had let slip by without remembering to turn around at the half mark on his GPS watch, Stanzi was panting like a husky in the desert.
She didn’t complain, though. She just kept going, her cheeks on fire and sweat flying from her face to the pavement. Then she started tugging on her collar, mopping her face with the hem of her shirt, gasping a little bit. She must’ve finally had enough because she stripped her shirt over her head and stuffed it in the waistband of the back of her pants. Beneath, Stanzi wore a red sports bra that was supportive but still couldn’t completely contain her generous chest. There was no longer much excess around her middle; she’d built muscle and dropped resting body fat at the same time.
A loud, double-tap honk rang out from a utility truck that flew by. A man in the passenger seat leaned out the window and whistled. Stanzi’s pace slowed. She petered off into a walk and veered into a shady area, next to a kids’ playground. She chose an empty picnic table beneath a large maple tree, sank to the bench, clasped her hands between her knees and rested her elbows on her thighs. She leaned forward, the sweat dripping from her forehead, and cursed softly to herself.
“Why’d you wear these winter pants?” Rhett sat down next to her, wishing he’d brought water. Another thing seasoned runners didn’t do was carry water during a 5k.
Stanzi gasped a short laugh. “I don’t know. Actually, I do. I think it’s as simple as not wanting to wear running shorts. Every time I think about running, including the eight hundred meter the other day at the box, I think about the day I went to surprise my fiancé on the running trail and found him running with someone else.”
Ah. Now they were getting somewhere.
“Josh and I met on that running trail. In Greenview Park actually. During a Turkey Trot. We were using each other as a pacer all throughout the race. At the end, when I beat him by ten seconds, he asked me out.” She smiled at the memory. “We were together for three years, but...” She twirled her forefinger. “After my dad got sick, I had little time or energy for running. I got slower and slower and more and more out of shape. Josh withdrew. Told me I was making excuses. But running was such a large part of our relationship.” She shook her head. “Too large, I realize now. After Dad died, I realized I needed to dig myself out of the hole I’d let myself sink into. I went to the park to surprise Josh. He was such a creature of habit, I knew exactly what trail he’d be on. I knew I’d find him there. What I didn’t know was that she would be there with him.” Stanzi’s voice got softer, almost dreamy. “It was her legs. Her bare legs in those running shorts. Slender to a fault. Easy to move for distance. She looked like I looked, once upon a time. Josh was pretty much dating me again...or the person I had been when he met me. The person I no longer was.”
Rhett leaned back, elbows on the picnic table. He knew this was a moment when speaking less and listening more was the right thing to do. He stared out at the playground, a few yards away, and enjoyed the breeze cooling the sweat on his face. The equipment was covered in screaming children. Young moms, a few dads and a handful of grandparents followed them around, from slide to monkey bars to swings. The trash receptacles were overflowing with junk food wrappers, fast-food containers, apple cores and banana peels. Birds and squirrels pecked at the spillage on the ground. The chatter going on around them was one hundred percent parental: “Decker, stop poking your brother!”
“Hey, my kid was playing with that!”
“Good job, Buddy! You climb that all by yourself?”
“I didn’t stop because of the pants,” Stanzi admitted. “It may sound weird, but it was the honk. And the whistle.” She shook her head. “I know it sounds dumb. But after I gained weight and Josh ditched me for a newer, slimmer running partner, all I wanted was to be that woman again. The sexy, skinny chick that got Josh’s attention. But then, when I was honked and whistled at just now, I was ashamed of myself that I had ever wanted to be a certain way for Josh. It’s bad enough we have to dwell on our appearances every single day, for every little thing we do. We have to ask ourselves, every time we go out for a run, should I wear this? Are my shorts too short? Is my bra pushing up my breasts too much? If I run this way, rather than that way—” she gestured with her hands “—will I get more or less catcalls? And, when I do, should I be nice and smile and wave? Or should I flip the middle finger? If I do that, what are the odds someone comes after me? What are the odds they’ll come after me if I smile? Am I a bitch if I ignore them? A slut if I whistle back? Why do I even care? Why am I measuring myself, my beauty and my worth by how skinny I am or how many catcalls I get? And it’s not as though catcalls are even compliments! Just a comment on women existing. And what if I just don’t feel like dealing with all that shit? What if I just want to run in peace?” Her voice rose in pitch by the time she sputtered her last question.
Rhett kicked up some dirt with his shoe. He’d always found Stanzi brave, beautiful and sexy, both when she started at Semper Fit and now, her resting body fat having little to do with the equation or his attraction.
“I know I just went off on a tangent,” Stanzi admitted with a rueful smile. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is, I dressed like this today because I didn’t want to have to care how I looked while I ran with you. Josh clearly wanted to run with—to be with—a woman who looked a certain way. I wanted to run with you while looking as frumpy as possible. And then the honk reminded me of everything that I don’t want defining me anymore.”
Rhett tried to keep silent, to stay neutral, so that Stanzi would keep letting it all out, getting rid of it, making sense of it. But he felt himself smile, just the littlest bit.
Stanzi smiled back. “You’ve never had to plan your outfit before a run, have you?” Her question wasn’t accusatory, just curious. She didn’t wait for him to answer. “You’ve probably never even thought about what you wear to work out. And I bet you can count any catcalls you’ve gotten on one hand, which has nothing to do with how attractive you are. It’s just different for you. Different rules. Same world.”
Rhett stared out at all the kids, running, screaming, jumping, their lungs bursting in the sunshine, their voices exploding against the blue sky. He rested his hand on Stanzi’s back, right above her bra strap, on the sweaty skin between her shoulder blades.
She didn’t flinch.
They sat like that for a while. In the silence that passed, one kid fell off the top of the slide, but hopped right back to his feet, despite his mother’s horror; another kid got yelled at for spitting on another boy, and a football landed at Stanzi’s feet. She picked it up and winged it back to the teenagers who were tossing it around while they watched what must’ve been younger brothers playing on the seesaw. Damn. Good arm.
Stanzi’s skin had grown cool under Rhett’s hand. “We can walk back, if you want,” he said. “You ran more than two miles already.”
Stanzi offered a weak smile. “Progress is progress, right?” She stood up and stretched. “And I will celebrate progress by running some more.”
Rhett followed suit. “You going to wear your giant shirt?” He nodded at the tee stuffed in the back of her pants.
She shook her head. “Nah.”
“All right.” Rhett stripped his off, too.
Stanzi giggled as they headed out of the park, back onto the sidewalk. “Hey, baby—” she mimicked a dude’s voice “—you running my way?”
Rhett rewarded her attempt at humor with a laugh. “My eyes are up here.” He gestured with his first two fingers.
After he got a few steps ahead, he heard her mutter, “Can’t go wrong either way.” He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that, so he kept his second laugh to himself.
By the time they made it back to the gym, Stanzi was drenched in sweat again. Rhett nodded toward the bakery across the street, which had been strategically situated between his gym and the one on the opposite corner that offered spin classes, resistance machines and every type of electronic exercise gadget on the market. “Let’s get some fuel.”
Cinnamon, vanilla, coffee, chocolate and butter wafted out of the warm interior of the shop as Rhett held the door open. Stanzi stood there, a little smile on her lips.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her smile deepened. “It’s just—” she swiped back the hair from her face that had gotten loose from her messy bun “—the last time I stood in front of this shop, I was miserable. I’d skipped the spin class on the corner and I felt depressed and defeated. I saw your gym across the street and I just stood here, staring, while some guy held the door for me.”
