I was a mile into the first of two three-mile loops at Green
Lake when I noticed her. She was a long-legged woman with short, grey
hair. About six to ten years older than
me, I’d guess. I was just getting over
the hump of stiff legs, my left Achilles and right hamstring beginning to loosen up, when I fell in behind her. At first,
I didn’t intentionally step into her stride, but as we continued along the
gravel path, my interest in staying right there with her grew. Neither of us wore watches, but I knew she was
helping me pick up my usual, lazy pace.
I followed at enough distance so that the crunch of my
steps didn’t distract her, watching her relaxed arms, her elongated posture, and fluid turnover. She never looked around her, but I could easily tell she wasn’t
working as hard as I was. We continued
our circle of the lake in the late afternoon's hazy sun. As I began
to match her smooth stride, I became conscious of my wild left arm swing, and
tucked both arms in closer. I
straightened my back. I lifted my feet slightly.
I began to relax, too. The leg aches faded and then were gone. My breathing slowed.
As we began the third mile, I had come upon her right side,
so I moved to the other side of the trail. At mile’s end, just before I veered off to use
the rest room, I spoke to her, thanking her for pulling me along. Something
prompted me to tell her that I thought she was a lovely runner. She smiled and thanked me, and politely complimented
me, too. We chatted a few moments before parting ways and I didn’t see her
again.
I contemplated the shared run during my second loop and
wondered if other women ever felt the same way while running – purely platonic
admiration. A male runner friend recently told me that he often things about sex
while running. I can honestly say that
in thirty years of running -- including many marathons that have been long,
painful tests of a wandering mind -- sex has never crossed it while my feet are
in motion. Of course, I occasionally notice good looking, fit men while running, but have never consciously followed
one, tried to emulate running like one, or even finished a run still thinking
about him.
But, perhaps at times when I most need them, I have had fleeting girl crushes on women who leave a
lasting impression long after my I’ve completed the last mile, my breathing has
slowed, and the endorphin high has waned.
Beautiful women I want to be more like, the next time I run.
