Cold air, warm breath. Running faster to get warmer.
Hear the birds, the river, the pounding of feet. A shuffle behind you, he's back there somewhere.
Pass the walkers, some with dogs, all look cold.
Breath is louder, pace is slower, approaching zen if there is such a thing.
Take off the gloves but leave on the hat. Worries of hat hair might take your mind off of running.
Look behind you and he is gone. All alone now. Glance at the watch. Still on pace.
Quarter miles go by quickly. A good run when the appearance of mile markers surprises you.
Almost halfway done. A little slower. Over the bridge and water.
To the head and turn around. Keep jogging until a pain. Sharp and sudden. Double over. Darn gas.
Walk the bridge and bend over. Jam your fist into your side. No longer happy or zen-like until you look down and see him coming.
Walk a while, talk together, breath is normal. It's cold again. The pain is gone.
Good-bye my love, 2.5 miles to go. I'll see you at the end.