But I owe it to her. I owe it to myself.
Very slowly I turn toward the path and start to jog.
In the past few days, while I was avoiding Olivia, I added the treadmill to my workout routine. As a result, running has gotten a little bit easier every day, but the wonder of it still hasn’t worn off.
I’m running.
I can’t make myself look back. I’m too afraid that she won’t get it. That to her it’ll just be some dude moving along at a slow jog, big whoop. I’m afraid she won’t understand that I thought I’d never run again.
Most of all, I’m afraid she won’t realize the most important thing of all, what I’m really trying to tell her—that if it weren’t for her, I never would have run again.
I hear her come up behind me. Her breathing pattern is still terrible, so it’s like a big honking bird. Hard to miss. And then she falls into step beside me. No words. She just matches my pace.
Very slightly, I turn my head to look at her, careful not to break my stride.
Tears are running down her face. The happy kind, I presume. She gets it.
I can’t hide the smile. I don’t even try. If running feels good after a three-year hiatus, smiling might just feel even better. One more thing to thank her for.
We run forever. At least that’s what it feels like. We don’t stop until we get to the part of the path that narrows as it leads into a wooded area. It’s more secluded here, and it must be the part of her run where she usually turns around, because she slows to a walk before moving toward the trees, hands on her hips as she catches her breath and looks out over the water.
I move behind her, and for several moments we stand there in companionable silence, as the dark of night shifts into the gray of early morning.
“How does it feel?” she asks, turning her head just slightly to the side so I can make out her profile.
Leave it to Olivia to say just the right thing. Anyone else would have given me some sugary garbage, like I knew you could do it! or See? All you needed was to set your mind to it!
And when she asks how it feels, I also know she’s not talking about my leg, which is fine, if a bit stiffer than it used to be before the injury. She’s asking how I feel. How my soul, if you want to get all weird about it, feels about running again.
“Amazing.” I drop my head slightly to plant a kiss on her bare shoulder. She prefers to run in tank tops, which I find kind of hot, if not ridiculous. Then again, I suppose it’s no different than my affinity for running in shorts.
She sucks in a little breath, and I expect her to pull away, making a fuss about being all sweaty or something girly like that, but she tilts her head to the side, her long ponytail swaying slightly.
“It feels unbelievable,” I say, my lips touching her skin again and lingering. “Too good to be true.”
Olivia makes a humming noise.
I step closer to her so my chest is against her back, my hips against her butt. I turn my head slightly, this time kissing the soft part where her shoulder meets her neck, and whisper the truth there. “I don’t know how to live without it.”
I’m no longer talking about running. I’m talking about her. Us. And when she tilts her head back to rest it on my shoulder with a shuddering sigh, I know she knows it.