The evening was too beautiful to be spent working out in our dark basement. So we went for a run, the engineer and I together.
My body must have known this was not the norm because my ankles locked in protest. The engineer took off with long even strides. I lagged behind awkwardly, wiggling my hands and feet as I ran to loosen my lazy joints.
But soon my gait began to match his. Our tennis shoes hit the concrete in unison, echoing thumps throughout the quiet neighborhood.
Sometimes we were side by side. When the sidewalk grew narrow, I let him take the lead. We hurdled rogue sprinkler systems and dodged gangs of tiny bicycle riders. We waved to men mowing their lawns and sped up a little past the lawns with barking dogs. Through winding suburbia streets. Up and down the unending rows of culs-de-sac.
As my breath quickened and my fatigue grew, the sun lowered in the sky ushering in the coolness of night. We ran until I didn't think I could run anymore.
That's when from over his shoulder I heard him shout, "Sprint to the end of the block?"
And so I did. It was the longest block of my life. But I knew once I hit that stop sign, it would be over.
And so I ran faster.
When my toes finally aligned with the curb, I collapsed at the waist. When I looked up, I saw my husband... still running.
"Hey!" I called out to him, " I thought we were done!"
"Done?" He said with confusion, "But we only ran for 15 minutes..."