“Who said anything about dating?”
“You just did.”
“I didn’t say you can date him. I said you can sleep with him. That, you can definitely do. Preferably before John and Andrew come home for Thanksgiving, and before you see Thomas at the wedding.”
“I can?” I look at Lisa, searching for a sign that I should believe her because, well, I kind of want to.
“You bet you can.”
“Hey-di-hey! Hi-di-ho! All my runners, you almost ready to go?” a perky woman a few years older than I am singsongs loudly, tap-dancing her way across a commemorative bench in McKinley Park. I wonder if this is what the family of Sally Bernstein had in mind for her memorial seating when they gifted the money to the city. I imagine not.
“For those of you who are new to the Heart and Sole Running Club, I’m Maureen Nickerson, your president, your grand dame, your madam of ceremony. I’m here for all of it.” Maureen drops into a dramatic bow, like poor dead Sally’s bench is her Carnegie Hall.
“Jerry, I’m loving that new blue bandanna. Smart move after a summer of burning the top of your noggin; plus, it makes your eyes pop.” Jerry taps his temple like he recently figured out covering his bald head is the key to avoiding skin cancer in California.
“Kayla, do I spy an engagement ring on your left hand? Did Taylor finally pop the question?” Maureen circles her finger, homing in on a lady I can’t quite find in the crowd until the woman known as Kayla punches her fist to the sky like Rocky atop the Philadelphia Museum of Art steps. The gathered group of twenty-five or so breaks out in applause. I give a polite golf clap from behind the tree where I’m trying not to draw attention to myself. I’m keeping the option open to slink away without being spotted by Chap.
“Hey, there,” a voice from behind me murmurs low and deep, causing me to jump. “You plan on hiding out here all night, or are you going to join me and the group?” I’m mortified that Chap has found me spying on the crowd of people standing on one leg, stretching their quads like a pack of athletic storks while Maureen continues with the group announcements.
Chap points over my shoulder to the woman Maureen gave a shout-out to, and I follow his finger. “Kayla’s been working on securing that ring for as long as I’ve been a part of the Heart and Sole Running Club. I’m happy she was finally able to wear her dude down, but that’s one high-maintenance chick Taylor’s gotta deal with. The upkeep on her hair and nails alone is gonna bankrupt the guy.” My boys are more one-sentence cut-and-run conversationalists, so I’m kind of taken aback by Chap’s loose lips about his clubmates. I like a man who can gossip openly. Thomas spent so much time in his head that he failed to observe what was going on around him. He was a terrible post-dinner-party pillow-talker.
“Lola, I want some time together on our run tonight. I need to hear about the new puppy and how those dog-training classes I recommended are going.” Lola gives Maureen a thumbs-up, and Maureen throws one right back at her.
“So all these people can run and talk to each other at the same time?” I marvel at the multitasking out loud. It never crossed my mind to chat with someone while running, when simply breathing feels like more than I can handle. “Don’t they need to concentrate on not passing out?”
“Most of them have been at it awhile, but there are a few newbies like you. Come on, follow me to the back of the group,” Chap says, ignoring my fatalistic commentary, and puts his hand on the small of my back, gently pushing me out from behind the oak tree. My skin burns with the heat of his palm, the warmth of his touch. My toe hooks a root, and I stumble. Chap catches me by the waist and then steers me toward the back of the pack before I can pivot left and scurry home.
“Five-kilometer run tonight. For all you non-Brits, that’s 3.2 miles. Carlos will lead us out with the seven-minute-mile group, and Daphne and I will be sweeping the rear at around a fourteen-minute-mile pace,” Maureen recites from her notes.
“Gonna love it, gonna run it, gonna have some fun doin’ it,” Daphne sings to the crowd.
I recognize the melodic voice as Daphne’s from Mercy Community Care. When I locate her in the sea of faces, I see she’s in something very different from her uniform, nor does she look the way I imagine a person who shows up weekly to running club would dress. The matching hot-pink sports bra and spandex shorts of her outfit leave nothing to the imagination as she confidently sways her full hips to the beat of her own song at the mention of her name. She gets a couple of loud shouts of “Go Daphne! Go Daphne!” from her fans in the club. Maureen claps her hands to the beat and lets Daphne have her moment. These people seem to be having a lot of fun for a group about to sweat through their clothes in the eighty-degree evening.
“Tonight’s theme is buddy run,” Maureen announces, drawing the attention back to her. “Find a partner close to your pace and run the first warm-up mile with them.” Everyone starts hopping up and down on their toes, mimicking the guy who almost ran into me in the shoe store. I do the same, now convinced that pogo dancing is something all runners do prestart to make the inevitable torture, I guess, less torturous. Or maybe they are all actually eager to get going, but I can’t imagine why.
“Check in and find out how your buddy is doing. Some things in life are more important than pace, so ask what those things are right now for a new friend or an old one.”
Is this a running group or AA? The pressure of pairing myself up with someone and baring my soul when everyone is a stranger makes me want to crawl inside myself, drop, and roll away in the fetal position. Everyone is now pogo-hopping in a 360, looking around to make eye contact with someone they know, or presumably someone who will not leave them behind in their fit of failure.
“Don’t worry, I got you,” Chap says to me, smiling.
“You going to walk while I run?” I chide Chap, wanting him to know how slowly I go without directly having to admit it.
“Gonna run backwards. Good for my proprioceptive awareness.”
Jesus, is that one more thing I have to think about? Who knew running, which Reddit informed me is the act of putting one foot in front of another, could be so complicated?
“Part of your marathon training?” I slap my hand over my mouth. Chap looks at me like I’ve been caught with my eye in the locker-room peephole.
“Something like that.” Chap winks at me.
“Check in on your partner’s heart more than their legs, although we do have some great-looking legs in our club!” Maureen whoops.
Daphne gives Preacher Maureen a rousing “Amen, sister!”
“You know, heart health is everything, people, so let’s go!” And with Maureen’s declaration, the herd stampedes out of the park.
“Come on, Daphne, Eric, and Callie, try to make this light with us!” Chap and Maureen trot backward, calling to the three of us bringing up the rear.
