At first, the pace doesn’t seem too bad. The trail is familiar—I used to run through this park as a teenager, training for cross-country races—and I tell myself that if I could run it then, I can run it now. Maybe running is like riding a bike, a skill that you never really forget.
Ahead of us, Luke and his friends are loping along, as though this is nothing more than a stroll through the park.They’re clearly all athletes, but Luke seems to move with particular grace.
Five minutes later, every part of me hurts. My lungs are burning, my thighs are chafing, and my feet are killing me. My bra is too tight, and with every breath, the waistband of my shorts seems to dig itself tighter into my belly. Even my head is aching, which doesn’t make sense, since it’s not doing any of the work.
“You okay?” Sophie asks.
“Sure,” I huff out, but I’m really not. This is nothing like riding a bike. I doubt we’ve even done a mile, and there’s no way I’m going to make another four. I’ll be lucky to last another four minutes.
The worst part is that it’s all my fault. If it weren’t for my stupid pride, I’d be with the beginner group, taking a walking break. And all because I didn’t want to admit to Austin that I couldn’t keep up.
It had nothing to do with Austin, says a voice inside my head.You didn’t want Luke to know you’re out of shape.
As we reach a curve, Luke glances over his shoulder at me, then quickly turns back to focus on the trail.
I turn the corner and see the lake up ahead. I tell myself to ignore my body and focus on the scenery. The leaves are changing color, and the trees are really beautiful. The Somerset Board of Tourism should photograph this scene for their ads. I’m lucky to be able to experience it.
Except I don’t feel lucky. I feel like I’m going to either throw up or pass out. There’s no alternative. I have to stop.
Then, a few feet ahead of me, Luke abruptly stops running.
“Muscle cramp,” he calls out to Austin and Drew, who turn and circle back to him. It’s only natural for Sophie and me to stop too. I could collapse with relief.
“I just need to walk it off,” Luke explains. “You guys go ahead.”
“We’re not going to leave you behind, man,” Austin insists. “Where’s the cramp?”
“Left calf,” Luke says with a grimace. He extends his left leg and bends forward in an effort to stretch the muscle. “I’ll be fine, I just need to walk it off.”
“We’ll have to start buying you those fancy electrolyte gels,” Austin says in mock disgust. “And a fanny pack to carry them.”
“Not on your life,” Luke says with a chuckle. He straightens up and starts walking, and we fall into step with him. “But honestly, I’m fine. You guys should keep going.”
“We won’t catch the group now,” Austin says. “We’re almost at the Growling Goat. Let’s get coffee.” He turns to Sophie and me. “You two coming?”
“Sure,” I say quickly. At this point, I’ll take any excuse to stop running.
We walk to the Growling Goat, an indie coffee shop on the edge of the park. They have a tiny outdoor patio with a view of the lake, and Austin snags the last free table.
“Sit and rest your leg,” he tells Luke. “Drew and I will get drinks. What would you like, Melissa?”
“Coffee with cream and sugar,” I reply. I unzip my shorts pocket and fish out a ten-dollar bill. “Thank you.”
Austin shakes his head at the money. “On me.”
“Oh,” I protest awkwardly. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” Austin says with a wink. “But I want to.”
Luke makes a strangled sound, then leans down to rub his calf. Except he’s clutching his right leg, and I couldswear that on the trail, he said his left calf was the problem.
“Sure it’s just a cramp?” Austin asks. “Want me to look at it?”
Luke shakes his head, still rubbing his leg. “It’s fine.”
“Okay,” Austin says with a shrug, before turning to Sophie. “Cinnamon latte, Kaminsky?”
Sophie looks surprised that he knows her drink. “Yeah. Thanks.”
