that. “Nope.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re planning training runs with Damon, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” It was only a partial lie, he had promised to call.
Hot Redhead’s face balled up. She was going to cry. “You aren’t running with him yet,” she said.
I stared at her. How did she know that? I shrugged my shoulders. “Soon.”
“Well.” She flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Good luck with your training .”
She jogged off and I felt a spasm of conscience. I’d lied to her. I hated liars. And then the poor girl had gotten all upset. She must really want that Damon guy. Not that I blamed her. I watched her backside recede into the coming dawn. I should catch up to her and say she could train with me. I tried to run faster. Nope. That wasn’t happening. Maybe I could call out to her. I opened my mouth and creaked out, “Hey, girl.” It was a pathetic wheeze. I sucked in all my air and yelled, “Hot Redhead.”
She whirled around. Even in the pre-dawn light I could see flashes shooting from her eyes. Hot Redhead flew back towards me. “What did you call me?”
I stopped running. “Um, well, it’s just a silly name I made up. You should take it as a compliment, really. Because you are . . .”
She came within inches of my face. I walked backwards, hit a pothole, and stuttered to remain upright. “What did you call me?”
I gulped, I'd pushed the wrong button. “H-hot Redhead.”
Tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, she covered the distance I’d made between us. “ Hot Redhead?”
I nodded, wondering why I was intimidated by a woman half my size. “You should like it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “We’ll see. But,” she poked me in the chest, “if I decide I don’t like it, you’d better watch your back when you’re out running in the dark.”
Hot Redhead whirled and sped off into the morning.
“See if I give you a compliment again,” I yelled, after she was too far away to hear me.
Week One
It turned out the whole preparation idea was over-rated. After a few days of agonizing pain combined with fear of Muscle Man, Hot Redhead, or a psycho murderer confronting me on the pre-dawn lit road, I realized I didn’t need that stress until the actual start of marathon training. I also admitted to myself, after three weeks of carrying my cell phone into the bathroom and to bed with me at night, that Damon wasn’t going to call. I hadn’t heard or seen from Jesse in almost as long. I could wait and humiliate myself in June.
Unfortunately, June came and I had to commit. I wanted to believe my parents and Raquel were proud of me and prove to Nana, Tasha, and Jared that I wasn't a quitter, besides I'd told too many people about the marathon to back out gracefully now. I laced up my running shoes, for serious this time, left Nana shaking her head and baking banana bread in our cozy kitchen, and headed to the gym with Tasha for some interval training.
“Can you explain to me why I am here at five-thirty in the morning?” Tasha asked, punching buttons on the treadmill. “Instead of spooning with my body pillow?”
“It’s not that early.” My treadmill slung into action, I speed-walked to keep up. “And you’re going to get the ‘best friend of the year’ award.”
“More like, ‘most glutton for punishment,’” Tasha grunted as her treadmill belt started rotating. “Tell me what the ‘best friend of the year’ is supposed to be doing in this stuffy cardio room.”
“I just need you to keep track of how many times I sprint and call me names if I don’t push myself hard enough. You know, your normal bosom buddy obligations.” I jogged to get warm. I’d allow myself five minutes to warm up then the pace was going to 11.0, 5:27 minutes per mile, the fastest I’d ever run.
Tasha broke into a jog, upping the pace to 6.0. I looked at my 6.6 pace and smiled. I loved beating Tasha.
“So I get to call you slow-poke and lazy
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re planning training runs with Damon, aren’t you?”
“Yep.” It was only a partial lie, he had promised to call.
Hot Redhead’s face balled up. She was going to cry. “You aren’t running with him yet,” she said.
I stared at her. How did she know that? I shrugged my shoulders. “Soon.”
“Well.” She flipped her long ponytail over her shoulder. “Good luck with your training .”
She jogged off and I felt a spasm of conscience. I’d lied to her. I hated liars. And then the poor girl had gotten all upset. She must really want that Damon guy. Not that I blamed her. I watched her backside recede into the coming dawn. I should catch up to her and say she could train with me. I tried to run faster. Nope. That wasn’t happening. Maybe I could call out to her. I opened my mouth and creaked out, “Hey, girl.” It was a pathetic wheeze. I sucked in all my air and yelled, “Hot Redhead.”
She whirled around. Even in the pre-dawn light I could see flashes shooting from her eyes. Hot Redhead flew back towards me. “What did you call me?”
I stopped running. “Um, well, it’s just a silly name I made up. You should take it as a compliment, really. Because you are . . .”
She came within inches of my face. I walked backwards, hit a pothole, and stuttered to remain upright. “What did you call me?”
I gulped, I'd pushed the wrong button. “H-hot Redhead.”
Tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, she covered the distance I’d made between us. “ Hot Redhead?”
I nodded, wondering why I was intimidated by a woman half my size. “You should like it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “We’ll see. But,” she poked me in the chest, “if I decide I don’t like it, you’d better watch your back when you’re out running in the dark.”
Hot Redhead whirled and sped off into the morning.
“See if I give you a compliment again,” I yelled, after she was too far away to hear me.
Week One
It turned out the whole preparation idea was over-rated. After a few days of agonizing pain combined with fear of Muscle Man, Hot Redhead, or a psycho murderer confronting me on the pre-dawn lit road, I realized I didn’t need that stress until the actual start of marathon training. I also admitted to myself, after three weeks of carrying my cell phone into the bathroom and to bed with me at night, that Damon wasn’t going to call. I hadn’t heard or seen from Jesse in almost as long. I could wait and humiliate myself in June.
Unfortunately, June came and I had to commit. I wanted to believe my parents and Raquel were proud of me and prove to Nana, Tasha, and Jared that I wasn't a quitter, besides I'd told too many people about the marathon to back out gracefully now. I laced up my running shoes, for serious this time, left Nana shaking her head and baking banana bread in our cozy kitchen, and headed to the gym with Tasha for some interval training.
“Can you explain to me why I am here at five-thirty in the morning?” Tasha asked, punching buttons on the treadmill. “Instead of spooning with my body pillow?”
“It’s not that early.” My treadmill slung into action, I speed-walked to keep up. “And you’re going to get the ‘best friend of the year’ award.”
“More like, ‘most glutton for punishment,’” Tasha grunted as her treadmill belt started rotating. “Tell me what the ‘best friend of the year’ is supposed to be doing in this stuffy cardio room.”
“I just need you to keep track of how many times I sprint and call me names if I don’t push myself hard enough. You know, your normal bosom buddy obligations.” I jogged to get warm. I’d allow myself five minutes to warm up then the pace was going to 11.0, 5:27 minutes per mile, the fastest I’d ever run.
Tasha broke into a jog, upping the pace to 6.0. I looked at my 6.6 pace and smiled. I loved beating Tasha.
“So I get to call you slow-poke and lazy
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