“I think I will go for a run.”
He stands over me with a small smirk on his face. He knows I won’t stand for competition over the cage. I’ve come to think of it as my gerbil cage. And why shouldn’t I? I’ve spent many a lonely night running and walking nowhere on that thing. Mine. All mine. I’ve logged more stats. I’ve spent more time. Surely there are squatters rights for this kind of thing? Isn’t there some logical rule…something about possession being nine-tenths of the law?
“Let’s go outside” I retort with a wink. I was fully prepared for the litany of excuses. I’ve heard them all: I’m not ready for the road. I’ll run slower with hills. It looks like rain and it feels like rain. And when I hear this I will have no sympathy – yeah, so? Except. Except the excuses don’t come. What I hear instead is “Sure! Lemme check the doppler radar to see where this storm is going.” We could see dark storm clouds rolling across the sky. So, we wait for the sun and 20 minutes later we are headed out the front door…to run outside.
Because I have been running around the neighborhood for a year I have a better lay of the land than kisa does. Strangely enough I have none of the territorial angst with outside as I do with the cage. In my mind I am able to conjure up decent, easy walk/run routes that would avoid running up hills or walking while crossing streets. Walk to Yelle, run to Crazy, walk to Old Dale, run to Rolf, walk to bank, Run to light – Reverse on return. Running on the downhills.
So. The run. We started out easy enough. Because of the narrowness of the sidewalk I paced ahead but just enough to still hear him, talk back to him. As we ran we talked. I asked body questions, urging him to scan his ankles, knees, hips, heart. Listen to them, answer them. Make a conversation part of each and every run. Especially since his knees are wounded veterans with long scars as evidence.
In the end he admitted being outside wasn’t that bad. In the end I admitted having a running partner after all this time isn’t going to be so bad.