Thirty-Thousand Steps by Jess Keefe

Author:Jess Keefe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prometheus
Published: 2022-08-29T00:00:00+00:00

11

True Love

SUMMER’S COMING. THE AIR IS THICKENING, THE SUN FEELS closer, the sky is that shade of clear blinding blue that feels like it could suck you straight up into it. Grand Army Plaza is peppered with street performers and vendors selling handmade candles and plastic-wrapped pashminas. As I bob past the bustling mass, I catch the faces of a few little children watching a puppet show, their eyes wet and huge and delighted as the little wooden characters sway and smack each other.

This is a good running day. My stride lands evenly on the pavement, not too heavy, not too hard on my heels. I’m taking my time yet pushing consistently. Pacing: It finally feels like something I understand. Knowing and respecting the limit.

The park is crowded today; its daily mass always increases as the mercury rises. Little clusters of people dot the Longmeadow as far as the eye can see. The paved loop path is also dense with people. Intimidating Cyclists with a capital C whip around the inner bike lane while more mellow riders, milk crates affixed to their rear racks and boomboxes bungee-corded to their handlebars, cruise in the outer lane. Some people power walk in spandex and ankle weights, some stroll in cute brunch-ready outfits, some are alone and some are in groups, some are large families clustered around sets of double-wide strollers, moving together like a herd on a plain, calling jokes from the back of the group up to the front and from the front of the group toward the back. “What?” a tall woman in a gauzy hijab calls up to a shorter woman in their cluster. The short woman cranes her neck backward comically, eyebrow raised. Then they both burst out cackling.

Being one little flake in this community cake mix is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of race training. I’m solitary in my activity, of course—but I’m not actually alone out here. I’m part of it. All of us out here together. Separate but together. Just doing what people do: moving, resting, eating, drinking, talking, telling little jokes to each other, occasionally reaching out for a nearby hand and drawing it inward, rubbing it like a fresh peach, maybe giving it a little kiss.

Eleven miles today. Another milestone. I complete it without incident, which fills me with puffy, overblown pride. I fling the heavy door of my apartment building open with one motion, feeling like Zeus, feeling like this door is a mere play thing. God, running is amazing, and I’m amazing for doing it. An image flashes in my mind of myself at the Coney Island finish line, having breezed through the race and finished under two hours. I can taste the beer. I can smell the ocean.

Inside my apartment, I take off my thick Red Sox cap and am bowled over by the smell. This brings me back to earth pretty quickly. My first long run in truly searing sunshine produced an incredible amount of sweat, and

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