I nudged her shoulder to show I was teasing her.
“My music kicks ass. You won’t need yours.” Alexa gave as good as she got, and I loved it. “Ready?” she asked, hopping from foot to foot.
I finished following her on Spotify on my phone and put it in my protective arm cuff.
“Yup, let’s go. We’ll run down Beacon Street for an obscene amount of time, then we’ll loop around the Chestnut Hill Reservoir, and then back in on Commonwealth. The shitty part is we’ll have to run up Beacon Hill to complete the fifteen miles.” Beacon Hill was brutal on a good day, but after almost fifteen miles, it was going to be hell.
“Will I have to carry you to your house, or will you make it?” Alexa giggled and her smile reached her Caribbean blue eyes.
“Screw carrying me. Just call an ambulance. I’ll be dead,” I said, laughing even though I was as serious as the heart attack I was going to have. “Let’s do this.”
And with that, we placed our ear buds in and were off.
*****
About five miles in, I got my stride and started to enjoy the run. Alexa’s playlist did kick ass. I had never listened to dance music while running, but I was into it and feeling good.
She was a natural runner with smooth strides like a gazelle, her gorgeous long legs, and perfect running form. Every so often, I would fall back a few feet so I could watch her ass in action. Then I realized getting a hard on while running was not a great idea, and I caught up to her. At one point, she slowed down so she was behind me, and I wondered if she was doing the same to me. The thought that she was appreciating my ass made me happy. One time, I gave my ass a good shake, and I heard her giggle. Score.
We didn’t talk much for the first half, but we sang classic songs like “No Diggity” and “Eye of the Tiger” at the top of our lungs . Once we headed back into Boston from Chestnut Hill, we were both tired of music and chatted more.
“Tell me why you’re running this year?” I asked Alexa between breaths. Experts say if you can carry on a conversation while running, then you are going at your perfect pace.
“Well, I ran last year, but didn’t get to finish.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The bombings at the finish line last year were such a delicate topic, and I was torn if I should push the issue.
“Were you there that day?” Alexa asked before I could inquire more. Her clipped tone indicated she didn’t want to talk about it further.
“No, but I was at The Rub Down a block and a half away. It was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever heard and witnessed.”
At 2:49 pm, two backpacks containing shrapnel packed pressure cookers exploded twelve seconds apart at the finish line. The bombing created mass chaos as runners were still trying to finish the race, and thousands of innocent spectators lined the streets. Three people lost their lives, and hundreds were injured. The police shut down a twelve-block area around the site to investigate, which closed The Rub Down for days. The horror etched on the faces of Boston’s citizens was a sight I would never forget. Boston showed the world we were strong. The police, firemen, and EMTs were truly heroes, as well as other outstanding citizens. Many of the runners who were stopped blocks away from the site, and weren’t allowed to finish the run, went to the nearest hospitals to donate blood. The fear continued for days until the terrorists were finally found.
“I was in a treatment room when it happened. I felt the ground shake, and honestly thought it was an earthquake. Jessica ran upstairs and alerted me to what was happening. Danny and I did our best to get our clients to safety.” I remembered feeling helpless. I wanted to help the emergency personnel, but needed to do my duty to my clients first.
Our pace dropped as we remembered the horror.
“I’m sorry I brought it up. It’s so hard to think about. Let’s talk about something happier.”
“Did you need
“My music kicks ass. You won’t need yours.” Alexa gave as good as she got, and I loved it. “Ready?” she asked, hopping from foot to foot.
I finished following her on Spotify on my phone and put it in my protective arm cuff.
“Yup, let’s go. We’ll run down Beacon Street for an obscene amount of time, then we’ll loop around the Chestnut Hill Reservoir, and then back in on Commonwealth. The shitty part is we’ll have to run up Beacon Hill to complete the fifteen miles.” Beacon Hill was brutal on a good day, but after almost fifteen miles, it was going to be hell.
“Will I have to carry you to your house, or will you make it?” Alexa giggled and her smile reached her Caribbean blue eyes.
“Screw carrying me. Just call an ambulance. I’ll be dead,” I said, laughing even though I was as serious as the heart attack I was going to have. “Let’s do this.”
And with that, we placed our ear buds in and were off.
*****
About five miles in, I got my stride and started to enjoy the run. Alexa’s playlist did kick ass. I had never listened to dance music while running, but I was into it and feeling good.
She was a natural runner with smooth strides like a gazelle, her gorgeous long legs, and perfect running form. Every so often, I would fall back a few feet so I could watch her ass in action. Then I realized getting a hard on while running was not a great idea, and I caught up to her. At one point, she slowed down so she was behind me, and I wondered if she was doing the same to me. The thought that she was appreciating my ass made me happy. One time, I gave my ass a good shake, and I heard her giggle. Score.
We didn’t talk much for the first half, but we sang classic songs like “No Diggity” and “Eye of the Tiger” at the top of our lungs . Once we headed back into Boston from Chestnut Hill, we were both tired of music and chatted more.
“Tell me why you’re running this year?” I asked Alexa between breaths. Experts say if you can carry on a conversation while running, then you are going at your perfect pace.
“Well, I ran last year, but didn’t get to finish.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The bombings at the finish line last year were such a delicate topic, and I was torn if I should push the issue.
“Were you there that day?” Alexa asked before I could inquire more. Her clipped tone indicated she didn’t want to talk about it further.
“No, but I was at The Rub Down a block and a half away. It was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever heard and witnessed.”
At 2:49 pm, two backpacks containing shrapnel packed pressure cookers exploded twelve seconds apart at the finish line. The bombing created mass chaos as runners were still trying to finish the race, and thousands of innocent spectators lined the streets. Three people lost their lives, and hundreds were injured. The police shut down a twelve-block area around the site to investigate, which closed The Rub Down for days. The horror etched on the faces of Boston’s citizens was a sight I would never forget. Boston showed the world we were strong. The police, firemen, and EMTs were truly heroes, as well as other outstanding citizens. Many of the runners who were stopped blocks away from the site, and weren’t allowed to finish the run, went to the nearest hospitals to donate blood. The fear continued for days until the terrorists were finally found.
“I was in a treatment room when it happened. I felt the ground shake, and honestly thought it was an earthquake. Jessica ran upstairs and alerted me to what was happening. Danny and I did our best to get our clients to safety.” I remembered feeling helpless. I wanted to help the emergency personnel, but needed to do my duty to my clients first.
Our pace dropped as we remembered the horror.
“I’m sorry I brought it up. It’s so hard to think about. Let’s talk about something happier.”
“Did you need
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