Distracted

My feet pound into the ground and sweat trickles down my face and my neck. A smile creeps across my lips as I begin mile five. My runner’s high is kicking in, my body feels charged, not tired. I can feel the redness in my cheeks, my fingers begin to tingle, my knees feel like they have springs in them, I can literally feel joy in my feet spreading to all ten toes.

There isn’t a cloud in sight and the sun is piercing my back in the best possible way. The first run of spring is easily the most glorious one every year. By the time summer hits I’ll be looking for any tree covered path I can find. Which would be impossible in the city if it wasn’t for Central Park. But all I can think about is this run. I don’t think about my run yesterday or last week or my marathon next weekend. I focus on my next step, my next breath, the adrenaline and energy pumping through my veins. 

“Hey there, sweet thing.” 

“Go away, Nathan.”

“Oh come on, Zo.” 

“Nathan, you know how important this is to me.”

“I do know. I’m here to be your cheerleader. Your coach.”

“I don’t need a coach, Nate.” My eyes are focused straight ahead, dodging the people on the crowded sidewalk. I will not look in his direction. I won’t.

“You know I’m training for the marathon just as much as you. It’s better to train together.”

“It’s better to train alone.” From the corner of my eye I see the slightest half smile on his face and briefly notice that he’s running with his shirt off. Focus, Zoe. Focus.

“I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

Nathan has been unofficially joining my runs at least once a week for six months. Six months! I’ve made myself incredibly clear that I prefer to run alone, that I want peace and quiet, or the white noise of the city streets, or the music streaming through my headphones, not a conversation. However, Nathan has made himself abundantly clear he is a social butterfly. It’s not that I’m not social, it's that I don’t want any distractions. 

Nathan keeps his strides timed with mine, staying by my side. I will not focus on the tanned arm swinging next to mine or the sheen of sweat I see glistening on his skin. 

Like I was saying, I don’t want distractions.

Ever since I was a kid I have been extremely competitive. Competition sets my bones on fire, it heats my soul. I had to beat my dad in Candyland. I had to beat my twin brother in every sport we played together. I still have to win against mom in a game of Nertz. I am competitive to a flaw. My family still tries to be sweet about it and tell me it’s okay, but I knew it wasn’t okay the day I cried when I lost a board game in high school. 

I needed a competitive outlet where I could win over and over again. An outlet where I mostly competed against myself but had opportunities to crush my competitor. That’s when mom turned me to running. I was already running in soccer, why not just make running my new sport? I could challenge myself to my previous runs, I could learn how to run faster or how to run longer. I could run in every season, every day, any hour. Albeit winter is brutal, but that doesn’t stop me. 

“What do you think about when you run?” I hear Nathan’s breaths-slow and steady-like he hasn’t been running for the last thirty minutes. 

“You said you wouldn’t talk.” Our eyes catch for one second, two, then we go quiet again. 

Once I began running I never looked back. I fell in love with it. I’ve run several marathons in different cities, the Boston Marathon, the New York City Marathon, Chicago, you name it I’ve probably done it. Everyone thinks it’s just for fun now that I’ve graduated college and don’t run as a student athlete but I am always competing against myself. Well, and Alex. She’s really good. I picture myself crossing those finish lines again and again and again, the satisfaction of crossing the line pushes my feet forward - faster, better, stronger. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me this Friday?” 

I stop in my tracks. I cannot remember the last time I stopped running mid run. Not even to tie my shoes, I use the marathon knot, of course.

“Um, what?” My eyes go wide. I turn my body to face Nathan’s. I’m not running now so I guess I can allow him to be a distraction, right? My eyes bounce back and forth between his bright green eyes. They take in his square jaw, his black hair, his straight nose, his white teeth. Dang, this is the guy that’s been running next to me for the past six months? I want to go back and slap my past self across the face for thinking distractions were a bad thing. 

“I said, do you want to go on a date with me?” His lips curve into the sweetest smile like he knows I couldn’t say no to it. I think my insides are melting, but maybe it’s some side effect from running long distances that I haven’t experienced yet. He takes a step closer to me. Somehow we ended up on one of the quieter New York sidewalks, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me near the side of a building. 

“Why?”

“Well, usually I go on dates to remind myself I need to learn how to cook better at home. These New York prices are absurd.” He grabs the t-shirt that was tucked inside his pants and quickly pulls it back over his head. “Zoe, I want to go on a date with you because I think you’re incredibly beautiful when you’re covered in sweat. I want to know who you are outside of running.” 

“Well, I can tell you right now everything you need to know about me.” Am I nervous? Just say yes, you idiot. I can feel a different kind of redness creep into my cheeks. I lean against the building behind me. I don’t know if I could date a runner anyway.

“You can also tell me over dinner. I know a good spot.” He leans against the wall next to me. “Or do you not date runners? Is it a competitive thing?”

Is he reading my mind???

“I’m a competitive runner too, I’m not reading your mind. I can see your brain working.” 

“Okay, okay, stop reading my mind!” He bumps me with his shoulder and we both stand up straight again. “Can we finish this run and then I’ll give you an answer?”

I pray he can’t tell that my cheeks have probably gone from subtly heated to full on flames while his gaze lingers on my face.

“Yes.”

We pick up where we left off, our steps paced together just like before. 

Did Nathan just ask me out? Am I trying to play hard to get? I’ve never dated another runner before, someone who is just as competitive as me. But something about him seems a lot more fun than I am. I have refused to let anyone be a distraction to my running, let alone an extremely good looking man. I wouldn’t even run with my parent’s dog because I didn’t want her to slow me down. But Nathan has never slowed me down. If anything I have picked up my pace. My miles are always faster when he runs with me. Am I really going to say yes to him because he makes me a better runner? No. Just by running next to him I can tell he is determined. I can see in the way he holds himself he has integrity. Sometimes when we jog he runs ahead of me and then jogs backwards so we can have small conversations, he’s funny and sweet and caring all in that one action. How have I never noticed these things before? Or was I subconsciously noticing all of these things but chose to ignore them because of my no distraction rule? Did I really pick up on all of these traits just from running next to him a few hours a week? 

We near an entrance to Central Park and as soon as we are surrounded by more trees and less people I stop. He stops too. I take one long inhale through my nose and hold for one second, two, three, and release. My breathing is already slowing down. I turn around to see Nate wiping his forehead dry with the bottom of his t-shirt. I glance away before he can catch me ogling. 

“What do you know about me?” I ask. His hands drop to his sides. 

There comes that sweet smile again. “I know that you are tenacious and principled, I can see it in the way you hold yourself when you run.” He takes a step towards me. 

“I know you like to smile, you do it a lot when you’re running. It’s adorable.” He takes another step towards me, leaving only one more foot between us. 

“I know you love your family because they are the only glimpses you have given me into your life.” He takes another step, and this time he raises his fingers to my loose brown tendrils falling from my ponytail. His eyes follow his fingers as they twirl then brush the hair behind my ear. I thought my heart rate was slowing but it’s picking back up, his lingering touch brings warmth to my face. 

“Zoe, I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

His fingers trail down my jaw, then he cups my face and looks straight into my eyes. 

“Will you please go on a date with me, Zo?”

I wouldn’t even stop this man from kissing me right here in the middle of the park before our first date.

“Yes, Nathan. I would love to.” 

Still cupping my jaw, Nate’s eyes wander my face and land on my lips. His smile matches mine. He tilts his head down as I tilt my face up, breathing in the same air. His lips slowly lower to mine in the sweetest, purest kiss I have ever felt. I’m so distracted I can’t even think about how distracted I am. My runner’s high is mixing with dopamine in my system, this is new. It’s good. It’s bliss. It’s full on obstruction.

His lips unlock from mine and joy threatens to seep out of my pores instead of sweat. Is there a name for this kind of high?

We know when this moment ends we will head opposite directions from Central Park. So I type my number into his phone before we leave each other. I can’t stop the smile from coming, heck I don’t want to stop the smile. He reaches for my hand, “I’ll call you, okay?” And with that he turns and runs the other way. I just stand there watching him go, praying for my heart to return to its normal rhythm. One beat, two beats, three beats, deep breath, exhale. My hands grip the back of my head and a giggle escapes my mouth. Did that really just happen? My cheeks are on fire.

I turn around to run the rest of the way home and slam into a child who is holding hands between her mom and dad. I topple over the little girl pulling her down with me but I quickly roll over and bring the child back to standing asking incessantly if she’s okay. She giggles as I wipe dust from her back, thank God her parents don’t seem to be too upset. 

“You shouldn’t be so distracted, young lady.” The kindest New York City scold I’ll ever receive.

I cannot stop the grin that stretches from ear to ear. I bite my lower lip, focusing on my new distraction as my feet carry me home.