Face Off

The timing of winter runs is annoying. To catch a little light, I leave earlier. And end up in rush hour people and traffic patterns, the north south lights long long long.

At the base of the War Memorial triangle, I met the only other runner I saw out this evening. She got to her side of the street first, was keeping time and her heart beat up to whatever was in her ipod, swinging one foot out to the side, bringing it back, the other foot, back. I did the same, but my knee up, knee up, knee up, knee up.

For 30 seconds.
For one minute.
For 30 seconds.
For two minutes.
For a light change, though not for us.

Swing, knee, swing, knee.

I started to feel like we were waiting for the handkerchief to drop, the gun to go off, so we could race into the middle of the street to bump chests, lock horns, tangle earbuds: Foot Swinger vs The Knees.

The image struck me so suddenly, I looked at her, started laughing. She was watching me, laughed too, drew up her shoulders and hands, palms up, dropped them again.

The light changed. We took off, passed each other closely. No bumping, just grinning.