The Runner

The imagined smell of coffee and the anticipation of my alarm about to ring wake me. I lie still for a moment, and then roll over to look at my bedside clock that reads 5:08AM, twenty-two minutes before it will sound. Lying in bed for a moment longer, I will myself to sleep but sleep does not come. I toss off my sheets and shuffle into my bathroom to brush my teeth and put in my contacts. Then, I shuffle downstairs to put on a cup of coffee and shuffle back upstairs to put on my running clothes.

When I walk back downstairs, I am slightly more awake and ready for my cup of coffee. The smell wafts to my nose as I pour it into a mug. My system eagerly awaits the jolt of caffeine. I stand by the dark window and wait for my coffee to cool as I look out to the street, waiting for my old Southern Methodist University classmate Zack to run down the street.

Zack Leon runs religiously at 5:45 everyday, fifteen minutes before I leave for my own run. As I slowly sip the brown magic, he does not come. Maybe he is sick today, but he is never sick. He takes good care of himself, running every day and eating healthy foods.

As I finish my coffee and place the mug in the sink, my eye catches a glimpse of the digital oven clock that reads 5:39. Zack has not left yet. Maybe if I rush out the door right now, I can beat him. I re-tie my shoes and rush out into the warm darkness. The Texas heat cannot be beat.

My heartbeat rushes and falls into a fast, constant pace and my feet hit the sidewalk with a rhythmic steadiness. I observe the patterned suburbia houses, the same three houses repeated down the street. There is no originality, no difference. Everyone looks and acts the same. The lines between the concrete slabs merge together as my speed increases, my conveyor belt carrying me to work and to retirement and ultimately to heaven.

However, at college, Zack was my island of difference. He hung out with the in-crowd, but did not act like them. He treated me nicer than all his friends treat me. They did not completely ignore me because of my association with Zack, but I knew they would. I was not like them.

Footsteps of another runner wake me from my running daze. Do I speed up so he does not pass me? I decide to keep a steady speed. This is my run and I will not let someone else affect it.

Soon the footsteps come faster and closer until they are right behind me. I hate when people pass me, but if I speed up I feel ego-driven. Then the footsteps speak.

“Hey,” the voice said, slightly out of breath. I look over, keeping my breath under control. Zack Leon runs next to me, keeping pace with me.

“Hey, Zack. I haven’t seen you in so long. How’re you?” I lie through my steady breaths. I see him every morning when he goes for his run, but he does not know that.

He smiles. “I’ve been doin’ alright.” His southern accent brings out his Texan charm. “And yourself?”

I respond with the scripted formality. “I’ve been good. You work at that business firm down the street, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” He responds quickly.

“How’s that going for you?”

“It’s alright. I’m still gettin’ accustomed to the monotonous work day.” There is long silence for a moment as I attempt to keep my breath under control. I try to appear calm, as if I am not freaking out about the person running next to me.

“Do you still play guitar?” he asks me.

“Sometimes, when I have time.” I think of the day I played for Zack. He had known that I played guitar but had never heard me play. I remember him sitting there next to me, listening with his eyes closed. I messed up a note because he distracted me, but his eyes stayed closed, taking in each note. If only I could re-live that moment over and over...

“You were good when I heard you play. Why don’t you ever play for other people more?”

I think about it. “No one to play to.”

Zack pauses. “I’ll hear you play.” He says it definitively, as if he knows he will hear me play.

I pause myself, knowing I could never handle playing in front of him again. That time has passed. “Sure, if you want,” I say, even though I would never take his offer. I need to move on from my college dream-life. We run in silence for another moment, my breaths more strained as I attempt to control it.

Lightly but confidently he tells me, “I’d seriously love to hear you play sometime.” He attempts to look at me but I look straight ahead, afraid to meet his glance. He stares at me for a moment longer, and then I see a smile disappear from his face.

“You’re different.”

“What d’you mean?’ I retort, slightly offended.

“The business world got to you.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You’re not the same carefree person you were.”

I register this, but keep inside my mind. There is no scripted response to this.

“Loosen up,” he nudges me, smiling. I nod. An awkward silence follows as my wheezing fills the empty, dry air. “Gotta turn here. I hope I’ll see you again. Let me know when you want me to hear you play your guitar.” He starts to run off down the street, then turns around and picks up an air-guitar. “Strum those strings, girl.” I burst out laughing, falling out of step for a moment. He would always tell me that whenever I carried my guitar around campus. Apparently I have changed, but Zack certainly has not.

Reviews

[Princess3Morag]

Haha, up until the end I thought the main character was a guy:P That would explain the slight awkwardness if he was in love with his friend:P But I like it. You should write more about this!
By the way I'd change: ''my old Southern Methodist University classmate'' to just ''my old classmate'', because this way it's too long and kind of distracting. Less is more sometimes. You can just fill in the background info like you're doing with most of the memories that you mention.