Today we ran the Super Sunday 10K in Boston’s Seaport district (aka the South Boston Waterfront, aka “Hey, when did they replace the warehouses, fish factories, and generalized urban blight with luxury lofts, 5-star hotels, and gourmet restaurants?”)
The race was co-sponsored by Legal Seafoods and the Harpoon Brewery, both longtime residents of the Seaport district. The post-race perks included free clam chowder and beer. Who knew that salty, gritty, shellfishy, creamy goo immediately after running 6.2 miles could be so yum?
Runners could either sign up for a 5K or a 10K. The races started at the same time, but us 10K runners/suckers would do two laps of the course. Before the race, we studied the map and Mr. P pointed out that the course would pass by the site of our first-ever kiss along the Boston Harbor in front of the Courthouse. This prompted a moment of subdued cooing.
I am not fast and I do not have marathon-worthy endurance, but I’m the Queen of Pacing Myself and Knowing My Limitations. Since winter is my dormant running season. I planned to jog easily for the first 3 miles, then see what I had left. So I wasn’t surprised when the race began and dozens of people charged pass me. I knew I’d be seeing some of them again at the end of the race.
Mr. P went ahead of me, and I maintained a steady 10-minute mile pace for 3 miles before stepping on the gas. I felt pretty good and began passing people. After mile 4, as I approached the loop around the Courthouse, I spied Mr. P on the other side of the road. He had just finished the Courthouse loop.
“Huh! It’s my babe!” he shouted, and suddenly did a U-turn to run alongside of me.
“What?” I cried. “No! You’ll have to run around the Courthouse again! What are you doing?” But of course I knew what he was doing. We neared the site of our first kiss, and he leaned over and we kissed twice without breaking our stride.
“Go on, go!” I said, and he pulled ahead of me. My wonderful husband ran an extra 1/4 mile just to commemorate our first kiss. Elation seized me and my legs moved without effort, my lungs breathed without struggle, and my entire body warmed to the memory of that cold winter night four years ago, when we stumbled out of a bar to look at the luminous cityscape reflected in the harbor and to lock lips with our destiny.
