The next two weeks go by without a hitch. After a few more trail clearings at night, we have a little over one-and-a-half miles of cleared grass and dirt with tall power lines looking like a god stuck his toothpicks into the shaved belly of the green earth. It’s a bit hilly and uneven in some spots, but it’s good enough for our needs, and after fifty or so runners trample on it enough, it will be perfect. Ladies and gentlemen, we have our racecourse.
Amy makes it to each of the work sessions, and she’s turning out to be a real trooper. Truth be told, the two of us are starting to get along, and she soaks up everything I have to tell her about running. How it used to be and how it is. Once we clear up to the one-mile mark, everyone allows themselves to get four or five miles in, running back and forth along our newly forming trail. I finally get to see her in her gear and strutting her stuff. At one point, we do a full five miles together beneath the stars, and she seems almost serene afterwards, like the whole running thing maybe finally hits her like it did me a long time ago. The fact she can even run five miles without stopping proves that she’s in decent shape and that she’s been running on her own before coming to us, which is smart. But she could still use some toning. To run better, of course, because as far as looks go, she’s just fine the way she is. That being said, it’s hard for me to get past her smile and those eyes when she really focuses in on me. I feel a little stupid getting so starry eyed, but finding an available runner girl nowadays is harder than ever, so give me a break.
Of course, there’s always bad with good, and I end up having to talk on the phone with the Norwegian on Wednesday night for a lot longer than I want. For some reason, he’s more of a dick than usual, and after I give him directions to the racecourse, he starts complaining that I’m not giving him and his runners enough time to train for the new course. I’m about to hang up on him when he says he’s heard that I’ve got a new girlfriend. This shuts me up completely, but I remain on the line before I hang up. Probably just long enough to let him know that he’s gotten under my skin. I can only assume he’s talking about Amy, and I’m fuming to know how he got his information. Someone is spying for that pale piece of crap, and if I find out who, that person is gonna get a thrashing. I go back to my living room and start running in place. After about three thousand steps, I feel a little better.